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Secure MAG
I went to an airport one day and I had to go through security
First they checked my bags and food for poisons and impurities
Then they made me take my shoes off and glanced at my turban
They probably think I’m a terrorist and I am eager to prove to them my suburban
Birth and roots; to show them my roots and place of origin
To prove them I’m not a terrorist but an average kid from Oregon
I try but I can never change what they think
A poem can’t change the mindset of people whether it be written in pencil or ink
The messages of stereotypes and racism are forever engraved
The innocent mind kills it questions and is forever enslaved
By the people
100 times you can check my background
But my turban will never come down
As I’m standing in the line
I’m trying to find one person whose situation is worse than mine
But I can’t
Everyone is staring at me because I look Arabic
If my heritage scares you that much I apologize – it’s inherited
You think I want to live this way?
Every building I enter people think I will blow up
Some of the remarks I hear I feel like I’m going to weep or throw up
It’s become a problem to even show up
In public places for my brothers to show their bearded faces
Without being subject to racist
Remarks and questions; everywhere we go we seem to give off impressions
Of absolute evil and destruction
Society isn’t broken but it can’t go wrong with construction
The problem isn’t evil or hate because people are good
People are creations of God and God is great
The way he should be. The problem is fear –
A fear so great it manifests itself as a disgusting hate
That makes and shapes the fates of the next generation
Who enter our society with this anticipation
To never sit next to an Indian or Arab on an airplane
This is our slice of the American pie and we’re told that this is a fair game
They say they give us the opportunity to rise but we don’t take it
Well, my friend, you have me standing here bare naked
In the middle of the airport; my articles of clothing politely “removed”
Just to soothe the white man standing to my right
Deprived of my rights as a citizen and a human
I speak with an edge, foaming at the mouth and fuming
Every word cringes to the last as the past is recollected
The memory infected and infested with memories of prejudice and discrimination
In this nation built on pillars of freedom and expression
And every man’s confession is valid
My skin is a vivacious brown not a bland pallid complexion
Let words be our guides and guide us in the correct direction
In this melting pot of cultures, let us avoid these vultures
That feed off of us. Racism at the airport is a disease but there is a cure
My people stand here degraded and humiliated just to make yours feel secure.
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This piece deals with the inherent discrimination in airports towards Arab/Indian Americans.