The reality of a Trump-elected America has traumatized me

Thursday, November 10th, will always stand out as one unforgettable, painfully memorable, life-changing day in my life. This was the day that I was compelled to come to terms with the undeniably horrifying turn reality has taken. This was the day that my unwavering love and adoration for the city I have always called home, let me down. This was the day I was broken down, verbally abused, emotionally shattered, and traumatized in my first hate crime.
On several occasions in my life, I have found myself distraught, utterly agonized by the terrors that exist in this world that we live in, but never could I imagine that one of the most defining aspects of my identity would cause me to be so susceptible to the hatred, agonizing humiliation and terror of other human beings. I never anticipated becoming a victim simply for the symbolizing and beautiful cloth I wrap around my head. 
That morning I woke up, as I always do on Thursday mornings, crawled out of bed and tried to shake the sleepiness off in preparation to go to my internship at The New Press. It was less than 48 hours since the election, and to be quite honest, the results had not yet sunk in.
I had not been able to swallow the horrid reality of our nation, the lack of humanity that existed among the supposedly unified people of America. I was still in shock. 
I left my house and got on the Q43 bus around the same time as I always do, awaiting the long 2 hour commute it takes me every morning to get to my internship. I took a seat in the mid-section of the bus, exhausted, and was occupying myself on my phone. Ten minutes into the bus ride, a white middle-aged couple got on the bus and stood near me. The woman began to shout at me telling me that I was not allowed to wear my hijab anymore and I needed to take it off. 
“Take it off. Take it ****ing off now. You are not allowed to wear that anymore.” 
She shouted and yelled at me consistently, not giving herself even a second to stop and take a breath. 
My eyes began brimming with tears and my body fell into panic mode. The physiological responses of anxiety began to overcome me, and I felt my heart rate pick up intensely. I was struggling to breathe properly and was crying. I remember trying to somehow mentally take myself out of the situation, but I was failing terribly. The man began shouting at me to listen to the woman.
The entire time, not a single word escaped me, just incessant sobs and bawling. There were about ten other people in total on the bus, and behind me a man began to yell from his seat at the couple. 
“Come on, leave her alone. Just leave her alone,” He yelled from his seat. A few others on the bus chimed in as this couple kept yelling at me. Then, they began to yell back at the other passengers, urging them to mind their own business and stay out of it. Arguments broke out between this couple and the passengers as I sat there bawling, frightened for my life, panicking. 
As the arguments continued, the woman got extremely angered, especially as she saw others trying to tell her to stop, and she came towards me and tried to pull off my hijab. My body finally caught up to a fight-or-flight point, recovered from the anxiety, and I got myself up and off of the bus. I walked my way back home, crying in the entire walk, defeated. 
A few days later, I stand as a woman who is not hesitating for even a moment to tell her story. I need everyone to swallow the harsh, cold, terrifying reality of this post-election world. I need everyone to come to terms with the fact that even in the beautiful, vibrant streets of New York City, hatred seeps through the sidewalk cracks. Terror travels with the wind of our city, and we are all susceptible to it. 
I have been asked when interviewing with reporters these past few days, one question that a lot of people are afraid to ask whereas others do not need to because they know the answer all too well, and it is this: 
Was my attempted assault and hate-crime instigated and/or related to the election of Donald Trump? Was my anguish induced by a post-election world where bigots are on the rise 
and minorities are at an all-time high risk?
The answer lies in the wounds that have been forming not only in my own heart, but in the hearts of every single individual in this nation that has been trying to wrap their head around a humanity-less population that is our nation. 
I dare someone to tell me that this is simply a coincidental event. I dare someone to tell me that the route that I have taken for so many years without a single incident happened to contain a couple of violent, hateful bigots simply because of bad luck. 
He did this to me, he did this to each and every minority group that I have been holding in my prayers. He unleashed the monster that has been living inside of the hate-filled chests of many Americans. 
As I struggle between my emotions of outrage and agony, I cannot help but urge each and everyone to start taking a stand. 
To not settle for hope, but to be a part of the change that is so necessary in our world right now. 
We need to begin taking steps for our future in this nation because there are way too many people trying to strip us from a future at all. 
    
    Odyssey

The writer is a student at Hunter College, New York, USA

 

The reality of a Trump-elected America has traumatized me

Thursday, November 10th, will always stand out as one unforgettable, painfully memorable, life-changing day in my life. This was the day that I was compelled to come to terms with the undeniably horrifying turn reality has taken. This was the day that my unwavering love and adoration for the city I have always called home, let me down. This was the day I was broken down, verbally abused, emotionally shattered, and traumatized in my first hate crime. On several occasions in my life, I have found myself distraught, utterly agonized by the terrors that exist in this world that we live in, but never could I imagine that one of the most defining aspects of my identity would cause me to be so susceptible to the hatred, agonizing humiliation and terror of other human beings. I never anticipated becoming a victim simply for the symbolizing and beautiful cloth I wrap around my head. That morning I woke up, as I always do on Thursday mornings, crawled out of bed and tried to shake the sleepiness off in preparation to go to my internship at The New Press. It was less than 48 hours since the election, and to be quite honest, the results had not yet sunk in. I had not been able to swallow the horrid reality of our nation, the lack of humanity that existed among the supposedly unified people of America. I was still in shock. I left my house and got on the Q43 bus around the same time as I always do, awaiting the long 2 hour commute it takes me every morning to get to my internship. I took a seat in the mid-section of the bus, exhausted, and was occupying myself on my phone. Ten minutes into the bus ride, a white middle-aged couple got on the bus and stood near me. The woman began to shout at me telling me that I was not allowed to wear my hijab anymore and I needed to take it off. Take it off. Take it ****ing off now. You are not allowed to wear that anymore. She shouted and yelled at me consistently, not giving herself even a second to stop and take a breath. My eyes began brimming with tears and my body fell into panic mode. The physiological responses of anxiety began to overcome me, and I felt my heart rate pick up intensely. I was struggling to breathe properly and was crying. I remember trying to somehow mentally take myself out of the situation, but I was failing terribly. The man began shouting at me to listen to the woman. The entire time, not a single word escaped me, just incessant sobs and bawling. There were about ten other people in total on the bus, and behind me a man began to yell from his seat at the couple. Come on, leave her alone. Just leave her alone, He yelled from his seat. A few others on the bus chimed in as this couple kept yelling at me. Then, they began to yell back at the other passengers, urging them to mind their own business and stay out of it. Arguments broke out between this couple and the passengers as I sat there bawling, frightened for my life, panicking. As the arguments continued, the woman got extremely angered, especially as she saw others trying to tell her to stop, and she came towards me and tried to pull off my hijab. My body finally caught up to a fight-or-flight point, recovered from the anxiety, and I got myself up and off of the bus. I walked my way back home, crying in the entire walk, defeated. A few days later, I stand as a woman who is not hesitating for even a moment to tell her story. I need everyone to swallow the harsh, cold, terrifying reality of this post-election world. I need everyone to come to terms with the fact that even in the beautiful, vibrant streets of New York City, hatred seeps through the sidewalk cracks. Terror travels with the wind of our city, and we are all susceptible to it. I have been asked when interviewing with reporters these past few days, one question that a lot of people are afraid to ask whereas others do not need to because they know the answer all too well, and it is this: Was my attempted assault and hate-crime instigated and/or related to the election of Donald Trump? Was my anguish induced by a post-election world where bigots are on the rise and minorities are at an all-time high risk? The answer lies in the wounds that have been forming not only in my own heart, but in the hearts of every single individual in this nation that has been trying to wrap their head around a humanity-less population that is our nation. I dare someone to tell me that this is simply a coincidental event. I dare someone to tell me that the route that I have taken for so many years without a single incident happened to contain a couple of violent, hateful bigots simply because of bad luck. He did this to me, he did this to each and every minority group that I have been holding in my prayers. He unleashed the monster that has been living inside of the hate-filled chests of many Americans. As I struggle between my emotions of outrage and agony, I cannot help but urge each and everyone to start taking a stand. To not settle for hope, but to be a part of the change that is so necessary in our world right now. We need to begin taking steps for our future in this nation because there are way too many people trying to strip us from a future at all. Odyssey The writer is a student at Hunter College, New York, USA