Guest Author
By Ayuzah Shah
I woke up Sunday morning, ready for my usual volunteering shift at the Novant Hospital. As I checked my phone first thing in the morning, I immediately noticed a flood of notifications — everyone posted that it was Easter Sunday.
“Oh wow, the last 10 holy nights of Ramadan and Easter Weekend are happening at the same time,” I thought.
As I got ready and headed to the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about the countless discussions I’ve had in school about America being a melting pot. The idea of people from different faiths and backgrounds coming together on a day like this felt hopeful and uplifting. It reminded me that being an American is truly a gift, living in a country where diversity is not only present but often celebrated.
When I entered the cool building, I was greeted by a wave of Easter decorations — sparkly eggs, Easter bunnies, and small pictures of Jesus adorned the walls. I headed up to the geriatric department’s usual location on the 9th floor. Time flew by as I made rounds on patients, asking if they needed anything, cleaning beds, and refilling ice jugs. However, all the walking around and running errands for patients while I was fasting left my legs feeling quite tired. As I approached the final hallway, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Finally, the last stretch,” I thought to myself.
I continued my usual workflow, sanitizing my hands and knocking twice on the door of room 9431 before slowly maneuvering my cart inside. The moment I stepped into the elderly woman’s room, she began to wail at top volume.
“Ahhhhh, my remote, give it to me!” she screamed.
I took a deep breath before addressing her. We had gone over how to handle aggressive dementia patients during orientation a few weeks earlier.
“Oh, ma’am, is this the remote you need?” I asked, gesturing towards the white TV remote on the floor.
“Yes, please hand it to me, sweetheart,” she moaned desperately.
I felt sympathy for her state of mind, so I quickly picked up the remote and began to refill her ice jug just as the RN had instructed me that morning. As soon as my hands touched the ice-cold Ziploc bag, she asked me a question.
“Why in the world do you have that thing on your head?” she asked, looking repulsed. I knew she was referring to my hijab. I had a prepared explanation ready, as I was accustomed to questions about it. However, in the middle of my explanation, a scowl appeared on her face.
“Oh shoot!” I thought, realizing I had forgotten she was a dementia patient and had trouble understanding complex matters.
I tried my best to explain it to her in simple terms, thinking that she was just struggling to understand me. Halfway through the second explanation, I fell back onto the freezing, hard hospital floor.
I was in shock.
“What just happened? Did she actually just do that?” I thought as I came to terms with the fact that this old lady just tried to rip my hijab off.
I attempted to handle the situation by genuinely seeing her side of the story. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, during the month of Ramadan, I am constantly reminded to be forgiving.
“Ma- Ma’am, are you alright?” I stuttered nervously.
“NO! I’m not alright with people like you ruining America. All you people do is make everyone around you uncomfortable, and I hope you know that no one actually appreciates anything you do with that towel on your head. You are ruining my life and everyone else’s. YOU WILL NEVER BELONG HERE,” she yelled in an unforgettable tone.
I could feel my face burn up. Tears swelled in my eyes as her words echoed through my head. But no, I couldn’t cry in front of her. That would prove that she was right. This was the moment my melting pot shattered. The shiny steel pot in my head fell off the stove, and its contents spilled to the ground, mirroring my broken sense of belonging.
For the first time, I questioned the ideal of America as a land of acceptance and unity. Instead of feeling proud of our nation’s diversity, I felt ashamed. Patient 9431’s harsh perception of my presence made me feel like I didn’t belong. This moment, marked by anger and prejudice, left me grappling with a sense of disconnection from the very ideals I had once embraced. If I met her again today, the elderly woman probably wouldn’t recognize me or remember that this had happened. But for me, she broke the melting pot that I was once proud of.
Ayuzah Shah is a high school student at the Early College at Guilford and originally from Pakistan, with a passion for writing. She hopes to pursue a career in the medical field and enjoys exploring South Asian culture through her work. Contact: [email protected]
