'I want a knob!' by Kara
Wednesday, September 13, 2006 at 8:25 AM

Y;know, it's an odd occasion when I sit and ponder a rant in the car on the way to work.

This morning, I read the Co-Writer with the Longest Hair's rant about Monday. A lot of people addressed it. I mean, a lot. And I didn't, and I sort of get the impression that there was this sort of silent outcry. 'Why is she not talking about 9/11? I mean, for God's sake, she talked about Robin Williams going into rehab.'

Answer? I couldn't. But I think now I sort of have to, don't I?

Five years ago this time, I hadn't yet taken my medical withdrawal from college. (I would the following semester.) I was still a theatre major, and had a ridiculous class on American drama, which basically consisted of the professor having us read plays showing us how much white people suck. There was so much sociopolitical talk in this class, and I honestly don't like discussing politics, whether people agree with me or not. And this got to me badly. There was talk of recompense for slaves, and I finally raised my hand and said, 'Fine. My family's from the Middle East. If that's how this is gonna go, I want some liquor, a few gold dowry bracelets, and seven camels to make up for the Turks taking away my great-great-grandfather's caravan.'

I said this on September 10th.

The next morning I had a Latin class that I was about to sleep through. My roommate pulled me out of bed and said, 'Kara, you'd better have a look at the news.' As I think everyone said to everyone else. And we were stunned. And then the Pentagon got whacked, and Kris lost it ... because her father worked on that side. We sat by the phone, neither of us bloody went to class, and we finally heard from him. Wonder of wonders, he'd been told that morning that they needed him clear on the other side.

Now, I am not entirely Lebanese. It came down my paternal grandfather's side, and even there, we have some French because the Crusaders came through and slept with our women. Down my paternal grandmother, I've got a strand of WASP. My mother's side, I have no idea -- very little contact, but I know there's some Greek just to toss some Mediterranean genetics back in. But we have a very strong tie to Lebanese culture. Growing up, I remember helping my grandfather make kibbeh on a weekend for a big dinner. His father was an Antiochian Orthodox priest who was working on translating the New Testament back into Aramaic when he died. My great-uncle Ernie taught me to write my name in Arabic when I was little. Our family's actually from a very Christian area of the Middle East (I mean, Syria, for God's sake). On one forum, my weird uncle refers to himself as 'A living insult to Islam since 1957.'

Question of the day: Have you ever been called a killer?

On September 12th, I walked into Phi Beta Kappa Hall, up the stairs, to the left and then to the right. I was a little late. When I opened the door, fifteen people turned and stared at me. One of them was the professor.

'So,' said one of the guys in the front row, 'how does it feel to be from a family of murderers?'

I mean, I knew better. I really did. I knew what had happened. I understood that it was not my fault or my family's fault. I knew that it wasn't even the same group of people or, by a few borders, the same part of the world. Even my grandfather ground it into me, days later, that this was not our family, this was not our faith, this was not our ancestry that did this to our country. But do you think I sat down and went through class? I turned around very calmly, walked out, went to the downstairs bathroom/changing room down the hall from the theatre, and cried. And I went home. And I went, God, what now?

I'd been so frightened, for Kris's dad and for so many other people. Family in D.C., family in New York, even for the campus ... because we flattered ourself thinking we were important enough to be next on the hit list. And to be looked at with that much hate and that much stupidity ... from people who, two days ago, had been sympathizing with my horrible camel-deprived plight when I'd just been trying to show them how dumb they were being ...

I mean, I still know better. Even with Lebanon all over the news now, I still know better. I know that it is not my fault. I know that my family is not a family of murderers. I know that anyone who draws that connection doesn't know their geography or history worth a damn. I don't even look it, so ever since that day I haven't really gotten much -- my grandmother's WASPiness won out, and any Middle Eastern in me manifests in my inordinate fascination with the Apocrypha and my taste for raw lamb in pita bread.

No, I haven't forgotten. I work for a news site. I sit in front of a UPI news feed five days a week and watch things come in. I know every memorial, every ceremony, and who attended each at what times of day. I have friends who did special comics, but I just couldn't. I've joked about my family, because as stupid as it seems, my way of coping with just about anything is to start making good-natured jokes at my own expense. And when something pisses me off, I get vindictive. I've been vindictive for five years.

The past couple of days mark the first real crying I've done since the day of, if only because this is what I've been thinking about. And I know, I know people are going to say that I'm lucky because other people have gotten worse. And this is true. And actually, that's why it hurts. That, as disconnected as I truly am, people could still muster up that much hate. And I wonder what people think of my grandfather and my other relatives who don't have any WASP mixed up in them, and who teach little girls in their family to write their names in Arabic.

No, no. Believe me, I remember. Believe me, it still gets to me. Believe me, I'm behind troops, cops, firefighters, all of that. But every time someone says 'never forget,' unfortunately, it means something else to me ... something else that takes away horrendously from the true meaning of the situation, and something no one should ever, ever have to hear.

Sorry to pull down what I think is rather a clever page. If you have been, good night.