Post 911 America, Warts And All*

This piece was originally posted on July 6, 2011. It is being re-posted as part of our CHICKS ROCK! Summer Retrospective, during which we will post a combination of new content and posts from the past. Enjoy!

The United States of America has always had its critics. After the second Iraq War began in 2002, global criticism of the country grew considerably. It was a tricky time; if an American criticized the war, that person was considered unpatriotic. I even heard some people in the media saying that anyone critical against the military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan should leave the country for good. I was critical of the second Iraq War, but as a sister of a U.S. army officer, I am completely on the side of the troops who were and still are deployed overseas. I found the attacks on people who openly criticized the war to be similar to witch hunts, only there would be no literal burnings at the stake.

Even though I am not a Muslim or an Arab, I was told by a family member that our last name implies that we could be one or both. He also claimed that we were facing bias because of it in the workplace. I personally never felt this, and refused to succumb to pressure to change my last name in the new Post-9/11 America. After all, Sikhs were being attacked because of their turbans, and they are not Arabs or connected to the Muslim religion. These attacks really had to do with xenophobia, which is an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners and anything foreign. When I heard about the murder of a Sikh man mistaken for an Arab on September 15, 2001, I remembered reading that the murderer was ignorant and xenophobic to begin with. After 9/11, he decided to unleash his hatred as a form of vigilante justice on those who did not look right to him.

As I celebrate the America’s birthday this week, I am reminded of our continuing struggles for freedom and against bigotry. I am proud that as an American, I can openly support and criticize my country without fear of imprisonment. Difficult times, such as those faced after 9/11, remind me that we should NEVER take our freedoms for granted.

Post 911 America, Warts And All

The United States of America has always had its critics. After the second Iraq War began in 2002, global criticism of the country grew considerably. It was a tricky time; if an American criticized the war, that person was considered unpatriotic. I even heard some people in the media saying that anyone critical against the military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan should leave the country for good. I was critical of the second Iraq War, but as a sister of a U.S. army officer, I am completely on the side of the troops who were and still are deployed overseas. I found the attacks on people who openly criticized the war to be similar to witch hunts, only there would be no literal burnings at the stake.

Even though I am not a Muslim or an Arab, I was told by a family member that our last name implies that we could be one or both. He also claimed that we were facing bias because of it in the workplace. I personally never felt this, and refused to succumb to pressure to change my last name in the new Post-9/11 America. After all, Sikhs were being attacked because of their turbans, and they are not Arabs or connected to the Muslim religion. These attacks really had to do with xenophobia, which is an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners and anything foreign. When I heard about the murder of a Sikh man mistaken for an Arab on September 15, 2001, I remembered reading that the murderer was ignorant and xenophobic to begin with. After 9/11, he decided to unleash his hatred as a form of vigilante justice on those who did not look right to him.

As I celebrate the America’s birthday this week, I am reminded of our continuing struggles for freedom and against bigotry. I am proud that as an American, I can openly support and criticize my country without fear of imprisonment. Difficult times, such as those faced after 9/11, remind me that we should NEVER take our freedoms for granted.

Election Day 2010 - Get Out & Vote

If you're eligible and registered to vote, be sure to get out there and vote today!

Voting is something that's always been very important to me -- it was the thing I looked forward to the most when I became a U.S. citizen. Because of that, I'm constantly reminding people to vote and encouraging them to educate themselves on the issues and who or what will be on their ballot come Election Day. And today, the day of the all-important midterm elections, I'm doing the same for all of you!

The first thing you need to do is figure out where to vote. Google has set up a function that allows you to look up your poll location and Facebook has a similar feature. You can also search for your Board of Elections and find a poll locator on their website, or at least a number you can call to find out where to go.

To find out what to expect when you get there, you can keep tabs on Election Protection's Twitter account and their #EP2010 hashtag where you can view or report problems at poll locations throughout the country.

Most importantly, to learn more about what will be on your ballot, one of your best resources will be the League of Women Voters' awesome site. You can use it to search for the elections in your area and to find out where some of the candidates stand on the major issues.

That's the scoop on the important things you need to know, so now you have no excuse to stay away from the polls. Voting is one of the best things you can do to take full advantage of your citizenship and your rights as an American. It's one major way to get your voice heard and to be clear about what direction you want the country to go in.

Do you vote on Election Day? If not, what are some of the things that hold you back?

Where Are You From?

Living in the U.S., particularly New York, it's very common to hear the question "where are you from?" This, of course, can mean anything: What state or city do you live in? Where did you grow up? What country were you or your parents born in? It's up to us to decipher which one they might mean and hope the answer satisfies them, but in my experience they usually mean, what is your cultural background?

A lot of people don't bother to ask me "where are you from?," they assume they already know. Even though I'm very open with people about my cultural background, I've found that whenever somebody doesn't know me, they can't seem to figure out where I'm from. This makes for some interesting scenarios, like the time I went to a deli and the man behind the counter started speaking to me in Urdu. When I stared blankly at him and simply asked how much my items came to, he was shocked -- "You are not from Pakistan?!" I smiled politely and said no, but he insisted "You look like you're from Pakistan!"

Things like this seem to happen to me all the time, just with different languages and different countries. Off the top of my head, I can recount being identified as being from: Pakistan, Mexico, India, Ecuador, Puerto Rico, Bangladesh, etc.

I know people who get upset when their ethnicity is incorrectly assumed. They're suddenly filled with a cultural pride and insist that, no, they are most certainly NOT from whatever country you think they're from. I react rather differently, and instead of expressing anger or discomfort, I simply laugh it off and think about how arbitrary it all is. We attach such value to physical characteristics and personality traits that a Dominican with brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and a quiet demeanor can be mistaken as being from half a dozen different countries.

I think from now on when people ask "where are you from?" I'll just smile and tell them to guess. Let's see what they come up with!

Questions of My American Identity

CHICKS ROCK! welcomes our next guest blogger, and TWM's newest intern, Bridget:

Bridget is a senior at Vassar College, studying Political Science and Women's Studies. She loves watching movies with her younger brother and playing rugby for her school.


Being American is something I never particularly thought about or questioned before I went to study abroad for a semester in Copenhagen, Denmark. At home, I considered my experience unique, exceptional to the general stereotypes of a red-meat-eating, baseball-loving American. I identified regionally, as a New Yorker first and a liberal arts student second. However, being abroad, an outsider in a foreign country, whose language I was struggling to learn, I was confronted with questions of my own identity.

In the months abroad, a special camaraderie formed between me and my American classmates as we tried to navigate maps of the city, learn appropriate patience when waiting for the street light to change, and taste delicious Danish pastries. They hailed from all across America -- Tennessee, Ohio, and the US/Mexico border. The differences in attitude and social customs that I thought once divided me from people outside of New York dissolved as I began to recognize our commonalities. Coping in the European context, I could not rely on the fixed pose of the fast-paced, hard-nosed New Yorker. From the Danes’ perspective, we weren’t Southerners or New Yorkers, we were Americans. And so my classmates and I depended on each other, united over our confusion of Dane’s obsession with potatoes at every meal, the 4 hours of sunlight, and how Danish does not have an official word for “please.”

Reevaluating my own values, I began to appreciate home. As I compared it to Copenhagen, I realized just how fortunate and proud I am to be a citizen of a country where not everyone wears the same clothes, has the same political beliefs, or celebrates the same holidays. Although my classmates and I have different accents, we all share similar experiences, values, and hopes for a better future. We are lucky to live in an incredibly nuanced and diverse country. Reflecting on my time abroad and watching the inauguration of our new president, I am reminded that, despite our diversity, we are truly unified as a people. I take great pride in introducing myself, no longer as "Bridget from New York," but "Bridget from the USA."

Tales of a Cultural Outsider

Like many children of immigrants, I grew up trying to reconcile elements of my parents’ culture with my own American experiences. It has been a challenge, because I never felt like I belonged in the American Desi community or in the predominantly white suburban town where I grew up. I have accepted that my brown skin and Indian features will always label me as "different" and "foreign" in my New Jersey hometown. What surprises me the most are the chilly encounters I have experienced with many Indian strangers, acquaintances, and even certain members of my extended family. Ever since I can remember, I have always been a cultural outsider.

I recently experienced this "cultural bias from within" on my bus ride home. An Indian man sitting behind me fell asleep and dropped his cell phone in the process. After returning the device to him, he ignored me completely and expressed gratitude to another passenger (who was white) for waking him up. My instincts told me it was more than just rudeness; I have noticed this type of unspoken coldness, which I think stems from a combination of cultural insecurity and arrogance. It is like an updated, watered-down version of the caste system, which is practiced beyond India’s borders.

My parents are cultural outsiders themselves: they never quite belonged to the South Indian Catholic community they came from. Certain relatives have criticized my parents for the way they raised my siblings and me. My mother and father encouraged us to make friends from all races and religions and to question authority with intelligence, ideas that are seen by some of my family members as too “American” for their tastes.

There are many exceptions to this, obviously. My best friend happens to be Indian, but she is a self-proclaimed outsider herself. I have also met many Indians who feel the same way I do, in varying degrees. Some of them, like me, make no apologies for being a cultural outsider, and will remain open to people of all nationalities, cultures, and beliefs.

Do you feel like a cultural outsider? Why or why not?

The World on the Stage

In the past few months, I've become completely obsessed with In the Heights. So I was the happiest chick in the world a couple of weeks ago when my sister got us tickets! The music and lyrics are great, and the energy of the show really comes through. Plus, you have to give it up to Lin-Manuel Miranda for creating a brand new musical not based on a book, movie, or play. Their success despite this is a testament to what an incredible piece of art and community it is.

But moving beyond its artistic merit and down-right fun times, I have to comment on what it feels like to be a Dominican immigrant watching this show. Without getting into too many details of what my family does, let me just say that the culture of bodegas and salons is as close to "home" for me as my actual place of residence. And the story of the heroine, Nina, is one I strongly relate to.

For my sisters and I, not going to college or dropping out for whatever reason was simply not an option. My parents worked too hard to bring us to this country to live out their dreams. Straying away from that course feels like adding a weight to their shoulders they just do not deserve. Even now, there is an immense pressure to keep on studying and settle down into a profession, and I really do feel I am letting them down whenever I tell them that I still don't know what I want to do. Add to that family, their friends, old neighbors and everyone else who feels they have a vested interest in my future, and that's a whole lot to live up to!

The feelings are similar for people from other backgrounds, but I think experiencing all of this as an immigrant adds a layer that many don't fully understand. So, seeing that story played out on the stage by people who have an inkling of what that really feels like makes me connect with it so much more.

Can any of you relate to this struggle? How do you think your background and that of your parents' play a role in it?

Musings of a Latina Immigrant

While I've admitted that my identity as a woman has often defined me more than being Latina, I've been more connected to the issues of immigrants and Latinos lately, especially with the case of Marcello Lucero.

In case you haven't heard by now (although it has finally started getting more attention), Lucero was murdered by a group of teenagers in Long Island, and one of the primary reasons cited is because he was Latino. I think there's a strong connection between fear of immigrants and violence against Latinos, and the details of this case make it clear, at least to me, that this is a connection being swept under the rug. By looking at instances of violence, harassment, and discrimination as isolated incidents, it allows us to ignore the conversation we so need.

This case has touched me much more than I expected. For starters, I went to college in Long Island, where we were aware of the tension around us, but had no idea how bad it was or how to deal with it. But on an even more personal level, being an immigrant myself has always been challenging. I've often felt excluded, despite being a naturalized citizen. I've heard it all, from being called a spic, to being told to swim back home.

But rather than be held down, I educate others about what it means to be an immigrant. I've tried to be a good citizen, voting in almost every election I've been eligible to vote in, becoming an activist, and striving to make this country better.

So I share this story with you not to bring you down, but to make you understand how these cases affect others. And while anger, rage, sadness, etc. can all be driving forces for us, I want to use this as a stepping point to move forward. I think we need to channel the initial emotion episodes like this spark to open up the discussion. I believe it's time we bring up all the misconceptions and realities to better understand all sides and close this chapter in our history.

That Voting Feeling

In NYC, the only place I’ve ever voted in person, you step behind a curtain, slide a lever, flip the switches next to your chosen candidates, then slide the lever back so your vote is counted. It is very tangible, the clunking sound of the lever locking into place and taking official note of your opinions at that moment. I always feel a little choked up as I step out of the booth and scurry home.

I don’t know exactly where that feeling comes from. People try to tell me that it’s pride – pride in the country, the system, the privilege of having my vote counted. But I’ve never really thought that was it. Frankly, I don’t always feel that much pride in our government, or even in most of our elected officials. It must be something else.

Maybe it’s just a release of tension after months of looking at candidates and hearing about issues and polls. Or maybe it’s a new and frenzied kind of stress that comes from knowing I have done everything I can and now it is time to wait in front of the TV to learn whether or not the country has come to its senses. Perhaps it is even a little twinge of hope—hope that the system can work and we can have change.

Yes, I’d like to think it is hope that I feel. I do know I am fortunate to live in a place and time where I can reasonably trust that my vote will be counted. I know that I will not be subjected to pain, fear, violence or intimidation as I approach my polling place, as happens in so many places around the world. As has happened at times in this nation’s history.

No one should stand in the voting booth and feel afraid. No one should have to look over her shoulder when she slips her card into the ballot box. Those reasons alone are enough to urge me to stand up. To say I am here, to make sure my voice and my vote count. It is why I will be standing in line tomorrow morning, looking for that voting feeling.

Go out and get yours! Maybe I’ll see you there.

A Voice from Colombia

We are happy to welcome Maria to CHICKS ROCK! Maria's story is a taste of what you will hear about the unique culture of Colombia and the experiences of its people at TWM's upcoming event, Close-Up on Colombia. We hope you'll join us so you can get to learn more about this country and culture. In the meantime, enjoy this as a short introduction to the Colombian experience:

Maria Angelica Martinez, born in Bogotá, Colombia, has been living in the United States for 9 years. She graduated from Baruch College and is currently working for an import-based small firm as Assistant to the CEO.


My name is Maria Angelica Martinez and I am 22 years old. I emigrated from my country, Colombia, in 1999 when I was 13 years old.

Being that so far I have lived almost half of my life in Colombia and half of it here, I guess I have been exposed to both worlds. I feel strongly influenced by the Colombian culture, but I’ve accepted my life in the U.S. Unfortunately, Colombia has very strong stereotypes for women, such as women being considered the weaker sex. Because I was raised by a very strong Colombian woman, my mother, I was taught very well to stand up for my beliefs and for my values, and that the stereotype is not real.

In corporate New York, the other Colombian stereotypes can turn out to be a challenge, but this is where the Colombian culture kicks in. We as Colombians are very step-forward people and very smart. We’re also very happy people, the kind of happy that’s contagious, so for the most part you’ll always see a Colombian in a good mood. As a Colombian woman, I consider myself a very strong and very down-to-earth woman; I can definitely fight the stereotypes and get my point across. I am very proud to be a woman, especially to be a Colombian woman. I think it is important to educate people about the country and for Colombians to spread the message to other people. This upcoming TWM event is the perfect opportunity to do so!

About Me...Where Do I Begin?

When I think of who I am, I think of many things. For starters, I see myself as a woman, an American, my parents' oldest child, my siblings' big sister, and a friend. Then I think of myself a first generation American with Indian immigrant parents. I know that at first glance, most people see a woman with brown skin, who may or may not be an American. Once upon a time, I used to feel insecure about this perception. Now, I don't have to make excuses about my identity to anyone, and I don't have to limit myself to one category. Thankfully, we live in a country that is more accepting of people defining themselves with multiple labels. At the very least, it is not as strange as it used to be.

I was born and raised in New Jersey, and yet I have never thought of myself as a "Jersey Girl." While I currently live in the suburbs of my birth state, I have also had the privilege of living in New York City, London, and Indonesia for certain periods of time. As a closeted "wanderlust addict," I strongly believe that living and traveling in other countries is the best education a person can have, but not everyone may agree with me on that theory.

Since becoming a member of The Women's Mosaic (TWM), I have also learned how important sisterhood is in my life. TWM's concept of unity and diversity co-existing and flourishing together is something I can fully understand and embrace in my own life. Because of my natural restlessness, I may succumb to my nomadic impulses and live abroad again. Even if I leave the U.S.A. to work and live elsewhere, I will always be connected to my family, my friends, and TWM. I am so glad to be a part of an organization that really speaks to me!