“In the end antiblack, antifemale, and all forms of discrimination are equivalent to the same thing - antihumanism.”
Shirley Chisholm
by permission
by Nimah Muwakil Zakuri
Being a young, African, muslim woman anywhere on the planet is difficult. But never for one moment did I imagine that my pelau loving self would have had to go through what I did right here in the Caribbean.
The Museums Association of the Caribbean held its Annual General Meeting in Antigua this year and after three days of what I thought was a fairly successful encounter of museum professionals from across the region, I was faced with an Airport Supervisor who basically told me that I could not leave his country unless and until I removed my “scarf”, in reference to my khimar which everyone now knows as hijab.
When I refused and looked at all of them like they were going mad another officer jumped in and said that it’s the law and that they do this to other muslims and sheikhs and even nuns. They all “complied” so why was I making such a fuss about it?
I was in shock but then… looking back I should have seen it coming, with the locals dressing up at English Harbour in colonial military regalia trying to keep the fantasy alive for the hoards of Europeans arriving on cruise ships with their sacred dollars, and the constant referrals to England as the homeland in every sense of the word, even the hotel that I stayed in at Nelson’s Dockyard was built through the blood and sweat of the enslaved Africans, yet their was no acknowledgement of this fact, instead the rooms were named after English ships!!!!!!! I should have seen it coming, I should have realized that a great percentage of the Antiguan population (and by extension the Caribbean population) is still steeped in a colonial quandary, despite the fact that they are a “Sovereign State!” as another officer was quick to point out to me.
I just kept thinking that I was in a dream, that this could not be the same Caribbean that I belong to. The extent of my naivety hit me in the face like an old English anchor. I spent almost a decade in Cuba, married a Jamaican, travelled to Barbados, Venezuela, Panama etc. and this sort of thing never happened. I was most certainly caught off guard. Didn’t we pass this hurdle 15 years ago in Trinidad? Didn’t they see the logic in just letting a female officer use her fingers to touch my head to feel for foreign objects like they do in Cuba and everywhere else?
Well, I gave in, despite every cell in my body telling me that I should have staged a real protest right then and there, but it was late and I had not seen my daughter in 5 days so… I was lead into a private room with a female officer, removed my hijab for 3 seconds tops and walked out of there feeling raped. Using this logic everyone should have to take off their clothes and have all their private cavities searched (because apparently the scanner is only a “metal detector”). Who knows what the woman who was ahead of me could have had hidden in her well endowed bossom???
To top it all off a girl ("outta timin" as we say) sitting a stones throw away from me tells her friend in Spanish that I look like a “Taliban” and starts to laugh. To her shock and dismay I gave her a few choice Spanish words back as she melted into the hard airport chairs. As I waited for boarding I was literally shaking with anger.
On the plane when I was a bit calmer, I thanked God that I was not born into a country like that, who in 2011 were just coming into the 20th Century… I would go as far as to say that in many of their heads they are still on the plantation.
I can still feel the stony texture of the walls on the palms of my hands as every night I wondered what life was like on that old dockyard 300 years ago… and what life could be like years from now if and when we finally wake up…..
Shirley Chisholm
by permission
Antigua – “The beach is just the beginning…” (of a truly sad story)
Being a young, African, muslim woman anywhere on the planet is difficult. But never for one moment did I imagine that my pelau loving self would have had to go through what I did right here in the Caribbean.
The Museums Association of the Caribbean held its Annual General Meeting in Antigua this year and after three days of what I thought was a fairly successful encounter of museum professionals from across the region, I was faced with an Airport Supervisor who basically told me that I could not leave his country unless and until I removed my “scarf”, in reference to my khimar which everyone now knows as hijab.
When I refused and looked at all of them like they were going mad another officer jumped in and said that it’s the law and that they do this to other muslims and sheikhs and even nuns. They all “complied” so why was I making such a fuss about it?
I was in shock but then… looking back I should have seen it coming, with the locals dressing up at English Harbour in colonial military regalia trying to keep the fantasy alive for the hoards of Europeans arriving on cruise ships with their sacred dollars, and the constant referrals to England as the homeland in every sense of the word, even the hotel that I stayed in at Nelson’s Dockyard was built through the blood and sweat of the enslaved Africans, yet their was no acknowledgement of this fact, instead the rooms were named after English ships!!!!!!! I should have seen it coming, I should have realized that a great percentage of the Antiguan population (and by extension the Caribbean population) is still steeped in a colonial quandary, despite the fact that they are a “Sovereign State!” as another officer was quick to point out to me.
I just kept thinking that I was in a dream, that this could not be the same Caribbean that I belong to. The extent of my naivety hit me in the face like an old English anchor. I spent almost a decade in Cuba, married a Jamaican, travelled to Barbados, Venezuela, Panama etc. and this sort of thing never happened. I was most certainly caught off guard. Didn’t we pass this hurdle 15 years ago in Trinidad? Didn’t they see the logic in just letting a female officer use her fingers to touch my head to feel for foreign objects like they do in Cuba and everywhere else?
Well, I gave in, despite every cell in my body telling me that I should have staged a real protest right then and there, but it was late and I had not seen my daughter in 5 days so… I was lead into a private room with a female officer, removed my hijab for 3 seconds tops and walked out of there feeling raped. Using this logic everyone should have to take off their clothes and have all their private cavities searched (because apparently the scanner is only a “metal detector”). Who knows what the woman who was ahead of me could have had hidden in her well endowed bossom???
To top it all off a girl ("outta timin" as we say) sitting a stones throw away from me tells her friend in Spanish that I look like a “Taliban” and starts to laugh. To her shock and dismay I gave her a few choice Spanish words back as she melted into the hard airport chairs. As I waited for boarding I was literally shaking with anger.
On the plane when I was a bit calmer, I thanked God that I was not born into a country like that, who in 2011 were just coming into the 20th Century… I would go as far as to say that in many of their heads they are still on the plantation.
I can still feel the stony texture of the walls on the palms of my hands as every night I wondered what life was like on that old dockyard 300 years ago… and what life could be like years from now if and when we finally wake up…..
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