It must be a strange thing to be a parent. To be handed a squirming eight pound mass and sign your life off in exchange for theirs. It must be strange because it reduces thirty year olds to making cooing noises and crawling around on the floor holding stuffed caterpillars with their six month olds. It causes a parent to use every single ingredient in the pantry to bake a cake just to see what it would taste like with their curious three year old. But even stranger than that is the fact that while watching your teenage daughter talk to you and defend passionately her point of view as to why she shouldn't have to do the dishes ever, you can see yourself. It's mesmerizing, this mirror within your child. And if you try hard enough, you can remember the anguish and confusion, and you swear to yourself that you won't let your child make your same mistakes. You foolishly think that if you can bubble wrap every square inch of their world, that somehow nothing will ever hurt them. You push out of your mind that sometimes, the real trouble lies tucked beneath their own skin, or within the folds of your family, or in the hallways of the school they spend 40 hours a week in. And by the time they have become a teen, you have become so preoccupied with bubble wrapping any possible danger that you forget that sometimes, it's necessary to fall, in order to learn how to get back up again.
Walking through the halls of a highschool, the layers of social strata are obvious. There are the kids that walk as close to the wall as they can, as if invisibility is a gift rather than a drawback, there are the kids that make their life mission to stand out with dyed hair and piercings, then there are the kids that seem to succeed in every single thing they do without even seeming to try. But despite the external differences, we are all the same underneath the surface. We are all trying to find just exactly what we want to live for. It doesn't matter how much guidance and directions we are given from family and friends, at some point as a teen we will question everything we have ever stood for and believed in.
This period of uncertainty is nothing to lose sleep over-it happens to everyone, but it seems that parents within the Muslim community live their lives studiously trying to avoid the period of turmoil that their teen is bound to go through. It's this reason that Islamic Schools seem to be overflowing with kids despite the gross bathrooms, ugly uniforms, and saucy students. Parents feel that if their kid is surrounded by other Muslims that maybe they will keep the same values (as if values could be transmitted by osmosis) and the fact that the happenings at an Islamic School are the exact same as they would be at a public school seem to slip their minds. From what I have seen and the long-drawn complaints/stories/rants of my American Muslim friends, Muslim parents are their own breed of overprotective. And while many parents would argue that there is no such thing as being too safe, let me tell you: there is. In my high school alone there are dozens of cases of the American Muslim kids that just needed to find a way to vent and deal with their parents stiffling rules. There is the girl who sneaks mini skirts and tank tops in her backpack to change into in the school bathroom because her parents monitor EVERYTHING she wears, there is the boy who smokes pot behind the school on late starts so he can cope with his overly demanding parents, and the girl who drinks and puts an alarm on her phone so she can sober up before she gets picked up by her parents. There are dozens more scenarios like these, and that's in my school alone.
So by now, you're probably wondering why you even had kids in the first place, and the answer to that is so that you could spend 100 grand on college, another 50 grand on their wedding, and of course, the three in the morning calls when they really need you. What a joy. But if I could give any advice to parents, it would be this: let us fall on our faces once in a while-early. As teens, sometimes we do need to touch the fire to know that it's hot. I'm not saying that letting your kid fall on their face will work in your favor everytime, but I can tell you right now, I learned more from my mistakes than the three million groundings and lectures I ever got from my parents. It's when you hold your kid back from making any mistakes that they go wild. I can promise you, that with many crazy teens you see, it's not because they were born that way. It's because at some point in time, they began to feel like they couldn't meet their parents expectations. And although watching your kid reach for the flame may well be the hardest thing you have ever done, it may also be the most beneficial for your child.
For me, the most important thing my parents ever did was to have a relationship with me in conjunction to "parenting" me. Through the yellings and fights and all of the emails that landed in my mom's inbox (she now reads them for entertainment), we had a relationship. We truly lived. Me and my mom had wrestling matches on the kitchen floor (okay we still do), and me and my dad danced in the middle of the road to Boom Boom Pow on New Years Eve, and we went out to breakfast at two in the morning just because. It was the laughter we shared and the optimistic attitudes with which we all went about our lives that has made me able to respect the guidelines my parents set out for me. They let me fall on my face and get hurt in order to realize that the path they had set out for me was probably the best path out there for me anyways despite all the "fun" other kids seemed to be having. Although I'm not so sure my dad will have the whole "let you stumble and fall" approach when it comes to being behind the wheel...
Parenting, I would imagine, is like a huge balancing act. You find somewhere on the spectrum between psychotic overprotectiveness and indifference, and try your hardest to be there. And as hard as it may seem, sometimes the best thing you can do for your child is to pull back some of that bubble wrap so that they can learn how to deal with life when things get rough.
Samar
Friday, April 22, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Window Into My World
As teenagers we tend to think that we're invincible. We think that we are impervious to any fatality or misfortune. To us, the future seems like a God-given right. But on Valentines Day I found myself at the funeral of my friend Bilal. He wasn't my best friend, but he was a friend. He was only 15 years old. It made me keenly aware that each day is a blessing and not a right. It’s a gift to be lived.
I am a teen. Yes, I too get in fights with my mother, get grounded for texting at the table and for not being home by curfew. But the one difference between me and the rest of American teenagers with pierced tongues and blue hair (aside from the fact that I have neither) is the fact that in addition to my American identity, I am also of Muslim faith. As well as carrying my phone, lip gloss, and sunglasses in my purse, I also carry a scarf with me. And in the middle of wondering with my friends what happened to K-Fed and why on earth Brittney is still trying to make a comeback, I get up to go pray (well at least I try to most of the time). It's this constant goal of trying to attain moderation in my life that sets me apart from most teens. Most days I delight in this task, it's like trying to separate Oreos apart and trying to get the cream all on one side (for those of you who haven't done that, it is basically the epitome of life). But sometimes, trying to maintain who I am in a world where morality and ethics aren't well accommodated can be pretty tough. Especially when I see so many of my American Muslim peers struggling and choosing the path of least resistance.
That's when I decided that my voice needed to be heard-and by someone else besides my mom. I needed adults to understand that contrary to what they think, high school has changed. Arguments with parents for the most part is like trying to convince a brick wall to walk- it's futile. Adults think they hold all answers for everything (but if they did, wouldn't we have found a cure for cancer or a way for world peace by now?), and teens refuse to accept that and believe that they are always right (but if that was the case then teachers would be out of work). It's a tough wall to scale and often times, parents just give up the battles and leave their kid to sleep in until 3 in the afternoon or play COD all night simply because they just don't feel it's worth the fight. And most arguments end in slammed doors, tears, stormy silences, or if you're my parent, a four page email landing in your inbox filled with phrases like "why can't you ever understand" or "you're ruining my life!" (yes I know, I must be a delightful kid to parent). So when it comes to issues like whether or not to go to Homecoming, or how to be modest while still wearing your volleyball uniform; issues only faced by the American Muslim teen that's still trying to be normal, it's essential that parents take the time to understand what it's like and empathize and try to age yourself backwards to the time when popped collars and jelly shoes were the most important thing on your horizon.
That's why I want adults to listen to me and not just see me as Humaira and Edmund's Daughter, or Lemon Bar Girl, but as the teen trying to give you a window into her world, so that when you're sitting in the car with your kid, battling over listening to NPR or B96, you can be able to slide yourself across to the passenger seat, and into your child's converse shoes, and see right through their eyes. I want to tell you the struggles that we have, and the choices we face, and most importantly, how we feel about those choices. I will admit, that as teenagers in a nation that is open and accepting to other kinds of people, and as a part of one of the most privileged groups in the world, we certainly have it good. But that in no way lessens the struggles we face.
Samar
I am a teen. Yes, I too get in fights with my mother, get grounded for texting at the table and for not being home by curfew. But the one difference between me and the rest of American teenagers with pierced tongues and blue hair (aside from the fact that I have neither) is the fact that in addition to my American identity, I am also of Muslim faith. As well as carrying my phone, lip gloss, and sunglasses in my purse, I also carry a scarf with me. And in the middle of wondering with my friends what happened to K-Fed and why on earth Brittney is still trying to make a comeback, I get up to go pray (well at least I try to most of the time). It's this constant goal of trying to attain moderation in my life that sets me apart from most teens. Most days I delight in this task, it's like trying to separate Oreos apart and trying to get the cream all on one side (for those of you who haven't done that, it is basically the epitome of life). But sometimes, trying to maintain who I am in a world where morality and ethics aren't well accommodated can be pretty tough. Especially when I see so many of my American Muslim peers struggling and choosing the path of least resistance.
That's when I decided that my voice needed to be heard-and by someone else besides my mom. I needed adults to understand that contrary to what they think, high school has changed. Arguments with parents for the most part is like trying to convince a brick wall to walk- it's futile. Adults think they hold all answers for everything (but if they did, wouldn't we have found a cure for cancer or a way for world peace by now?), and teens refuse to accept that and believe that they are always right (but if that was the case then teachers would be out of work). It's a tough wall to scale and often times, parents just give up the battles and leave their kid to sleep in until 3 in the afternoon or play COD all night simply because they just don't feel it's worth the fight. And most arguments end in slammed doors, tears, stormy silences, or if you're my parent, a four page email landing in your inbox filled with phrases like "why can't you ever understand" or "you're ruining my life!" (yes I know, I must be a delightful kid to parent). So when it comes to issues like whether or not to go to Homecoming, or how to be modest while still wearing your volleyball uniform; issues only faced by the American Muslim teen that's still trying to be normal, it's essential that parents take the time to understand what it's like and empathize and try to age yourself backwards to the time when popped collars and jelly shoes were the most important thing on your horizon.
That's why I want adults to listen to me and not just see me as Humaira and Edmund's Daughter, or Lemon Bar Girl, but as the teen trying to give you a window into her world, so that when you're sitting in the car with your kid, battling over listening to NPR or B96, you can be able to slide yourself across to the passenger seat, and into your child's converse shoes, and see right through their eyes. I want to tell you the struggles that we have, and the choices we face, and most importantly, how we feel about those choices. I will admit, that as teenagers in a nation that is open and accepting to other kinds of people, and as a part of one of the most privileged groups in the world, we certainly have it good. But that in no way lessens the struggles we face.
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