Brown Boy Problems: Terrorist, Sand N*gger, Camel Jockey, Take Your Pick (S1 EP6)
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will — nah they definitely hurt me. Who came up with that line?
Without further adieu ...
A few years back, I was reflecting on my high school experience with my girlfriend at the time, who is black.
“Can you imagine if someone in your class just straight up called you the n-word? Like that seems crazy, right?”
She agreed that the idea of that happening in her high school sounded crazy.
Well, unfortunately for me, it was a rather normal occurrence.
By the time sophomore year rolled around at Indian Hills High School, kids figured out how to be properly racist. In 2003, 9/11 is already a couple of years in the rearview mirror.
Not only is there a war in Afghanistan, but there’s also one going on in Iraq. Islamophobia is in full swing with a far-right political movement and not-so-far-right media establishments pushing the notion that the country is in danger of falling under Sharia law.
If you were 1) Muslim, 2) of a brown persuasion that one would associate you with being Muslim, 3) attending school in the New York City area where everyone knew someone directly impacted by 9/11, or 4) all of the above, life wasn’t easy. For our classmates, we served as stand-ins for this distant enemy that they could lash out at.
The cumulative amount of verbal abuse I took in high school was incredible. We’re talking well over 1000 incidents. (I’m doing some rudimentary “racial insult math” over here, and the number could be closer to 1500). Racism in school is unique in that while you’re of school age, you’re forced to be around people you wouldn’t otherwise choose to be around. As an adult, if I’m around someone who gives racist vibes, I excise that negative energy from my life. As a 13-year-old, I have to show up to class and sit next to them the next day.
80%-90% of the racism came from a select group of individuals who were more prone to hateful rhetoric. When they didn’t win an argument or felt like establishing some sort of superiority over me or just wanted to make a cheap joke, they’d often turn to racism. While yes, you may know more about the nuances of the English language than me, to be clear, you and your kind are not wanted here.
Getting called a terrorist, or some derivative of a terrorist was the go-to refrain. The repetition over and over again made it by far the most hurtful comment. As if my family and I somehow had some say in the 9/11 attacks.
In hindsight, however, the insult that’s most interesting was “sand n*gger.” And to be clear it wasn’t the version with a casual “a” at the end—this was a hard “er” sound.
To go back to my earlier conversation with my ex-girlfriend, if someone were to call a black student the n-word, it would be a problem. Other students would be shocked. People all over school would be talking about it. Parent meetings with the principal would follow, and those would be backed up by a two-day suspension.
But for calling a brown student a sand n*gger? No one seemed to think that was out of line. It was an acceptable way to use the n-word that didn’t stop anyone in their tracks except the person who it was intended for.
While the select group of agitators was responsible for most of these attacks, sometimes I’d be on the receiving end of off-hand remarks from those closest to me. One time I was waiting with my friends for our school bus; we had been stranded for 20 minutes or so because of some trouble with it, and we were awaiting the arrival of another bus to take its place. One of my best friends offered up a solution, “Hey Moose, you should go hijack a bus since that’s what your people do.”
The entire group laughed at the remark. I looked down at the ground and coughed out a laugh as if it didn’t bother me.
It was a particularly strange remark considering we both have grandparents from the Indian subcontinent. Since he was mixed race, however, he passed as white.
(In fairness to him, years later he spit in the drink of someone who was making racist remarks to me. As you can see, this shit is complicated.)
When I think about the experience as a whole, it’s strange that not a single student in response to hearing a slur or insult thrown my way over the course of four years said, “Yo Scott. That’s just racist. What are you doing?”
Not to say that every student laughed along, but the fact that not a single one objected is a testament to how dehumanized brown Muslim Americans were (and still are)—not only was it OK to insult us, but we weren't even worth standing up for. And to be honest, that might have been the most hurtful part of it all.
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On Episode 7 of Brown Boy Problems: I do my best to break down for you the gradual effects racism had on me.
This essay was edited by Matt Goodgal and Meena Rajulu. Blame all grammatical errors on him and all style issues on her.
You can catch up on past writings here.
