Growing Up Arab-Irish

My father was born in Palestine, grew up in Saudi Arabia, and came to New Jersey when he was about 16 to go to school. My mother grew up Irish Catholic here in New Jersey, in a nice little waspy town called Westfield. They met at college. Shortly after, I was born, followed by my sister, my brother, and two more sisters. There was 5 of us spread out over 10 years. Anyone born into a big family knows how embarrassing it is to go anywhere, especially when your young and self conscious. There would be a parade of us walking through the mall, and one by one we would all pile into the minivan. I was the oldest, always trying to be one of the grownups, not one of the kids.

Religion did not affect me until I started to become a "young lady." As a kid I was just embarrassed by our big family, I knew I was different. Everyone I went to school with was either Irish, Italian, or both. I was half Irish but I did not look it at all. Big brown eyes, big lips, thick dark hair, I kinda stuck out. On and off my mother would cover her hair, which was even weirder because she was so white. She was trying to fit in, she was trying to please my dad, she was into it for awhile. It was weird but it did not register until those values were expected of me. I was completely against it. I had enough trouble fitting in, I definitely was not popular, I had friends but I was shy, skinny, and a late bloomer. I was always questioning God, religion, and the fact that if your so right (Dad), how come everyone has different beliefs? I could not eat bacon or jello, no sleepovers or tight jeans. Whenever I had on a shirt that looked a little short, my father would make me lift my arms over my head, if you could see my stomach, I had to go change. Everyone else was an evil non-believer and would only influence my naïve little mind. Or was I just thinking for myself?

Sixth grade was the start of junior high, the worst years of everyone's life. To make it even worse, I was expected to cover my hair. I was way too rebellious for that bullshit. I would put on my shawl (or hijab as its called) and walk to the bus, once I got onto the bus, it immediately came off. I never wore it in school, it was usually stashed in my locker or my backpack. On the bus ride home, it went back on. I have no idea how this looked to the other kids, it might have looked weirder that I was taking it off and putting it on, or maybe they felt bad for me, who knows, I was too consumed with saving my image. Of course came the day when I forgot it at school. There is no excuse for that one, why would I take it off in the first place? Somehow my mother covered for me, my father never got home from work until late at night. My mother had mixed feelings but I do not remember getting in trouble.

Later that year, we moved to Jordan for a little while. Yep, Jordan, its in the middle east, next to Palestine above Saudi Arabia. My mother wanted us to learn our culture since everything in America was so anti-Arab. I glad she did this for us, experiencing travel is definitely the best way to learn anything. Of course before we went there my father would go on and on about how everyone was religious back home, kids obeyed their parents, everything was perfect, blah blah blah. That, I soon discovered, was a complete lie. May I remind you one more time of my ridiculously large family, well imagine us in an airport. There were 5 children, my little blond mother, and 20 suitcases. Anyway, when we got there I met my cousins and my family and it was a great time. I got to eat genuine Arab food, experience the culture and the community. More importantly, no one covered! My cousins didn't cover their hair. When I got to school, no one covered there either! I did attend a private American school, but all the kids were Arab and mixed from all over the world. I made friends quickly and was the coolest one there. They thought I was so cool because I was American and all my discount clothes from Marshall's were cool too. I asked my friend if anyone covered their hair, she said 'no, only religious people cover.' I clearly remember there was one teacher in the whole school who wore a shawl. I was in all my glory, I was right, and I would never cover again.

Jordan is a bit different from the Arab world that we see on TV here, its more open and accepting, and most importantly, safe. Jordan is actually the only Arab country with no oil, so they pretty much have to be nice to everyone around them.

My life got severely worse after our trip. During my teens, my parents got divorced, I did drugs and it was a serious mess for a good while. Today I am a better person for it, for all that I have learned, seen, and experienced. My father doesn't talk to me mostly because I don't need him, I'm a 21 year old female, I live by myself, and completely support myself. I am not rich, but I am happily independent.. My boyfriend had a similar upbringing, and that's why we get along so well. He was raised born-again Christian in the woods of upstate New York, home schooled with 8 of his siblings. Its funny how people so different are so alike.