My Identity
An identity is arguably the most important aspect of a person’ existence because it impacts their worldview as well as their self-image. I struggled to make sense of my identity as I was immersed into the foreign culture of my suburban town, Burlingame, California. Burlingame is an incredibly privileged, white, and affluent community, mostly due to its past as a sundown town. As a four year old who had just moved from Turkey, I often felt out of place and confused by the culture of this new place.
One primary reason why I struggled to come to terms with my background is because I was one of the few Muslims I knew in my school. Most people in Burlingame were either Christian or Jewish, which made me feel as if I didn’t have anybody I could relate to. I used to be hesitant about telling people that I am Muslim because I thought that it was uncommon and would make people look at me differently. In middle school, the people I called my friends would make me the butt of their terrorist jokes. Eventually, I learned to be the one to make these jokes myself, so as to not give them a chance to say something that would hurt me. In retrospect, this is probably one of the worst reactions I could have had to the situation because it only made it seem like I condoned that sort of behavior. Over the years, I had to learn how to appreciate my religion not just within the comfort of my own home, but also around others. Being Muslim is a major part of my identity and I was able to embrace it more as I went into high school and started to become more comfortable speaking about it.
Aside from culture and religious differences, one prominent aspect of my hometown shaped how I viewed myself on a daily basis. Due to the lack of diversity in Burlingame, most of the girls my age had light skin, light hair, and light eyes. There was an implicit emphasis on eurocentric beauty standards that I and other girls like me were able to pick up on. We didn’t have their long blonde hair with natural highlights, their small, delicate noses, or their vibrant, enchanting blue eyes. But I always thought that that was what beauty looked like. My brown hair and brown eyes seemed boring and unappealing to me. These insecurities would always follow me around and cause me to constantly be comparing myself to other people, noticing what they had and what I did not. Over time, I learned to appreciate the physical aspect of my identity because I was able to see that blonde hair and blue eyes are not the only definition of beauty. I learned to define beauty in my own terms, which meant appreciating the awesome length of my eyelashes or the blessing of having thick eyebrows. Learning to love the little things helped me love everything about myself and come to terms with who I am as a person. I can easily say now: I’m an immigrant. I’m Muslim. I’m confident and I’m proud.