55/ ?? - Remembering I am Arab: A Brief History of My Arab Realization and Acceptance

I just discovered the name Shami 5 days ago btw thanks to Micheline Maalouf.

Tarot Card of the Day - The Tower

My early childhood was split in a biracial reality. I was born in Appalachia (SE Kentucky, USA) to a white European mother and an Arab Shami father whose parents came to the US from the area of land today called Syria. To be clear this split was not 50/50. I am 100% of both as they are inseparable in me. At the same time experientially the split was more like 90% white European and 10% Arab Syrian. It feels like I may be being a bit generous to my Arab Syrian side with this ratio as I don’t speak Arabic, grew up with no Arab friends and only interacted with other Arabs at family weddings, funerals and graduations. On the flip side my name is distinctly Shami and my body looks and reacts strikingly similar to my Arab Syrian father. So in this sense I perhaps have greatly underestimated the percentage of my Arab life experience.

Growing up I always thought of myself as white. And I was not wrong. And I was not correct. My mindset was definitely conditioned to be white. I assumed the privileges and the burden of a white person. And yet I never quite fit in. Even in my whiteness I was not as privileged because in the 70’s and 80’s the people of Appalachia were stereotyped as hillbillies with no shoes, overalls, being ignorant and not talking right. Arabs during this time were stereotyped as terrorists and religious fanatics who wanted nothing but death to America. When I was in the second grade I moved from a super small Appalachian mountain town to the “big city” of Lexington, Kentucky. I was constantly made fun of in school for my Arab features and my Appalachian accent. I did not fit in. I was white, but not one of the good whites. I was Arab but had very little point of reference for what this even meant other than the portrayed horrors and mockery. So I instinctively chose to continue to try to assimilate. I found a track to this in religion that I dove into with all of my being. I will perhaps discuss this more in a future essay.

In the early 90’s the Gulf War was happening when I was in highschool. I remember being very disturbed by this. Even though I was well into my attempt to assimilate, I still knew on some level that it was people like me who the US was against and actively killing. I was around 16 at the time and remember being terrified that I would get drafted and have to go to war in the “Middle East”. I did not want to kill anyone, especially those who looked like me. I doubled down on my assimilation strategy by using God and Christianity as my ticket out. “He must become greater, I must become less.” John 3:30. In my mind I was thinking of God. In reality I was trying to become a white man.

Next came college. I went to an Evangelical Christian School in an extremely small town in Indiana. I remember one white redneck dormmate saying they saw my name on my dorm door and wondered “what kind of person is this?” This caught me off guard because in my mind I was just another white country boy. To assimilate well one must fully mentally buy into the narrative identity one aspires to be. And for me it was to fit in with the good ol’ boys of the midwest. As hard as I tried and as fiercely as I believed that is who I was, I failed miserably and was in fact miserable.

Fast forward to my junior year of college. I was studying the Bible and took an opportunity to study abroad in Jerusalem for a semester with several other students from my school. I had never been to a place where there were so many Arab people! I remember so clearly being out shopping in the old city of Jerusalem with my white midwestern friends. We would go into an Israeli shop and the employees would speak to my friends in English and then to me in Hebrew. I would say, “no I speak English”. I was completely confused. Then we went into a Palestinian shop and they immediately spoke to me in Arabic and my friends in English. I was like “what? I speak English!” I had no idea why they were speaking to me in Arabic. Then one of my friends said to me in a strong Indiana country accent “Auuuttta! They think you are one of them!” My mind was blown. And so was my cover. Turns out I was hiding behind a very sheer cover that could be seen right through. I had nowhere to hide. My white pose was enough to convince Israelis that I was one of them, because what kind of Arab would hold themselves as a privileged white European like they do? And I obviously looked more like them than my other friends. I must be Israeli! And yet the Palestinians saw right through all the facade and welcomed me because I was indeed one of them. I am Shami. And they were as well.

The next significant event of my Arab acceptance was when 9/11 happened. I remember being stunned that one of the bombers was named Mohammed Atta. My name which is so rare in America was now all over the news. No one ever came at me directly for my name being the same as the “terrorist” but I felt extremely exposed and vulnerable. I had to keep up my white assimilation efforts! Now is not the time to be more Arab, and yet ironically that is just what I did. In 2003 I went to New York City with some friends. It happened to be over the Halloween weekend. Me in my genius self thought this will be a good time for me to try on the Syrian Keffieh that I got in Jerusalem. I had never worn it. I thought Halloween would be the perfect time for me to explore my Arab identity. So I was walking down the street in Manhattan with my Keffieh just two short years after 9/11 and boy did NYC let me know it. I got several shouts from the locals that were not, let’s just say pleased, with my choice of attire. The one that sticks out most vividly was a guy yelling “Goddamn Taliban! Get out of here!”. I definitely picked up my pace and considered this a firm reminder of why I needed to not be Arab, but a white man. The Keffieh went back in the closet and did not come out again until 2023.

The Iraq war was going on and it was definitely a time of suppressing my Arab self and also a time of it beginning to boil over. I remember getting very upset at white family members on my mom’s side who were pro war and the destruction of Iraq. They very much had the perspective that it was us or them and fuck them. Them being the Arabs. Of whom I was one despite my best attempts to deny it within myself. However, when the Arab blood gets hot, it boils over. And I could not hold back at how hurt and upset I was that they were pro destruction of the Arabs to keep their illusion of safety alive. And it was an illusion because they were never under threat. There were no weapons of mass destruction. I could not stand this and became utterly disgusted with the Republican Party. When Obama came around and ended the war I was so relieved and thankful! I thought he was here to save us. What he did was restore the illusion. In reality, Obama dropped over 92,000 bombs. He authorized over 10 times more drone strikes than the George W. Bush administration. The vast majority of these bombs were dropped in Iraq and Syria. Many also were dropped in Libya, Yemen, Somalia, and Pakistan. Obama was just as bad for being a destructive force against Arabs as George Bush, but I bought back into the illusion.

The illusion was rattled though in 2011 when Syria went through a revolution. Over 13 million Syrians were displaced and over 500,000 were killed. I remember this period as one where I felt numb and in profound denial. I did not understand at all what was happening in Syria, why it was happening, or what to do about it. I just focused on my white assimilation, but was deeply haunted inside. I felt so powerless. It may seem a bit silly, but in 2015 Adidas was offering the ability for custom shoes to be made which included being able to write something inside the shoes on the soul cushion. I decided I wanted to be more mindful of Syria and all that was happening so I had the shoes made in black and red with the words Remember Syria printed on the soul cushions. This was a small but significant step of intention that I made to remind myself of who I am. The change was subtly happening in me, but it would take almost another decade for it to come out.

It was unfortunately not until the active genocide against the Palestinians and the utter destruction of Gaza that I was feverishly awakened to the fact that I am Arab and that I am Shami. This ongoing genocide and destruction of Gaza, the West Bank and Lebanon has permanently removed my ability fully to assimilate into white personification. I still am going through the process of accepting who I am as Shami. The layers of impact and contortion of my perception run deep from such long term commitment to white assimilation. When I first began to see the full and indiscriminate murder of the Palestinian men, women and children alongside the complete and utter desecration of the land and culture, I committed to myself that I would let it change me. I did not want to look away. What I was seeing was far too precious to just ignore or suppress. I wanted it to burn away all of my fear and shame of being Shami. I wanted it to disintegrate the self-emposed restrictions of my thoughts and expressions. I no longer wanted to hide who I am because of fear of offending others, fitting in or self protection. What is still happening on a daily basis to the people and land of Palestine is the turning point of my self acceptance and expression. I continue to learn to stand more proud of who I am as a Shami. I will continue to speak up for justice and calling out the utter cowardly ignorant violence for exactly what it is until it stops and Palestine is free from the river to the sea.

My name is Atta Dawahare. I am an Arab man whose paternal grandparents were born and immigrated from Bilad al Sham. I am Shami. I am Syrian. As a mixed race person of Arab and white, I am the colonized biology finding restorative justice over the colonizer. I have for too long attempted to perpetuate the colonization of my own body by trying for white assimilation. I now reject that assimilation. I accept who I am and where I am from. All of me. However the white part of me shall now submit and become the part that takes the back seat. My Arab self shall lead and contrary to all the stereotypes he does not bring terror and fanatic religiosity. My Arab self brings knowledge, patience, wisdom, accountability, passion, creativity, movement, flow, generosity, well being, hospitality, understanding, strength, passionate love, anger and a drive to make the world a better place for all. My white inheritance has a lot to learn. Best for the white aspect of me to stop bringing judgement & shame and get to work on learning what it means to bring the restorative reparations for all the senseless harm done to preserve an illusion.