My name is Ela

I went to the mall, and a little girl
called me a terrorist.
My name is Ela. I am seventeen years
old. I am not Muslim, but my friend
told me about her friend being

discriminated against for wearing a
hijab. So I decided to see the discr
imination firsthand to get a better
understanding of what Muslim women
go through.
My friend and I pinned scarves around
our heads, and then we went to the
mall. Normally, vendors try to get us
to buy things and ask us to sample a
snack. Clerks usually ask us if we need
help, tell us about sales, and smile at
us. Not today. People, including
vendors, clerks, and other shoppers,
wouldn't look at us. They didn't talk to
us. They acted like we didn’t exist.
They didn't want to be caught staring
at us, so they didn't look at all.
And then, in one store, a girl (who
looked about four years old) asked
her mom if my friend and I were
terrorists. She wasn't trying to be mean
or anything. I don’t even think she
could have grasped the idea of
prejudice. However, her mother’s
response is one I can never forgive or
forget. The mother hushed her child,
glared at me, and then took her
daughter by the hand and led her out
of the store.
All that because I put a scarf on my
head. Just like that, a mother taught
her little girl that being Muslim was
evil. It didn't matter that I was a nice
person. All that mattered was that I
looked different. That little girl may
grow up and teach her children the
same thing.
This experiment gave me a huge wake-
up call. It lasted for only a few hours,
so I can’t even begin to imagine how
much prejudice Muslim girls go
through every day. It reminded me of
something that many people know but
rarely remember: the women in hijabs
are people, just like all those women
out there who aren't Muslim."