In writing about cities and the characteristics of urban settings, urban sociologists have considered anonymity to be a defining attribute of urbanity. In a city, you will blend in the mosaic of differences. You won’t stand out, because who’s looking? Everyone is busy—unlike small towns and villages, where the streets are calmer, the faces are familiar, and the pace is slower. Without a hijab and an almost-perfect “American” accent, an anonymous Muslim is how I’ve been feeling since I arrived in the United States in 2016. Nothing about me makes people turn heads as I walk by or when I speak. The two places I have lived so far, and the places I’ve visited have been diverse—and so I go around undetected. This anonymity has been both relieving and empowering, because there was a time in the late nineties when I lived here when I was quite the opposite. My conspicuity as a hijab-wearing teenager starting high school in New York City, who spoke slow English with an accent brought about physical and verbal bullying, discomfort, discrimination, alienation, and too many questions about Islam that were too hard for me…
Anonymous, Scared and Proud: Experiences of an Egyptian Muslim Woman in the United States
December 23, 2019
