The Memoir of a Western-Arab

I still remember the moment when I was four, arriving at the airport, walking out from the Lebanese passport check, and being swarmed by relatives saying things I couldn’t understand. Growing up in countries like Canada and the UAE, where English is commonly spoken, communicating with my extended family on visits to Lebanon has always been a nightmare.

The ride from the airport in the globalized city of Beirut to my mother’s ancient hometown of Tripoli was a long one. I remember how the billboards and signs in Beirut were in English, one a stop sign and another a billboard ad for the Spider-man 2 movie. However, as we carried on down the Mediterranean coast, the signs and billboards became increasingly foreign to me, with strange writing on them. I would soon learn that this writing was Arabic. The change I saw throughout the road trip would mirror my experiences with my family I was soon to meet. 

As I arrived at my grandma’s old apartment, which was in a building that looked like it was built 100 years ago, I was introduced to dozens of faces I had never met before. Four-year-old me, as would be expected, felt isolated from most of my cousins who I was meeting for the first time. I remember watching them make strange noises I had never heard before, screeching what sounded like “KHHHHHHH” and “DHAAAAAA”. I observed them play on the first thing that looked civilized, a stranger version of a Nintendo DS. Though it looked like I was on the outside of this group of kids, it didn’t take long to realize that tag and hide & seek didn’t have any language barriers. So, we played for a while using hand gestures and facial expressions. I remember how I hadn’t known anything about these strangers at the time, other than my parents pointing out a couple of names. Nothing seemed normal. At that age I really believed I was on some sort of different planet and that these people were aliens. It never really sunk in to me during that trip that these people were family despite my parents stating it countless times.  Looking back, it was only at the end of that trip that I started putting the pieces together about my lineage and where my parents came from.

I always thought of myself as a Canadian, who spoke English, was born and raised in Canada and never really thought about where my family came from like any other kid my age would. Until that year where I was dumbfounded to find out I was only the third generation to be living in Canada, and that my own mother wasn’t even born in the country that I believed to be our native land.

In a short time, my family would move to the UAE for my dad’s work. My mother was especially joyful about this move for two reasons: I was going to learn more Arabic, and we could see her family more often. Subsequently, the move began the yearly tradition of visiting my mother’s family in Lebanon. 

Even though I had turned nine, I was still oblivious to the language of my ancestors. Although, I did know some very elemental phrases in Arabic like “How are you” and “I’m sorry”. As a consequence of my lack of Arabic, my actions became more artificial around my family, especially with my cousins. I can recount multiple occurrences with my cousins where I would sit and watch entire lengths of soccer matches. Keeping in mind that I fully knew that I hated the sport and would much rather be watching American football or basketball, but it did seem to be effective when trying to fit in with my cousins.

As the years of my early childhood progressed it became apparent that even though my cousins and I never shared the same language or had any sort of critical conversations about ourselves, there was a connection as children. I honestly began to enjoy travelling to Lebanon and anticipated the trips to be around my cousins, who I was evidently more familiar with. Although this was back when I still was oblivious to the language.

In recent years, I have finally gained the confidence in the Arabic language. Subsequently allowing me to communicate to a point just under being fluent. This acquisition of knowledge created a sense of anticipation and excitement, to finally be able to communicate and connect with my cousins on a personal level. Sadly, this excitement I had felt was never fulfilled during the recent trips to Lebanon. 

As the communication barrier disappeared it became clear that the connection we had as children was slowly fading away. Growing up in two different cultures, utilizing two different languages caused us to have diverging identities. I began to understand how the identity of my parents’ home county didn’t mirror the identity I had melded into. While a few things remained that we both related on, it was not enough for us to remain as close as we were when we were young. Being raised on separate continents became quite as apparent with my newfound fluency and made me feel less connected with my Lebanese half.

Amy Tan Opinion Column

Are Asians good at math? Maybe, but they're also good at other subjects too

Does your appearance and the land you were born in decide your future?

A problem that many ethnic children face while being raised in the West is breaking social norms developed from long established stereotypes. This is most apparent when in school age years when subject strengths are assumed based on a child’s ethnicity. This is further exacerbated when that child grows up and enters the work force and is pigeon holed into specific occupations because a person of their background is assumed to be good at it.

We can all remember as kids in our classroom always seeing the Asian kid scoring straight A’s in math or the Indian kid who was wicked at computer coding. I would like to point out that admitting these racial advantages is not racist, rather like anything in life, it depends on the context and how it is said. It is general knowledge and a valid statement to say that most Asians are good at math. This is likely the case because Asians who migrated to America would teach and install skills like math to their children at a young age. This was meant to give their kids a greater chance for a better life than the one they lived. As this tradition carried on, it became a social norm to think that all Asians must be good at math and can’t succeed in any other subject. The sad case is that, while many Asians excel at math, there are many other subjects and occupations that they also excel at. We should make it a point in our generation to highlight the skills that they bring in these other subjects as well and the skills that all ethnicities to many subjects

In America the majority of Asians in the workforce succumb to these types of social norms.  An example of this is highlighted in the following quote by the American Bureau of Labor Statistics comments on the employment of Asian Americans: “Asians were most likely to work in management, professional, and related occupations (58.0 percent) and least likely to work in natural resources, construction, and maintenance occupations (4.0 percent). Compared with Asians, non-Asians were also most likely to work to work in management, professional, and related occupations (36.4 percent) and least likely to work in natural resources, construction, and maintenance occupations (10.0 percent).  This is evidence that these social norms not only exist, but are structured career path for some ethnicities. The right of minorities of have continued to increase, but we must discount that these norms exist and there effects.

Further, it should also be noted that these types of social norms are not only set by individuals outside ones ethnicity, but are often driven from within.  In my personal experience being Arab and having two engineering generations before me, it was pressured onto me to become an engineer. As such I went out of the social norm and wanted to become an American football player or a video game developer. Ironically, I ended up choosing to be an engineer, but this was different in the fact that I was not pressured by my family or culture. I honestly could have chosen anything, and this point is what I stress upon. You should not succumb to the pressure of stereotypes and social norms that your race or culture might have tagged onto it, but rather do what you like, work as what you like, and be whoever you want to be and not someone who society chooses you to be.