How Does It Feel to Be A Problem: Being Young and Arab in America (2008)

Sami is a strong-bodied and strong-minded young man. Though his family comes from Egypt, Sami describes himself as an atypical Arab-American. He is not Muslim, but Christian, and his beliefs otherwise do not align with typical images of Arab-Americans. In his words: “I don’t listen to Arabic music. I don’t watch Arabic programming. I hate going to Egypt. I hate going overseas. I date a Puerto Rican female” (49). Sami finds himself at odds with the college Arab student group he joins, where they take exception with his background as a Marine in the Iraq war. 

During the war in Iraq, Sami often feels torn between his Arab identity and his need to perform as a soldier, afraid of the scrutiny that will be directed toward him if he appears “soft on the enemy” (65). After his experience in the Marines—witnessing the mistreatment of Iraqis and the cavalier attitudes of U.S. troops—Sami no longer supports the war in Iraq. He explains, however, that he will always support the soldiers and the personal sacrifices they make. 

After returning to New York, Sami resolves to articulate his multifaceted identity through a tattoo that features lights spelling “NYC,” Arabic text spelling, “Always remembered, never forgotten,” and a moon vaguely printed with the logo of the Marines (79). Sami’s section demonstrates the possibility of working through conflicting aspects of Arab-American experience to form a unique personal identity.

Yasmin is a courageous, civic-minded, hijab-wearing high school student. When her school attempts to prevent her from participating in student government—creating a policy that all student government officials must attend school dances, which her religion prohibits—Yasmin bravely fights against this policy. She performs extensive research, maintains a file with detailed notes of all her interactions with the principal, and continually re-runs for student government positions. Eventually, she brings her case to a pro-bono lawyer and effectively changes the school’s policy.

Though some of Yasmin’s fellow students, including Muslims, question the importance of her fight, she maintains that the issue is not her own, individual battle, but the school’s systemic discrimination against Muslims. As she explains to her father, her case might support the development of a new law prohibiting such discrimination, and “[i]f it becomes a good law, then it applies everywhere!” (106). Her story demonstrates the value of persevering through adversity and challenging the stereotypical image of Islamic women as passive and subservient.

Akram is a hard-working, young Palestinian-American man, attending college while also working well over forty hours per week in her family’s store, Mike’s Food Center. He is adept at managing the needs of the store’s diverse client base, which reflects the wide ranging demographics of his Brooklyn neighborhood. Clients include fellow Arab-Americans, Caribbean-Americans, and African-Americans. After 9/11, most of the community bands together in support of this local Arab-American store, but Bayoumi recognizes that many other local Arab-owned businesses were subject to reactionary vandalism and violence.  

Though Mike’s Food Center is spared from violence, Akram encounters disturbing discrimination against his wearing of the keffiyeh in the halls of his high school. Teachers misunderstand this traditional Palestinian garment, falsely aligning it with terrorism after the events of September 11th. Akram grows weary of these discriminatory attitudes and decides that he will be able to build a better future for himself by moving to Dubai. 

Akram’s chapter illustrates the complexity of establishing a home when you “don’t have a country to lay claim to” (127). His move to Dubai demonstrates that for many Arab-Americans, the American dream is a portable fantasy, and the concept of “home” necessarily adapts to different spaces.

Lina is an intelligent woman from an affluent Iraqi family whose complicated experiences take her all across the U.S., Iraq, and—ultimately—to a new home in Syria. She tries on numerous roles, identifying with the black and Latino residents in her homes of Hyattsville and Elkridge (to her mother’s chagrin), then adopting a more pious, traditional Islamic perspective when she lives under strict sanctions with family members in Iraq. 

After Lina returns to the US and her mother suddenly passes away, she sets out on a quest to find herself, connecting with fellow Arab-Americans and maintaining those connections even when they are taken to jail for making false statements in an FBI investigation. Eventually, she marries a fellow Iraqi named Laith, taking pride in the fact that she has carried on her heritage. Despite their pride in their Iraqi background, both she and Laith decide to forge a new home together in Syria, claiming “There is no Iraq anymore” (183).

Lina’s story continues to develop the theme of finding (and relocating) “home,” a theme introduced in Akram’s section. The convoluted nature of her story also defies the “profiling” of Arab-Americans, containing “enough eccentric detail to make it impossible to generalize to all Iraqi Americans” (155).

Omar is a part-Chilean, part-Arab-American young man who becomes increasingly devoted to his Palestinian roots after the attacks of September 11th. He is passionate about his identity to the degree that he jokes, “my father […] diagnosed me with post-9/11 syndrome” (195). 

Omar finds connection to his heritage in ceremonies such as traditional Palestinian weddings, which are elaborate occasions filled with traditional food, dancing, and other signifiers of ethnic pride. Omar greatly enjoys these occasions and is eager to marry a fellow Arab-American woman from a traditional family named Nadine. He sees this marriage as a symbolic hallmark of his adulthood, a kind of essential coming of age as an Arab. As Omar explains: “Since we literally have no country […] the only thing we have is our identity, and it’s important for me, as the oldest son, to preserve that identity” (190). 

In order to marry Nadine, however, it is essential that Omar have a career. Unfortunately, he finds that his internship with Al-Jazeera—a well-respected news organization in the Arab and Muslim world—may have actually decreased his chances of landing a job in cable TV. Omar’s chapter tells the story of his struggles to find a job in spite of discriminatory perceptions toward Arab-Americans. They also demonstrate the irony of Omar’s passion for obtaining positive visibility for Arabs in news media (when his own career is threatened by the visibility of his Arab identity).