Dear Ladies in the Booth Behind Us,
I know you are just here with your friend to share an ice cream cone, but I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you’ve having. I know there’s a lot of information that bombards you all day long, and I’ll be the first to admit that the Fox News channel the restaurant has on doesn’t provide the best “balance” of opinion. But, I still couldn’t help but cringe when I heard your comments.
Those people, “over there“, those “Moooozlems” that are “hell-bent on Sharia…”
Well, you’ve already got the story wrong.
Your friend spoke up and said “Sharia?” to which you respond, “you know they don’t give the women any rights, those poor women.”
“That’s why they’re protesting, they hate us, they hate us because they want to be like us.”
“They do, they want what we have, but right now it’s all about Sharia. That’s why they want to get rid of this guy, they want the sharia. You know I just don’t get them.”
I’m ashamed I didn’t come sit down next to you. To shake your hand and introduce yourself. It might have been the only chance you had in this small Midwestern town to meet real “Moozlems.” To see that we don’t really hate you. But, I stood there frozen, wishing and praying that the moment would pass, praying that my sons didn’t hear you.
As you got up to go on with your day, you smiled at my son, and complimented me on your way out the door on how well my boys behaved and how adorable they were.
But did you know that one day they would be them?
Did you see that we’re a family just like yours? That we love this country, and we don’t want to “be like them,” because we are like you – just like you. We might pray different, and lead a different lifestyle, but fundamentally we’re the same. Today we’ll wave an American flag at a parade, and we’ll watch fireworks go off – celebrating America’s birthday.
Not because we want to be like you – but because we are like you.
I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry that I missed the one opportunity to help you see that, to help you understand. I’m even more sorry that my boys had to hear the disgust in your voice.
So lady in the booth behind me, the next time I happen to hear a conversation like this I promise to speak up.
The “Moozlem” Lady in the Booth Behind You
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