So at a public park in Southern California, a little boy
came and took my son’s toy truck. My son didn’t mind sharing at all. In fact, he was excited to play with someone. I told the Hispanic mother, who seemed upset with her child, that it was
fine. I answered her in Spanish, so she approached me and asked me where I was
from. I simply told her I’m Lebanese. She grimaced to a point where her whole
face changed, and she sighed. It took her a minute to say: well, you don’t look
Lebanese so maybe it is better not to tell people that you’re from Lebanon.
Had this happened a few months ago, I would have just nodded
and perhaps agreed with her silently. Before I left, I'd felt as if I was
shrinking myself to fit in a place I have outgrown. I was constantly
complaining about everything from traffic, to chaos down to every little
detail. I could not wait for the moment I was out of there.
However, with all that is going on in my country for the
past month, I could not have been prouder of my nationality and my homeland. I
am so honored to belong to this country. I did not know I have this much
patriotism running in my blood.
I could not be even prouder to be the daughter of Tripoli,
the concrete Cinderella. Tripoli never had the chance to wear her gown, go to
the ball and meet her prince charming. Tripoli was always exhausted and
drained. Now Tripoli has sewn and worn its prettiest dress and has shown the
world her true beauty. Tripoli is a princess, if not a queen.
Right this instant, I would trade everything to walk down
Tripoli’s streets, eat its kaake, smell my mom’s cooking, hear my dad’s voice
in prayer and talk to my sister and brother. Right this instant, I would trade
everything to be there. I am not physically in my city for the time being, but I
will always be there mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
From that day forward, I knew that I should raise my chin
high when saying I am Lebanese. My people are making history!
Photo Credits: Omar El-Imady
