If you’re reading this, keep fighting.
“All rise, please open to page 200 in your hymnal and sing Kyrie Eleison,” said the chaplain. As everyone in the school got up and opened their books to start singing in Latin, I felt very conflicted. Being of the Islamic faith, I felt like singing would be a betrayal to my religion. But by not singing, I would be singled out as different, or even worse, someone who didn’t belong. So I stumbled through reading the lines, singing only half heartedly when a teacher or friend would turn to look at me. And when I wasn’t singing? I was praying for forgiveness, for what I felt was disloyalty to my religion.
Up until the third grade, I lived all my life surrounded by people like me: those of South Asian descent that identify with the Muslim or Hindu religions. They looked like me, shared my cuisine, spoke my language and prayed to the same god. After going through a rough year in public elementary school, my parents moved me to a private, Episcopalian school, which, despite the obvious religious differences, was the only viable option in terms of my social and academic quality of life. All of a sudden, I was thrust into an environment where I recognized nothing, an environment which made me feel like an outcast, if not an intruder in a place where I did not belong.
With time, our school grew by 30%, and there was an influx of others not in the majority. I was no longer the only kid who was made fun of for bringing in culturally traditional meals for lunch. While the school was still dominated by white Christians, the constant separation I had endured throughout the years was no longer felt. I no longer felt the need to fit in. I got more involved in the community, investing hours upon hours into our school’s equality club, even going as far as being elected president my senior year. As the leader of our school’s most inclusive club, I fostered greater relations with under-represented groups in our school and the administration. I worked tirelessly to provide chances for other religious groups to be included in our weekly chapel, eventually overhauling the entire system to incorporate a different religious leader for a different religious group each week.
What I am trying to say is that you don’t have to try to pretend you are something you’re not. By trying to conform to the social norms I observed in my school, I felt like I was being trapped in a system that was designed to discourage my pride for my culture and inclusion. We should celebrate everyone’s religious beliefs for what they are, and accept every group into our larger society. So if you’re reading this, don’t stop the fight.
Hasan P.
Wake Forest ‘24
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