“Emiratis are unapproachable,” I read on one of NYU Abu Dhabi’s Facebook confessions pages. Who knew that in one of the most diverse universities in the world, one would hear a statement that I thought would only be uttered in universities with culturally homogenous populations.
In 2009, I attended an expensive, predominantly white private university in southern Connecticut. As an Asian-American hijabi girl majoring in Computer Science, I stood out among my peers. I was perceived as unapproachable by my classmates, mostly white and male — this was apparent whenever a professor wanted the class to organically form groups. I was almost always the last one to be picked for anyone’s group. Or, I would end up doing an entire group project solo because my fellow classmates slowly backed away from the group.
Additionally, I was not able to buy most of my textbooks due to my family’s financial situation during the 2008 economic recession. I didn’t have a smartphone with camera functionalities either, so after most classes I would chase down whomever I had deemed the friendliest person in the class and scan pages of their textbook at the library for five cents per page. In my Calculus II class, I had depended on a tall, Jewish guy for the pages of the textbook, who would always happily walk the uphill path with me from the classroom to the library.
Unfortunately, in another class that my new acquaintance didn’t attend, the professor assigned homework from pages I didn’t have. Scanning the classroom for the friendliest-looking person to approach that day, I didn’t see many options. The only guy with a textbook was notorious for being openly racist to me, having once cracked a racist joke about me with the professor. The two had laughed while the entire class sat quiet and aghast at what had unfolded in front of them.
Reluctantly, when the class ended, I ran after him. I was intimidated. Picking up the courage, I asked, "Hey, excuse me, can I photocopy your textbook, please?" He paused. He pouted his mouth toward the side, a common facial expression among people in Connecticut for when someone didn’t want to do something. He sighed and agreed; after I handed his book back to him later in the library, and thanked him sincerely, he left without saying a word, still pouting. I didn’t know what I did to receive that treatment. Was it my religion? Was it my hijab? Was it the color of my skin? The worst that could have happened was not receiving the homework materials, but still the incident was extremely intimidating. I didn't think much of it, but the sting of the treatment still lingers in my memory.
It’s 2018. I am attending one of the most diverse universities in the world, but still allegations about Emiratis being unapproachable resonate with me. If it was 2009 again, I would very happily choose an unapproachable-looking person than an openly racist one to borrow their textbook.
In Connecticut, most of my classmates judged me unapproachable enough to force me to do entire semester-long group projects on my own. But, I also judged my classmates based on on how friendly or unapproachable they looked. And although I deemed my openly racist classmate unapproachable, he surprised me by agreeing to let me photocopy his book, remembering to go to the library after class at the promised time and waiting for me to finish copying the pages.
It saddens me that some NYUAD students still judge the approachability of others by their appearance — be it Asian, hijabi or both. In a community as diverse as NYUAD, questions like what person X’s ethnicity is and who their friends are should not prevent social interactions or contribute to harmful group images. Every individual is much more than the stereotypes associated with their religion, ethnicity or culture. Not everyone has access to a community as diverse as NYUAD, and one of the many beautiful things about being in an environment like this is being able to interact with people you otherwise wouldn’t. And sometimes people are judged by their looks, but without actually approaching them, these perceptions are only a delusion.
Noora is a contributing writer. Email her at feedback@thegazelle.org.