The Olive Skinned Girl At The Olive Garden--Repost

Inthe last month or so, so many tragedies have occurred that I’m not sure whereto begin or where to end. I was sitting at Olive Garden, (my pasta heaven, whatI consider my garden of Eden) the other day and it occurred to me that I don’t haveto be anywhere special these days; it is just as likely that I will be shot inan Olive Garden as anywhere else by a potential shooter or terrorist. Itoccurred to me that this is not heaven and things are looking a little hellish.For a moment I was afraid.

Youknow what some people may be saying about this type of fear: “Welcome to myworld.” It’s interesting that we now think we suddenly have a gunproblem when people have been shot left and right in the inner cities fordecades. Now it’s happening in the suburbs, so now it’s a problem. Peoplearound the world are living in war zones where they cannot go outside withoutfear of losing their lives. Now that it’s happening in America, it’s a problem.The world has a violence problem, a gun problem, and a hate problem: Not justAmerica.

InAmerica, we have first world problems though for sure.

Myfirst world problems are that I hate Donald Trump and It’s more likely that Iwill die in a car crash than die in a terrorist attack. I do not fear everytime I sit in a car that it will crash. Nor do I fear every time I step outsidemy door that I could be shot. You know why? Because they want me to fearfor my life. I won’t give them that.

Iwas in New York on 911 and if I learned one thing from that horrific attack: Iwill not hide, I will not fear for my life…I walked around outside that veryday, I went to public places where people were huddled around televisions. Ihad a picture of a Muslim woman wearing Hijab on my window before the attack. Inever took it down all year. I had pictures of Turbaned Sikhs also up on mywall. It was some sort of form of protest.

Allbrown people look the same to many white people, I have often been confused asbeing Middle Eastern. Many of my turbaned Sikh brothers were mistaken as Muslimterrorists. Sometimes I think I’m a Sikh American or Indian American, the titleof American Indian is already taken. But the truth is, I’m an American,American.

I’mso spoiled I think it’s a chore to do laundry when laundry actually doesitself in this country. I’m so sheltered I get upset when my wifi doesn’trespond in a matter of microseconds at this point. (I’ve heard the Internet canactually go faster than it does, but that it would be too much for us if theylet that happen.) Maybe I’m an American Indian Princess. Maybe all Americansare kind of royalty in this messed up world. I have no idea what it means to behungry, and maybe that is a good thing.

Youknow why they Hate us right? Because we don’t know…there is so much we don’texperience in this rich, abundant country. I know not everyone is rich, but Iwill tell you when you see a naked beggar with leprosy outside your window inIndia, you realize there is a different kind of poverty in many parts of theworld. When you see footage of kids running away from bombs in the Middle East,you realize we have a relatively peaceful existence.

Idon’t know what I did to deserve such an honor to be in such a safe and amazingcountry such as the U.S. I don’t think America is perfect, I just think I’mglad I grew up here than in a country where women are married off at a youngage and are given less than perfect freedom. If I grew up in India, I wouldhave been married in my twenties possibly to a man who was a perfectstranger and have produced like four kids or so. I would be told that my‘writing’ was too radical that if I didn’t tone it down, people would hurt me.I might even be censored. People might hurt me. India is not a bad country,that is not what the point of this is. We can talk about the merits anddemerits of our countries later. Right now I’m talking about my privilege inAmerica.

Ihave so much privilege because I don’t have to worry about being kidnapped bythe Taliban, or ISIS. I can walk outside and loudly sing a prayer from myscripture, and no one will bother me. I have the right to write this. I’m notscared. Bloggers are being killed all around the world. Salman Rushdie had thefatwa, the death sentence, thrown at him for much of his adult life for writingthings against Islam.

Thisis not a joke, is it? I live here, with the freedom of speech. I’m allowed tosay bad words about ISIS and Donald Trump and join all the haters. The hatersgonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Let's sing about it...

I’mallowed to do all of that. But for a minute I’m tired. I’m tired of using nastywords that my mother swears no young woman should say about presidentialcandidates and terrorists. (it’s cute that she still calls me young). Much ofwhat is now ISIS began in some of the poorest countries in the world: Pakistan,Palestine. Those people in those countries who teach young kids to hate Americahate us because they think we are rich and we don’t care about them.

Thetruth is, I’m relatively rich, in a worldly sense. I don’t remember the lasttime I cared that there are people around the world sooo poor, without jobs,that they having nothing to do but hate. When is the last time I cared aboutthat more than I cared about balancing my own checkbook? And if I care, what doI do?

Ithink it starts with a conversation.

Thoselittle kids in those schools who are taught to hate America in the Middle East,those are just kids. Those people who blow up cities and airplanes andbuildings, they are just people, big kids. Of course, they are doing the wrongthing, but do we ever ask ourselves, why are they doing it? They hate us, wehate them. And we don’t even know who them is, or where they are. We hate, andwe don’t know who to hate, they hate and they don’t know why they hate.

Infact, there is so much hate…that all of a sudden I hate, hate.

I’mnot gonna go ahead and say love your terrorists and kumbaya. I’m gonna go aheadand say that’s a little crazy, that’s asking too much.

Maybeinstead of ‘loving’ an extremely poor country like Pakistan that is harboringterrorists, and instead of just giving them aid so they can make nuclearbombs...Why don’t we build something for them, like help them have an industry,jobs, a decent way of life? We are not doing this because we have to take careof the world, we are doing this so they stop terrorizing us.

I’mnot a politician, nor do I ever want to be one. I don’t think I or anyone forthat matter has the answers to these difficult questions of terrorism andleadership. I am only sure that Donald Trump can’t fix these problems alone,nor can Hillary Clinton. In Barak Obama’s speech he mentioned us, we thepeople. It’s time for us to step up and take a stand. These geniuses at the topare not gonna cut it anymore.

nina