Last year, I was invited to an interfaith banquet to be recognized for my efforts in weightlifting clothing accommodation. Busy between competitions and training, I still wanted to attend. The main organizers had supported me and it was a good cause. My friend Hiba went with me as my guest. I didn’t have a formal enough western style dress, instead I wore a Shalwar Kamees (Pakistani style clothing) with headscarf (or hijab). Hiba wore a business suit. A South Asian lady recognized me from an event I spoke at. Conversing with her, I said “this is my friend Hiba.” “Your GIRLFRIEND?!” she exclaimed with a shocked and distorted look on her face. Hiba and I looked at each other, I then turned to her and said, “No, I said this is my FRIEND Hiba.” She said “oh”, and walked away. We realized she thought Hiba was my lesbian girlfriend. Hiba wearing a suit with her hair pulled up, amplified this lady’s suspicions, but wondering who the “man” in our relationship was. Perhaps Hiba wearing the suit, or me, the weightlifter. Hiba is from Sudan, so in addition to thinking we were lesbians, she thought we were in an interracial relationship. This caused us to laugh and joke throughout the banquet. I am sure that lady wiggled her eyebrows like Bert in Sesame Street, thinking to herself, “I KNEW IT!”

Not everyone labels me a lesbian, and some might think, from my version 1.0 blog post (Why am I not Married?), “It’s true, Muslim men are jerks! No wonder Kulsoom is not married!” They CAN be jerks, but so can men of other religions and races.

I deal with preconceived notions, perceptions, and assumptions others have of me and this affects ALL my interpersonal interactions. Humans put each other into categories to deal with those we don’t know. My appearance and persona do not mesh together, causing confusion and I can’t be put into a box, or category, producing many incorrect assumptions.

My hijab puts my heart (faith) on my sleeve. One glance and this controversial piece of cloth identifies me as a Muslim woman. I started wearing hijab in high school, being the only hijabi. Fortunately, nothing eventful or traumatic occurred, minus occasional racism, mean spirited ignorance, and at most two attempts to take my hijab off. I met and made lifelong small town friends, and we learned much from each other.

My weight lifting made me world renowned, another judgement factor, since it is considered a male sport, I have certain personality characteristics, I am a lesbian and/or what is scaring men. B*****s, PLEASE! Don’t be jealous my traps are better than your traps, I am not going to stop lifting! My PhD in Electrical Computer Engineering, further throws people off (and “scares” “men”). Many believe the stereotype athletes don’t go to school, AND I chose a male dominated career. Some thought going to grad school was going to decrease or increase my odds, or was an excuse to delay MAWWAGE! A friends husband gasped at me considering two masters and stated I would never get married as men would be scared. “What’s so scary about that?” I said I had no idea what would happen in life, wanting to learn and seek these degrees, it’s not a bad idea for a woman to be able to support herself and her children if anything ever happened to her husband. He said he was going to warn his friends about me. Whether he was serious, or joking, I don’t know. If he did “warn” them, he saved me headaches of dealing with spineless imbeciles.

My quiet voice is mistaken for shyness, adding to the oppressed, weak, scared Muslim Woman stereotype. (Shouldn’t my monotone voice fit the engineer/computer scientist stereotype?) Being an introverted listener, it takes people longer to know me and for people to hear what I have to say and feel. “I am 32 flavors and then some/and I’m beyond your peripheral vision/so you might want to turn your head/cause someday you’re going to get hungry/and eat most of the words you just said.” If they don’t, they are the losers, because I am awesome!

I used to blame myself, but a friend told me about the Invisibility Syndrome, defined in the journal article “Racism and Invisibility: Race-Related Stress, Emotional Abuse and Psychological Trauma for People of Color” by Anderson J. Franklin, Nancy Boyd-Franklin, and Shalonda Kelly.

Many times “I don’t know what this f****** sh** means!” This line was spoken in Kill Bill 2 by assassin, Karen Kim, sent by Lisa Wong to kill Beatrix Kiddo (AKA The Bride). Holding each other at gunpoint, Beatrix tells her she is pregnant, and check the pregnancy test strip for validation. Karen picks up the strip and exclaims this statement. Unlike Karen, I have no instruction box explaining what blue means. I don’t know what messages people are trying to relay to me. “I don’t know what this f****** sh** means!” and why people have and are treating me they way they do, until I learned of the invisibility syndrome.

“The invisibility syndrome evolves when persons feel that they live in a racialized or depersonalized context in which who they are as a genuine person, including their individual talents and unique abilities, is overshadowed by stereotyped attitudes and prejudice that others hold about them.” (Franklin, 2006, p 118). And prejudice is “the tendency to attach one-dimensional attributes or stereotypes to the person at the expense of all other characteristics. This tendency to hold a fixed view of others results in a failure to see the diversity within groups or the individuality of its members. Moreover, the victim of prejudice often feels indignant because he or she has been classified into a category and not judged according to his/her own characteristics.” (pg. 11) I have experienced many interactions where I felt invisible – physically un-present. I thought I was hallucinating. This is difficult in situations where my differences single me out from groups, making me feel outcasted when no one makes an effort to reach out to me. My reality and experiences were invalidated (defined as a microaggression), but I learned this happens to people, and it has and does happen to me in various settings and situations. People with power or White privilege (“unearned resources and/or power held by Whites”) would never understand this, because they never experience this. Being white and/or having privilege, means one has to take responsibility to learn, realize this racism and speak out against it. We all need to interact more on personal levels. Even in America, we are still very segregated. This behavior, at least from a social justice standpoint, needs to be stopped and requires constant self-monitoring of stereotypes, prejudices, biases, and fears we all have. All of us have multiple identities, some can be privileged (e.g. being white, male, rich), and some oppressed (female, different race, different nationality). Men are treated differently than women, especially white males, though colored, gay or disabled men could identify with aspects of my experience as they can be victims of racism, homophobia and prejudice. It is a reality for people, and a reality for me everyday. There are different layers of it that can happen at institutional, individual, and cultural levels (pg 14).

The journal article explains another concept, microaggressions, as slight acts of disregarding a person of color because of stereotypically held beliefs. One feels “invisible” and their individuality rejected, and over time, emotional burnout and energy drain. Once I identified these microaggressions, I understood my fatigue when dealing with them. Racism is not always objective, nor easily identified, and is entrenched in our society. People can be accused of having a chip on one’s shoulder, or being paranoid and disillusioned when their experience can not be validated (pg 15) What the media says concerning Islam and Muslims, what people directly or subtly say to me, or don’t say (pretending I am not there and ignoring me), is all very draining and takes it toll. Those who do this, are usually ignorant, unaware, or understand it is racist and hurtful. Being in a position of privilege, they have power, access to resources, established institutions, and support. I can understand some people might identify their ignorance, and they are afraid of offending me, but one can still speak to me like a normal person! I can recognize when good-intentioned ignorant people are trying to get to know me but fearful of offending me, and I can tell when people are both ignorant AND bigoted. Wearing a hijab, hence identified as a Muslim woman (of Pakistani descent), people could look at me with bias and stereotypes. Some funny extreme examples: the Taliban (because I am Pashtun) raised me in a cave. Despite being an oppressed woman, I was taught how to blow things up. I’ll enter a forced arranged marriage, my husband will beat me, make me stay at home & worst of all, make me stop weightlifting! No one can talk to me because I don’t know English and I am naive about the ways of the world because I was sheltered in a Taliban cave.

I learned to deal with this, going into “mom” (educator) mode. Being the mom is also draining, but I force myself at least when I need to diffuse a stressful situation. White males don’t have to explain anything or be a spokesperson for all white males, but I do for my “group” as I have been placed into this role. The article emphasizes the importance of finding people and places that accept you, finding support in your community, and others who also deal with these issues. When I meet those I clique with, whether we have things in common or they understand (or try to understand) me, it is exhilarating! The world’s current climate means I will deal with a lot of Islamophobia, ignorance, and racism for a long time, and it will drain me. “The inability to fit in, low expectations by coworkers and supervisors, shattered hopes, faint praise, presumption of failure, coping fatigue, self-censorship and silence, and the fear of being forced to shed one’s racial identity in order to succeed. Some … also reported feeling the pressure to keep quiet regarding the racist practices of their organizations (pg 22). “ I have to balance this drain by being with people who do understand me.

Standing up for yourself and finding strength in facing these microaggressions allow a sense of empowerment. I started taking charge of draining situations, letting people know how I feel. Hopefully this will create changes. Being the mom takes a lot of patience. I don’t have to accept or do it if I do not choose to, which is empowering. Writing about these experiences is another way I deal with this as it is also empowering to not remain silent, keep feelings inside, or blame myself. I hope sharing can also help others who experience this.

Most people have never interacted with a Muslim, or have on a superficial level. When Muslim(s) they have interacted with practices or doesn’t practice certain things, I get compared to them. Islam has both spiritual beliefs and guidelines on living your life. What I choose to practice in Islam brings up various questions and comments. Some examples (with my humor inserted), “The Muslim woman I know does not wear a headscarf. Why do you wear one? Can’t you take it off or are you going to get killed?” “You don’t drink alcohol, don’t eat pork, what do you do?” (Referencing Adam Ant’s song, Goody Two Shoes) “I know someone from Pakistan, maybe you know them too. But they are more cultural, wearing lovely traditional outfits. I mean, why don’t you at least try matching your clothes!?” “You listen to Orbital, Mos Def, The Cure, Michael Jackson, The Smiths, Muse, U2, EPIC Trailer music, Tori Amos (insert other non-mainstream bands/music Kulsoom listens to)? I am surprised.” What do people think I should be listening to, harem music? (In case you were wondering, I also shop at Trader Joe’s & farmer’s markets, I collect mementos from places I visit, photography is my hobby, laughter is healing for me, I can be very indecisive, I like to cook, I am a proud nerd, and I can be sarcastic if you have not picked up on that) I feel I have to be careful what I do or say around those who are uninformed about Islam for fear it will be taken the wrong way, when I’m the token Muslim or “representative/spokesperson.” I am a Muslim woman, but I am also me, a unique human. We all have different yet valid life experiences.

All of what I have mentioned, also relates to my interactions with men, perceptions and fears they have of me, and how that affect me and my reactions to them. Do I have regrets and think I made mistakes? Sure, I must have, I am human, but nothing was intentional. Life is a learning process, we can only do our best with the knowledge we have, and I believe things happen for a reason. I would like people to talk to me normally. How? If you don’t know someone, what do you say? “Hi, how are you doing? My name is X”, small talk — easy, harmless icebreakers. Then natural communication can flow.

In school, I was focused, and perhaps oblivious to what people did, unless they were stalkers and weirdos. I wondered if the “normal” ones were “scared” of me and never spoke to me, and those with mental instabilities void of the normal people fears ended up as the stalkers who got in my face. There were a few who expressed interest, but wanted me to change something. Such as, I was not Pakistani cultural enough, or too “Americanized,” I was WAY too religious, or not religious enough.

I have gotten comments, both good natured or with underlying meanness that I’m too picky, and hence still unmarried. After my press coverage, many people assumed men flocked at my doorstep, since my identity, the city I lived in, and what gym I trained at was known. Since I was meeting people at competitions and speaking events (where there are tons of eligible bachelors?), I was doing something wrong. And the usual, “You are not getting any younger.” Being unmarried at my age, according to these people’s view, I might as well fall into the spinster stereotype and live with cats! Also, I am “killing babies.” When my sister, Shabana, was in grad school at University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, she and a friend had gone to Super Walmart late one night. There they met and conversed with a refugee Iraqi man employed there. Being engaged, my sister was OK, but not her friend being neither engaged nor married, she was “killing babies.” Because she was not married and reproducing every cycle possible? Did something get lost in translation?

There will be what ifs, self-doubt and thinking of mistakes I made, things I did wrong, blaming myself for not being outgoing enough, and not exhausting proactive options of finding a Darcy (Edit 2013.11: Darcy is more famous, but I prefer Mr Thornton from North and South). It doesn’t help when comments are made like, “Why didn’t you find someone in school? What about the guy who emailed you a proposal?” He incidentally thought I would be elated because I was waiting for him to get approval from his family. In reality, he had hardly spoken a word to me before this email proposal. When I replied “no”, he insulted me each time he saw me person. Feeling “guilty,” he signed up for the same classes I did and followed me until I told him I was going to call the police.

Being out of school means I don’t have the same opportunities of being in situations interacting with like-minded people, where relationships develop over time. In spite of this and all I have mentioned, I still have some hope there is someone out there who shares a similar lifestyle, morals, (good intentioned, non-hypocritical) faith, some of my mutual interests, is honest, patient, kind and would be happy and appreciative with me for who I am. Writing this is sending my story, message and positive energy out into the universe. Maybe something cosmic will happen! Finally, I will continue to make dua (supplication) to Allah to make things easy for me, help and guide me moving forward in all of my journeys.