I remember the first time someone assumed that I was Muslim very vividly.Ā
I grew up in the Netherlands, where my family and I arrived in 1997 when I was only two years old. At age four, children in the Netherlands start going to primary school, so two years after my arrival in the country I started going to school.Ā
In Dutch primary schools, Christmas is celebrated with a Christmas dinner at school: Each child is asked to ask their parent or caregiver to make their favorite food and bring it to the dinner, so we can all enjoy a nice meal together. I look back at the pictures taken of my first Christmas dinner, and I see an extremely happy child. I smile from ear to ear in all pictures, which, to be honest, is how I still look when Iām in a room full of food.Ā
I donāt remember the pictures being taken, but I do remember that at one point I walked over to a table on which I saw a plate full of sausages. I remembered all the cartoons I had seen on TV and the hotdogs the characters ate: They seemed delicious, and I couldnāt wait to finally try them myself. My mom tried to keep us away from processed food as much as possible, so I was happy she was not around.Ā
As I grabbed a fork to put a sausage on my plate, my teacher came running my way and told me: āKosovare, you canāt have thoseā ā without any further explanation.Ā
I was confused. I looked over to the plate; there seemed to be plenty, why could I not have one? Were they really that unhealthy as my mom had told me, and if so, why were they brought to the classroom at all?Ā
Rarely does anyone guess my ethnicity, despite my name somewhat giving it away.
I didnāt challenge authority at all at that age (the good old daysā¦), all I remembered was my momās voice in my head saying: āThe teacher is always right,ā so I listened and stepped back.Ā
I became even more confused when I saw other children eating the sausages my teacher had stopped me from eating. It felt unfair, so when she wasnāt looking, I snuck a sausage in my mouth anyway (and I was sold: This was my favorite food now).
When my mom picked me up, I told her about the āincident,ā and how my teacher hadnāt allowed me to eat the sausage I so badly wanted to try ā leaving out the part that I sneakily ate them anyway. She started laughing and said: āThey were probably pork sausages, and your teacher probably thinks we are Muslim and therefore arenāt allowed to eat that.āĀ
Having almost black hair, black eyebrows, and simply not looking like the standard native Dutch person, Iāve always been mistaken for being either Northern African, Turkish or Middle Eastern. Rarely does anyone guess my ethnicity, despite my name somewhat giving it away. Because of this, people also automatically assumed I was Muslim and could therefore not do, eat or drink certain things.Ā
Itās true that I was raised with certain Muslim norms and values, but I never identified with the āMuslim label.ā Until age 12, I was in search of a religion that I could identify with; then I found out it was OK not to believe in anything at all, so Iāve identified as an atheist ever since.Ā
Growing up in the era after 9/11, anti-Muslim bigotry was continuously on the rise. I remember getting slightly annoyed when people assumed that I was Muslim, as if that was a bad thing. As an ethnic Albanian in the diaspora, especially in Western Europe, I was constantly othered and racialized: Sometimes I belonged to one ethnic group and others to another. I felt like I lost control over my own identity ā if I ever had control over it to begin with.Ā
Learning more about the history of the Ottoman occupation and how it affected Kosovo, I remember feeling annoyed in a different way: āHow could the Dutch make the assumption that Iām Muslim, that Iām equal to the people who oppressed me and my people for so long?!āĀ
I recognize how problematic that way of thinking is now, but I need to own up to my problematic ways of thinking in the past.
Muslims being stigmatized in the Netherlands played a big part in this too. Iād probably not have felt bad at all if Muslims were not stigmatized and marginalized: Had they, as a group, been associated with positive things, I would have perceived it as a compliment.Ā
But as it was, I felt offended. My train of thought, simply put, was as follows: āThe Dutch assume that Iām Muslim, and being Muslim is seen as something negative, and because of that Iām marginalizedā ā blaming the oppressed group, namely Muslims, instead of the Dutch, the oppressor of all minority groups in the country.
Of course, I recognize how problematic that way of thinking is now, but I need to own up to my problematic ways of thinking in the past: I was not born āwoke.ā The knowledge I have gained over the years is all due to unlearning and relearning ā something I am committed to for the rest of my life.Ā
I recognize, see, hear and read my past problematic thinking patterns a lot when talking to other Albanians who grew up in the diaspora ā in Kosovo too, but for the purpose of this article I want to focus on the Albanian diaspora, as ethnic Albanians in Kosovo do not have to fight for acceptance in a society where they are the dominant group.Ā
Albanians in the diaspora like myself try so desperately to fit into the societies we are born and/or brought up in, that we distance ourselves from anything the dominant group ā in my case, the Dutch ā despise. One of those things is Muslims, a very easy target in the West.Ā
I hear the most hateful things come out of the mouths of diaspora Albanians when Islam is discussed: āThanks to āthem,ā our people are still stuck inĀ medieval timesā; āItās because of āthemā that people think all of us are Muslims and therefore associate us with danger and terrorismā; āItās a backward religionā ā as if the Islam and Christianity do not have more similarities than differences; and my personal favorite, āItās not a European religionā ā as if Christianity originated in Europe.Ā
While saying all these things, we fail to realize that the real problem is not Islam, the real problem lies with orientalism and the way the West has framed the Islamic religion. We wish to distance ourselves from our oppressor, which is valid. However, critiquing the systems set up by our oppressor is different from demonizing an entire religion.Ā
I noticed anti-Muslim sentiments rise even further amongst the Albanian diaspora after fellow Albanians back home in Kosovo decided to fight alongside the Islamic State. Kosovo made highlights for having āa lot of jihadistsā for such a small country and Albanians in the diaspora were, once again, quick to let the West know that we are āoriginally a Christian country, the jihadists and their families can die! We donāt care about them, we are different!ā
I sense a feeling of superiority coming from Albanian Christians and Albanian atheists like myself.
When the first Syrian refugees started to arrive, much of the Western media was quick to label them as (potential) terrorists. I remember fellow diaspora Albanians writing posts on Facebook, distancing themselves from the Syrian refugees: āWe were real refugees, these are just terrorists ā I would vote for the closure of borders to protect Europe.āĀ
I sense a feeling of superiority coming from Albanian Christians and Albanian atheists like myself. We truly believe that we will be accepted as āone of themā so long as we play along and step on marginalized groups as much as the dominant group ā if not in a more extreme way to prove our loyalty.Ā
I remember my mom telling me: āYou can do anything you like, eat all the pork you want to, but remember that they will never accept you.ā I think back on these words a lot.Ā
Despite being brought up in the Netherlands, and despite the Dutch citizenship being the first and only citizenship my mother, my siblings and I have ever had ā Iām still not accepted as a full member of society, despite all my efforts to fit in. In August Iāll obtain my fourth law degree, and I have volunteered and worked for a number of years during my studies, but I am still not fully accepted.Ā
Over the past 23 years of living in the Netherlands, the native Dutch have not changed their attitude toward me, but my attitude has changed for the better: I no longer feel, nor will I ever feel, better than ā or even superior to ā Albanians, or people in general, who are Muslim and wish to practice their faith.Ā
I no longer feel offended when people assume that Iām Muslim. I no longer feel the need to critique Muslims, or people identifying with any other religious group, for doing something I personally would never do. There is nothing wrong with being critical of a religion, any religion, but to demonize those who wish to practice their faith ā specifically Islam in the Western world ā in an effort to distance yourself from that religion and to fit in, is not OK.Ā
Now, when I tell people I donāt drink alcohol and they say, āOh, yeah, sorry, I should have known, itās because of your religion, right?ā I simply laugh and tell them I didnāt know atheism didnāt allow people to drink.Ā
The Western societies we have grown up in have made us feel not worthy to sit at the table. So by repeating the hateful rhetoric they taught us when anti-Muslim bigotry was normalized, we try to show them that āwe are really not that different, we are European too, and we also want Islam out!ā: Itās a quite pathetic and mostly desperate attempt to get a seat at the table of white supremacy.Ā
We have to remember that all oppression is connected: So long as one group of people is oppressed, we are all oppressed. Even if you are not accepted into the dominant group as an individual because āyouāre different,ā please remember your acceptance and freedom is not worth a lot when your acceptance is due to stepping on and over other marginalized people.Ā
Feature image: Arrita Katona / K2.0.
The silence after having read this piece asks you: Are you unlearning? And are you learning? Heed the silence.