"The Praying Jew" (1923) by Marc Chagall (1887-1985)
"Leon, Her Hasidic Jewish Friend" is the second story in Urdustan (get a copy!).
If you open your heart and your mind and accept people of different backgrounds, your life will be truly enriched... I have many friends all over the world, from different walks of life, including Hasidic Jews, gay African American men, Deaf Native Americans, mixed Afro-Arabs, half Muslim, half Hindu Indians, and so many more. The world is beautiful. Beauty comes in all sizes and shapes and colors and creeds and nationalities. I love to meet people from all over the world and I love being exposed to different cultures. Yet, I am ashamed to say that I know a few people who are anti-Semitic and hate Jews. I've often argued bitterly with them over this.
When I was in high school, I made a conscious choice to wear hijab (the Islamic headscarf). Now, let's make this clear. Nobody forced me to wear it, nobody pressured me to do it. I did it because I wanted to. It was MY choice. Already being a deaf brown female, people treated me differently. But, as a deaf brown girl in hijab, I was even treated more differently. In fact, a lot of people thought I was fragile, dumb/mute, and even oppressed. My own parents were against my choice to wear hijab--my father often worried that people would treat me badly.
As a deaf hijabi, I was quite lonely. I was already an angry alienated teenager, but the hijab made me even more alienated from society. When I had just turned eighteen years old, I was at the railway station. There, I saw a group of young Jewish schoolboys in uniforms with yarmulkes. They were taken to the railway station on a field trip from a private Jewish school. One of the boys wore a yarmulke, but that didn’t catch my attention. I stared at him, unable to take my eyes off him. He had two hearing aids in both of his ears--just like me.
Everyone in the group ignored him, like he didn’t exist. It was just like how everyone treated me--I was invisible and ignored, yet I was the elephant in the room. People treated me weirdly and felt uncomfortable around me, like they were afraid I would judge them. They didn’t know how to communicate with me, choosing to ignore me and act like I didn’t exist. I already hated people before I wore hijab, but during the hijab era, I hated people even more. People disgusted me.
Staring at that little deaf Jewish boy, I felt so much closer to him than I felt around hearing Muslims or South Asians at the local mosque. He and I were brother and sister in arms. I just knew deep down inside that he and I could relate to each other, both being Jewish and Muslim, him in yarmulke and me in hijab, yet 100% deaf.
He sat there, slumped on the bench, quiet while everyone else ignored him and chattered loudly. I wanted to reach out to him and greet him in American Sign Language. He was me, and I was him.
“Leon, Her Hasidic Jewish Friend” addresses the friendship between a South Asian Muslim punk and an older Hasidic Jewish man. They met online and chatted online almost everyday for almost a year. And finally, they meet in person for the first time.
It is based on a true story. Is it based on me? That's for me to know and for you to never find out.
Please buy a copy of Urdustan and read this story.
NEXT WEEK: "Vetala: An Indian Vampire in London" (third story in Urdustan)
When I was in high school, I made a conscious choice to wear hijab (the Islamic headscarf). Now, let's make this clear. Nobody forced me to wear it, nobody pressured me to do it. I did it because I wanted to. It was MY choice. Already being a deaf brown female, people treated me differently. But, as a deaf brown girl in hijab, I was even treated more differently. In fact, a lot of people thought I was fragile, dumb/mute, and even oppressed. My own parents were against my choice to wear hijab--my father often worried that people would treat me badly.
As a deaf hijabi, I was quite lonely. I was already an angry alienated teenager, but the hijab made me even more alienated from society. When I had just turned eighteen years old, I was at the railway station. There, I saw a group of young Jewish schoolboys in uniforms with yarmulkes. They were taken to the railway station on a field trip from a private Jewish school. One of the boys wore a yarmulke, but that didn’t catch my attention. I stared at him, unable to take my eyes off him. He had two hearing aids in both of his ears--just like me.
Everyone in the group ignored him, like he didn’t exist. It was just like how everyone treated me--I was invisible and ignored, yet I was the elephant in the room. People treated me weirdly and felt uncomfortable around me, like they were afraid I would judge them. They didn’t know how to communicate with me, choosing to ignore me and act like I didn’t exist. I already hated people before I wore hijab, but during the hijab era, I hated people even more. People disgusted me.
Staring at that little deaf Jewish boy, I felt so much closer to him than I felt around hearing Muslims or South Asians at the local mosque. He and I were brother and sister in arms. I just knew deep down inside that he and I could relate to each other, both being Jewish and Muslim, him in yarmulke and me in hijab, yet 100% deaf.
He sat there, slumped on the bench, quiet while everyone else ignored him and chattered loudly. I wanted to reach out to him and greet him in American Sign Language. He was me, and I was him.
“Leon, Her Hasidic Jewish Friend” addresses the friendship between a South Asian Muslim punk and an older Hasidic Jewish man. They met online and chatted online almost everyday for almost a year. And finally, they meet in person for the first time.
It is based on a true story. Is it based on me? That's for me to know and for you to never find out.
Please buy a copy of Urdustan and read this story.
NEXT WEEK: "Vetala: An Indian Vampire in London" (third story in Urdustan)
