Arab. Muslim. American. My family tree has roots that spread throughout Mesopotamia — I am Arab. My religious beliefs align with those of Islam — I am Muslim. I was born and brought up in the U.S. — I am American. Yet, in the words of credulous Americans who are seemingly unexposed to religiously and ethnically diverse communities — including some of my fellow classmates — I am a terrorist. 

I grew up in an anti-Muslim climate that flourished after the harrowing events of 9/11. The only reflections of people like myself in the news seemed to be brown men in orange jumpsuits and women who were labeled as silent and oppressed, because of Islam. Everyday, the Muslim community was bombarded with headlines and propaganda that promulgated trumped-up associations between the religion of Islam and the insitution of terrorism. 

For years, however, few in American media seemed to report on the fact that, according to data compiled by researchers at California State University, hate crimes against Muslim Americans increased by 78% during 2015 — a year of presidential campaigns that earned votes through xenophobia. Attacks on Americans perceived as Arab or Middle Eastern rose even more sharply. Wearing traditional attire of the Arab culture — such as a headscarf or hijab — places a target on the backs of Muslim women, putting us in danger of being attacked, harassed and threatened. For a long time, fitting into the stereotype of a typical Middle Eastern made Arab Americans vulnerable to not only marginalization and discrimination, but also violence.

While hate crimes against Muslim Americans in 2015 reached unprecedent levels in the aftermath of 9/11 — marking the second sharpest spike in anti-Muslim attacks since the 1990s, according to federal data — it was exceedingly difficult for me to find information in the media on these hundreds of attacks, including arsons at mosques, assaults, shootings and threats of violence. Why were my people invisible in this country for so long? Was all this fundamental antipathy really stemming from an attack carried out by a few dozen, who claimed to be Muslims yet committed heinous crimes that violate the rudimentary principles of Islam? Why do they hate us?

Among the Muslim community in the U.S., one of the most widely discussed issues is American media’s propagation of negative, prejudiced portrayals of of Islam. This issue is not one-sided: Both Republican and Democratic-leaning media are active participants in the weaponization of anti-Muslim rhetoric. I am all too familiar with headlines that uniqely associate Muslims, or the religion of Islam, with terrorism, jihadism and oppression, among many other suprious epithets, while the same crimes from those of other races and religions are represented with soft features on their background, circumstance and mental health. Diluting the term to apply to peaceful people helps no one, and those who deserve the attention, regardless of their race, skate by.

It hurts me to have to say this outright: Terrorism does not equate to Islam. Since its inception 14 centuries ago, the Islam that I have come to know and love continues to be a religion of peace, a system of beliefs that promotes the rudimentary principles of kindness and justice, not violence and war — I implore you to take this from a faithful Muslim American who has read the Qur’an in its entirety. How fringe followers skew its words echoes how other religions’ followers do the same.

Historically, there is more to unpack, too. The Oxford Dictionary defines terrorism as “the unlawful use of violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims.” And according to Merriam-Webster, terrorism refers to the systematic and coercive use of terror, defined as “violent or destructive acts (such as bombing) committed by groups in order to intimidate a population or government into granting their demands.” While these definitions are not necessarily universally accepted, according to both Oxford and Merriam-Webster, were the revolutionary colonists, who slaughtered Native Americans during the French and Indian War in the United States, considered terrorists? The Christian Crusades fit these definitions, too: Western European Catholics killed thousands of innocent Muslims to gain control of Palestine and persecuted Jews simply because they weren’t Christians, forcing anyone who stood in their way to surrender and convert. After these Christian Crusades in 1095 AD, did the world label Catholicism as a religion that endorses terrorism? Based on what I have read about history, the answer is no, which leads to me to my final question: Why do so many Americans distinctively associate the religion of Islam with terrorism, as opposed to radical forms of most ideologies? Zealotry is not unique to any one ideology, institution or individual; on the fringe in most exists the danger. 

In accordance with these same definitions, how do we perceive the actions of powerful figures in the United States government, who, after the execution of Sadam Hussein and the declaration that Iraq had no weapons of mass destruction, continued to bomb and aim air strikes not at military targets but at innocent civilians in Iraq for half a decade? Are they considered perpetrators of terrorism? 

Far-right terrorism, too, is widespread, dangerous and growing, and according to the FBI, currently consitutes a much greater threat to our country than does any nondomestic terrorism. We hesitate to call these actual terrorists terrorists despite their tactics, despite their zealotry. Wasn’t it terrorists who planned to kidnap Michigan Governor Whitmer and execute her on television? And didn’t terrorists plan to hang Mike Pence outside the Capitol? 

Progress can only come to fruition if we stop using this divisive, othering rhetoric that amounts to nothing more than black-or-white thinking, and instead start listening to one another with open minds. While American media is the gatekeeper of information, we need to fortify our walls against governments’ attempts at politicization of religion, to protect ourselves from bias and prejudice by filtering the information presented to us by the media today. As a society, in order to impel progress, move forward and improve the world we live in, we have to educate each other. We have to distance ourselves from our society’s deep-rooted system of stereotypes, labels and misinformation; we must acquire enough courage to confront our implicit biases and leverage what we have learned to change them. 

To each Whitman student who asked me if I was a terrorist, I hope you’ve learned where the ongoing threats to both of us lie. It’s not here. Discrimination doesn’t do us any good; it doesn’t quell the threat of terrorism. Only through empathy, education and an open mind can we come together and collectively bring about change.