In schools, on streets and TV, children feel Muslim backlash
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| Sofia Yassini, 8, poses for a photo outsider a mosque in Richardson, Texas, Friday, Dec. 11, 2015. After seeing presidential candidate Donald Trump call on television for barring Muslims from entering the country, the 8-year-old started packing her favorite things and checking the locks on the doors because, in her mind, Donald Trump’s push to ban Muslims entering the country meant the Army would come and rip her family from their home. Trumps remarks in the wake of the Dec. 2 shooting attack in San Bernardino, Calif., have stoked similar fears in Muslim children across the U.S. Their young minds, parents say, are confused about who the screaming man on TV is, what he’s saying about their faith and why thousands of their fellow Americans are cheering him on. |
A backlash against American Muslims is leaving a mark on some of the nation's youngest minds.
After
seeing presidential candidate Donald Trump call on television for
barring Muslims from entering the country, 8-year-old Sofia Yassini
checked the locks on her family's home in Plano, Texas, imagining the
Army would take them away. She raced to her room and stuffed a pair of
Barbie dolls, a tub of peanut butter and a toothbrush into a bag. She
insisted on bringing boots for the long boat ride she imagined was
coming.
When her mother, Melissa, arrived home from her work as a human resources manager, Sofia ran into her arms and cried.
"I
want people to understand the impact that their words have on these
children," said Melissa Yassini, who described the experience in a
Facebook post that had been shared more than 21,000 times as of Monday.
"We often forget, we're waging war on one another with words, and we're
adults. We can take it. The kids are suffering with this. They go to
school every day and they're afraid to tell people they're Muslim. This
has to stop."
Anti-Muslim sentiment was
building in the days before 14 people were killed Dec. 2 in the massacre
at a disability center in Southern California by a Muslim couple
investigators say were inspired at least in part by the Islamic State
group. Some governors had already said they wouldn't allow Syrians
fleeing civil war into their states because of extremist fears. Experts
say Trump's call Dec. 7 to keep all Muslims from entering the United
States - a plan he said would apply only temporarily and to non-citizens
- only fanned the flames.
Parents say their
children hear disparaging remarks in their own communities, see hateful
bumper stickers and T-shirts, and have had friends abandon them because
of their faith.
Ahad Khan, 12, came home from
school in rural Westminster, Maryland, in tears because his best friend
called him a future terrorist who couldn't be trusted, according to
Ahad's father, Raza Khan.
Khan, the chairman
of the science department at Carroll Community College, shared Ahad's
experience in an open letter to Trump on Facebook. As of Monday, it had
been shared more than 4,300 times.
"He is the
engine right now for that fearmongering," Khan said in an interview. "I
don't think he realizes that his words matter. He doesn't realize the
damaging effect his words can have on people, especially kids."
In
the minds of children - many long on imagination and short on political
understanding - phrases like "total and complete shutdown of Muslims"
can be traumatic, experts say.
"Children
expect that society will be nurturing and protective," said Mark
DeAntonio, a child psychiatry professor at the University of California
Los Angeles. "Statements implying detainment or exclusion for arbitrary
reason like race ethnicity or religion create anxiety and trauma."
Some children have questioned their faith and place in American society.
Kafumba
Kromah, of Minneapolis, said his 8-year-old daughter asked him: "Why we
are Muslims? Why can't we be what everybody else is?" His daughter
encouraged him to cancel a trip to his native Liberia for fear he would
be barred from returning.
Mehnaz Mahmood, of
Dallas, said her 7-year-old son urged her to switch to a black-and-white
hijab - so she would look more like a nun - after they were subjected
to anti-Muslim remarks outside his school this week.
Sam
Madi, of New Orleans, watched coverage of Trump's remarks with his
11-year-old son. He said he feared anti-Muslim sentiment would set back
progress in integrating Muslims into American society. Zane Madi plays
soccer and spends most weekends with his mother helping the city's
homeless.
"We're not prepared for this," said
Madi, whose father fled Iraq in the 1970s. "We're not prepared to sit
and educate our children why they're not any different from anybody
else. I don't think any parent is prepared for that. I don't care what
religion you believe or don't believe."
Parents
needn't shoulder the burden themselves, said Patricia Greenfield, a
psychology professor at UCLA. Teachers should talk about not
generalizing Muslims and ask children to reinforce their friendships
with Muslim students, she said in an email.
As
Khan, the father in Maryland, tucked his son in last week, he left him
with the words he recited when he became a U.S. citizen two decades ago:
"One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
"I
don't know why, I don't know how people forget that," Khan said later,
fighting back tears. "We have to; otherwise we're dividing ourselves."
