Critique! Personal Letter
Posted: Sun Oct 18, 2015 5:00 pm
I once wrote an essay titled, “America Could Have Stopped 9/11”. Turned in to my English teacher, whose husband was laid off as part of the developing effects and affect of 9/11, it interests me, now, that no one raised a bigger fuss about that uncomfortable paper. Though, I like to think about that paper because, in ways I am describing, it should not be reduced to a pre-teen flare, but should rather be deemed a spark to what now warms my passions. And, as I have come to understand, people depict highly representative attributes during the moments which ignite their passions, so no better way exists to offer a message that exemplifies who I have become.
Although a bachelor’s degree in political science has curbed the conspiracy theorist in me, the paper reveals my preliminary attempts at asserting and defending an idea through the use of nothing but written word. Before that paper, any given companion of mine had at one time muttered, “Omeed, you talk too much”; as writing provided for a new, and quieter, medium for the transfer of ideas, the various benefits I have accrued never fell short of providing a level of solace. Unsurprisingly, in my university experience, I have focused on the craft of writing as a top priority and hope to continue honing the skill as a lawyer.
However, beyond my passion for writing, the most revealing part of my childhood essay can be seen in the attempt to remove myself from the umbrella term of the Middle East. In order to understand why I was feeling so inclined to distance myself, a context should be provided. Growing up in the suburbs of Dallas, I quickly acknowledged the tribulations of my first generation Iranian parents to restart and prosper from nothing, becoming very proud of my ethnicity. As such, much of my earliest questions were spent pondering at the inconspicuous physical differences present in daily life, with particular emphasis on my one thick eyebrow. But, the pondering remained neutral, sometimes even producing a happy radiance on the physical difference, such as the thought of going to Iranian gatherings on the weekend which the white children did not have the opportunity to enjoy. The more utility I gained from the differences, the more aware I became of the differences; no significant issues arose from this trend prior to 2001.
I wrote the paper in 2006, and clearly, I had begun to feel the undeniable negativity that flooded media, foreign policy, and everyday discourse regarding over generalized conceptions of the Middle East. After 9/11, I found no more interest in the highlighting of my difference. In fact just the opposite, I found elaborate ways to mark out my difference. I remind you of the subject matter of my 6th grade essay, where I was arguing that ‘we’, the Americans, could have stopped the Middle Easterners, ‘them’. Around this time, my eyebrow became two, and my fluency in Farsi turned into soft mumbles during greetings and farewells at the few Iranian gatherings I cared anymore to attend. Where I saw difference, I no longer highlighted it but instead marked it out.
When thinking about this essay much later, I realized the power of the perspectives of news broadcasters, our government officials, and those in my daily encounters, particularly in their messages of race and difference. I had changed parts of my identity in direct response to the generalizations made about the Middle East. It pained me to realize the connection, but in the same turn provided me motivation for the work I have done as an adult. I have become motivated to help others whose differences have similarly landed them in perilous situations, usually more palpable than the problems of identity I struggled with as a child.
My most proud effort of this type came when I worked on behalf of female asylum seekers entering illegally on the Southern border of Texas. A very common story I heard: women who escape the confines of their homes in a moment of duress find ways to walk, and swim, straight into the U.S; then, these women are asked to provide the paperwork for the judges hearing their case for asylum, which they obviously never have. The difference, here, is accounted for by the illegality of their entrance, at times allowing asylum seekers to be treated incorrectly as illegal immigrants. In short, they needed help. In a local activist group, I started with visitations and stretched my Spanish ability to its ends in hopes to provide any sense of normalcy and peace for the women who were detained for varying amounts of time, eight or so months in a few cases that come to mind. The more experienced activists explained to me how lawyers can help point out the differences between their situation and others only similar to theirs, allowing their case for asylum to be most clearly presented. Soon afterwards, I helped this same group gather lawyers to do pro bono work for the asylum seekers, suddenly recognizing the things I could achieve with a law degree.
Thus, a confirmation when deciding to study law is the possibility of helping others to most clearly present their positions. If I had been more articulate in explaining how the term Middle East represented an over generalized difference, I would have more clearly presented my situation and felt less inclined to alter my identity. When lawyers aided asylum seekers to explain their differences from regular illegal aliens, going through language and legal barriers, they revealed their power to me. Although I would enjoy returning to my efforts towards asylum seekers with a degree in law, I want to also carry the degree and my understandings into various fields. Where I can see difference, I seek no longer to mark it out. Instead, I want to start highlighting again, so the clearest messages can be presented.
Although a bachelor’s degree in political science has curbed the conspiracy theorist in me, the paper reveals my preliminary attempts at asserting and defending an idea through the use of nothing but written word. Before that paper, any given companion of mine had at one time muttered, “Omeed, you talk too much”; as writing provided for a new, and quieter, medium for the transfer of ideas, the various benefits I have accrued never fell short of providing a level of solace. Unsurprisingly, in my university experience, I have focused on the craft of writing as a top priority and hope to continue honing the skill as a lawyer.
However, beyond my passion for writing, the most revealing part of my childhood essay can be seen in the attempt to remove myself from the umbrella term of the Middle East. In order to understand why I was feeling so inclined to distance myself, a context should be provided. Growing up in the suburbs of Dallas, I quickly acknowledged the tribulations of my first generation Iranian parents to restart and prosper from nothing, becoming very proud of my ethnicity. As such, much of my earliest questions were spent pondering at the inconspicuous physical differences present in daily life, with particular emphasis on my one thick eyebrow. But, the pondering remained neutral, sometimes even producing a happy radiance on the physical difference, such as the thought of going to Iranian gatherings on the weekend which the white children did not have the opportunity to enjoy. The more utility I gained from the differences, the more aware I became of the differences; no significant issues arose from this trend prior to 2001.
I wrote the paper in 2006, and clearly, I had begun to feel the undeniable negativity that flooded media, foreign policy, and everyday discourse regarding over generalized conceptions of the Middle East. After 9/11, I found no more interest in the highlighting of my difference. In fact just the opposite, I found elaborate ways to mark out my difference. I remind you of the subject matter of my 6th grade essay, where I was arguing that ‘we’, the Americans, could have stopped the Middle Easterners, ‘them’. Around this time, my eyebrow became two, and my fluency in Farsi turned into soft mumbles during greetings and farewells at the few Iranian gatherings I cared anymore to attend. Where I saw difference, I no longer highlighted it but instead marked it out.
When thinking about this essay much later, I realized the power of the perspectives of news broadcasters, our government officials, and those in my daily encounters, particularly in their messages of race and difference. I had changed parts of my identity in direct response to the generalizations made about the Middle East. It pained me to realize the connection, but in the same turn provided me motivation for the work I have done as an adult. I have become motivated to help others whose differences have similarly landed them in perilous situations, usually more palpable than the problems of identity I struggled with as a child.
My most proud effort of this type came when I worked on behalf of female asylum seekers entering illegally on the Southern border of Texas. A very common story I heard: women who escape the confines of their homes in a moment of duress find ways to walk, and swim, straight into the U.S; then, these women are asked to provide the paperwork for the judges hearing their case for asylum, which they obviously never have. The difference, here, is accounted for by the illegality of their entrance, at times allowing asylum seekers to be treated incorrectly as illegal immigrants. In short, they needed help. In a local activist group, I started with visitations and stretched my Spanish ability to its ends in hopes to provide any sense of normalcy and peace for the women who were detained for varying amounts of time, eight or so months in a few cases that come to mind. The more experienced activists explained to me how lawyers can help point out the differences between their situation and others only similar to theirs, allowing their case for asylum to be most clearly presented. Soon afterwards, I helped this same group gather lawyers to do pro bono work for the asylum seekers, suddenly recognizing the things I could achieve with a law degree.
Thus, a confirmation when deciding to study law is the possibility of helping others to most clearly present their positions. If I had been more articulate in explaining how the term Middle East represented an over generalized difference, I would have more clearly presented my situation and felt less inclined to alter my identity. When lawyers aided asylum seekers to explain their differences from regular illegal aliens, going through language and legal barriers, they revealed their power to me. Although I would enjoy returning to my efforts towards asylum seekers with a degree in law, I want to also carry the degree and my understandings into various fields. Where I can see difference, I seek no longer to mark it out. Instead, I want to start highlighting again, so the clearest messages can be presented.