Earlier this summer—after a series of mass shootings, abortion bans, general heartbreak, and an excellent teaching conference—I went to a cafe to drink an iced latte and write when a white stranger walked by and called me the N* word.
I couldn’t write after that.
A few days later, I left the U.S. for Morocco. It felt appropriate. I had never been to the country before, and I had thought about visiting often while I worked on my Ph.D.
In early July, after a series of events in Rabat, my housemate declared—You are the most racially ambiguous person here.
We’ve laughed so much about it since…but it’s also true — in this part of the world.
It is not the kind of racial invisibility and intentional erasure that I still have not learned to live with in the U.S.
Rather, it often begins with an assumption and insistence of belonging followed by uncertainty — because my face and way belongs to some version of here (and there are many versions of identity here) but my words and walk betray I am from else where. I think it’s why I find joy and amusement in the confusion, and not anger or sadness.
About a week ago, I went out for a walk in the botanical garden outside my window. Right before sunset, the security guards began blowing their whistles. I continued walking and looking at the pomegranate trees until a guard waved at me indicating it was time to leave.
I asked, الوقت انتهى؟
He said, نعم … and then slowly repeated my words, الوقت انتهى
So I turned to walk back toward one of the open gates, when the guard stopped me again and asked, جنسيتك؟
I laughed. خمّن
So he said, Libyan?
I said no.
He said, Iraqi??
I said no.
He said, Emirati???
I said no.
He said, Kuwaiti??!
I said no.
He said, Well, I know you’re not Syrian—pointing out my darker features.
So I said, What about Moroccan?
He said, I thought so, but then you spoke.
I laughed and said, You’ll find my people further east.
He said, Where?
I said, Bangladesh.
And then he laughed and said, Near India!
I said yes, and Burma.
But also, I wasn’t born there. I’m from the U.S.
He was confused again.
And I said مع السلامة and تشرفنا and left the park.