Michael Abboud

“How did it go?”

“Fine, Mom.”

“How do you feel about Rose? Do you like her?”

“She’s okay.”

“I just got off the phone with her. I’ve set your individual videotaping with her on Thursday at 12.”

“I don’t need you to make appointments for me.”

“You weren’t going to do it. What’s your deal?”

I grabbed a drink from the refrigerator. “Who taught you that phrase?”

“My university students keep me updated. My TA set up a Twitter account for me. I tried to follow you, but I was blocked.”

I popped the can and took a swig. I forgot how good it was to drink pop straight from the can. “I can’t have my mother follow me on Twitter.”

“Why do you say ‘my mother’ like that, like it’s a curse or something?”

“Nothing personal. It’s the principle of it. You know I love you.”

“I do, but why don’t you like Rose?” she persisted.

“I don’t dislike her.” I set my Coke down. “I don’t have anything against her.”

“But...”

“I don’t understand the whole idea of a race documentary.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“I just think it’s ... unnecessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“How does this help? We go there and talk about our experiences, and we all know that our stories are going to be full of racism and xenophobia because this is ‘Merica.”

“This is why Rose is making the documentary, to shed light on this issue. Awareness is the first step in the fight for equality.”

“We’ve been talking about the -isms and -phobias since forever. It’s 2017. As of today, if you don’t know what’s going on in the modern world, you are part of the problem.”

“So say that in the documentary. Speak for yourself.”

“Who’s listening to me, an Arab boy? They think I’m a terrorist, remember?”

“Times are changing, Michael. People are starting to understand.”

“Nothing has changed. Nothing. I live my life with these people. They’re my teachers, my classmates, my friends. I hear every negative comment they make against people who look like us. I don’t need a documentary or a group meeting to understand that American is as racist as it has always been, and it will probably never change.”

“Michael...”

“You act like I’m not speaking the truth. They see my last name and they want to deport me. They don’t believe that I—as an American—am deserving of the same rights as them. You know I speak the truth. Remember the hateful messages students would email you, or the extra attention we get from TSA when we fly. They don’t want to give me a chance, so why are you asking me to do this for them?”

“You have so much anger inside you.”  

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong because you know I’m right.”

“I just wish you had peace.”

“And I wish no one discriminated against us.”