While on the hunt for lasagna noodles, I accidentally collided carts with another shopper. I quickly chuckled and offered a quick “sorry,” glancing up to meet her gaze. The woman, sporting a beautiful blue and silver headscarf, flashed a smile before continuing on her way. I couldn’t help but admire how perfectly she had styled it—something I had attempted unsuccessfully numerous times.
Our paths crossed several times in the store, each encounter accompanied by those familiar polite smiles. You know the type—the “I’m friendly, but please don’t engage me in conversation” kind of smiles. Finally, while perusing the baking aisle, I decided to break the ice.
“I love your scarf! It’s stunning! I’m envious of how flawlessly you have it on,” I commented. “I always seem to mess it up when I try.” Her surprised expression morphed into a bright smile.
“Oh, it’s simple!” she replied eagerly.
Despite my protestations about my lack of skill, she insisted, “Let me show you!” Right there, in the middle of the baking aisle, she started to unwrap her scarf, removing pins and demonstrating how to tie it smoothly. As she taught me, laughter faded, and I found myself curious about her background. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“Egypt,” she answered.
“Are you Muslim?” I inquired, and her smile faltered, revealing a hint of caution as she nodded. “Yes, I am.”
In that moment, something unexpected washed over me, and my eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for the hate you’re hearing. I’m sorry you’re judged for something that shouldn’t define you. I’m sorry you feel fear when someone asks about your beliefs.” Tears streamed down my cheeks as I asked if I could give her a hug.
She looked taken aback, but her eyes glistened with tears too. “Yes,” she said, embracing me warmly.
Her name was Leila, and we spent a long while talking about the state of the world and the duality of good and bad that exists everywhere. We acknowledged that there are good and bad people across all religions—Jews, Christians, Muslims—there’s good and bad in everyone.
I’ll admit, grappling with this reality has been challenging for me. I’m just an average mom trying to raise my kids in what feels like a turbulent world. I worry about their future, about politics, and yes, I admit, I feel a visceral fear of groups like ISIS. They embody a brand of evil that terrorizes many. But they don’t represent every Muslim, and I’ve let fear cloud my perspective.
Navigating these new threats to our society has been tough. I’m hesitant about allowing a large influx of refugees without proper vetting. I staunchly support the right to bear arms, yet I believe in the importance of oversight in gun sales. We need to secure our borders and prioritize helping Americans, especially veterans in need. Yet perhaps the greatest threat we face is allowing fear to dictate our actions. We must strive to keep fear from changing the very fabric of our nation.
My children observe my actions closely as they learn about this complex world. I teach them to be vigilant, to trust their instincts, and to speak up if something feels off. But I also instill in them the belief that most people are inherently good. I encourage them to refrain from judging others based on race, religion, or background. Above all, I teach them to choose love.
In my conversation with Leila, I recalled a phrase my friend Carla had shared on social media. I asked Leila if she could help me with the pronunciation. “As-salamu alaykum,” she taught me, the words resonating deeply. It means “peace be with you,” and it’s a common greeting among Muslims. It made me reflect on how we all yearn for peace, regardless of our beliefs.
Peace, whether expressed as “As-salamu alaykum” or “Shalom,” is what we all ultimately desire. Fear won’t lead us to it; only love can.
Choose love. Love wins.