For those of you that don’t know what it’s like to be a Muslim in rural America, let me enlighten you.

For the past year, I’ve been living in Baltimore so, as crazy as it is, I managed to forget what it felt like to be different.

But moving back to Hagerstown this past Summer made me aware of the immense state of Islamaphobia that has intoxicated the United States.

So, as I re-learned how to react to bigotry, and anger, I thought why not make people aware of the struggles we are fighting.

Being Muslim is driving in your car and being flicked off just for existing.

Being Muslim is driving to your brothers wedding, being lost in your smiles and excitement when you here a string of curse words being launched at you. You feel like an exotic animal at the zoo, when you hear there words, “That’s a f*cking Muslim. I’ve never seen one in real life, eww what the f***”

Being Muslim is going to the mall with your friends only to hear the lady next to you complain to her husband because of your presence in the store. It is pretending not to notice that she is staring at you as you hear her tell her husband that she wishes she could punch you in the face. You keep that smile plastered on your face and continue to ignore, continue to pretend.

Being Muslim is feeling obliged to look as non-threatening and amicable as possible. It is feeling the need to change yourself, change your mood so other people feel more comfortable. It is stamping a smile on your face whether or not you want it to be there just so everyone around you might feel less uncomfortable.

Being Muslim is having conversations cut short.

Being Muslim is blank stares.

It is fear in your heart.

It is words of resistance dancing on your tongue that you just cant manage to get out.

It is trying to apologize for crimes you didn’t commit.

It is being called a terrorist despite being so terrified.

I forgot what it felt like to be different, to be exotic, to be a target.

I forgot how to fight. How to be unapologetically Muslim, unapologetically confident, empowered, and passionate. But experience is the greatest teacher and I am a pretty good student.

I don’t worry about myself. I worry about my brothers and sisters, I worry about our youth who have had to grow up with such intense bigotry.

Last week, a nine-year-old girl came up to me with a bright and beautiful smile on her face. “Salaam (an islamic greeting of peace), I was just wondering, what should I say if someone calls me a terrorist?” I told her about empowerment, confidence, and fighting for justice. I told her about MLK and our Prophet (pbuh) and the thousands of battles that people have lead before us. I told her “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent” (that’s an Eleanor Rooossevelt quote). I told her about loving herself and her identity. I told her when someone calls you a terrorist, you do not laugh it off as a joke, you don’t try to smile and pretend nothing happened, you don’t accept the label that is being placed on you. You resist. You break free. And when the world tries to tie you down, when it tries to put a tape on your mouth you go and scream that much louder.

As I was telling her all of this I realized that I am the height of hypocrisy. I said all of these words to her but I have yet to implement them in my life.

With all of its pain, bigotry, and heartbreak I still love this place. I love the United States. I love Hagerstown.

But sometimes it’s hard to love a place that seems to hate you back.