Our Words

When you decide to wear the veil, you have to brace yourself for Islamaphobic reactions because you know the situation in France, especially after the January [Charlie Hebdo] attacks. But since the November 13 attacks, I’m faced with people staring, whispering, criticizing… every day. I’m sure I’ll be interrogated at some point, and maybe even verbally or physically assaulted. It already happened to me in January, just like it does to other Muslim women who wear the veil.

The people who look at me suspiciously are simply afraid and anxious, and even if it’s hard to know I’m having this effect on them, I understand. We’re all in a panic and we’re all afraid of everything! I’m afraid of reprisals and they’re afraid of me. But they don’t know that they make me afraid by acting this way. I sometimes want to scream that I have have nothing to do with this, that I’m powerless in this situation. So I try to look happy to show them that I only want peace. My only weapon is my smile. I don’t condone these barbaric and unconscionable acts. Islam is a religion of peace. Suicide and murder are forbidden and are serious sins. God gives and takes life. Not man.

I wish people would stop lumping us [Muslims and extremists] together. I am a French citizen, born in France! It’s this diversity that makes France strong and beautiful. There’s strength in unity, not division. We many not be brothers and sisters in religion, but we are brothers and sisters in humanity.
– Fedoua Ouerdani

I thought about God. Something I hadn’t done in a long time. I wanted to pray but somehow it didn’t feel genuine. The last time I prayed was at my wedding, thirteen years ago. But I felt I needed something—something to hold onto. And I realized what I needed was hope. Hope in humanity. Hope that this madness stops. At that moment, I understood something about religion. It’s not about believing in a superior being, or rules to live your life by. It’s about not letting the darker part of our human nature prevail. Of finding a way to peace.
– Caroline C. Aoustin

I was in Switzerland this weekend in a bucolic, lazy, sweet-as-sugar town. I felt so safe. Part of me didn’t want to return home to Paris. Part of me wanted to cower in the shadows of the farmhouses. We explained what had happened to my six-year-old son and he was confused. A young boy glorifies war and soldiers and spies. I fight so hard to teach him that war is an evil and horrible fact and should not be emulated at home. It is not a game. People’s lives are not to be played with. He is empathetic and kind so he understands; even so, eruptions of “bang bang” are often heard in his room. Once he understood what had happened, his first question was, “Were there any mamas who died?” I suppose for any child, this is the greatest tragedy because it is ultimately a mama who gives life, protects her babies, as well as others. It was heartbreaking to see his face crumble when I told him that yes, mamas and papas perished on Friday night.
– Dominica Drazal

I just kind of want to hide. I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to face people, and I don’t want to take the metro… I guess I’m living in fear for the moment.
– Jodie Hutchins, Jodie in Paris

Many friends and acquaintances were in some of these places and they were all lucky to survive. Over the weekend, I kept my eyes on the Internet and my ears on the radio. I saw some messages of hate, of fear, sometimes I read stupidities… and I got upset at how the media and television are amplifying this anxiety. But overall, I read messages full of humanity, dignity, hope. Strong people looking for a greater future. I love my city, I love my country and I am so proud of seeing great solidarity. It’s important to try to understand why this happened and why it was possible in our country. We need to have solidarity as a nation and help the people who feel left out to join a greater social nation. This will happen through the education of our small ones. I talked for a long time with my stepmother who is a teacher for kids in CP [first grade], and she told me that she did her best as a teacher of the Republic.
– Sophie Rainbow

The trauma of war haunts us for generations and generations. I feel strongly that empowering the women, the mothers, the daughters, the sisters in the poorest regions where ISIS and other fanatical militants are gaining rapid momentum is the only way to break this horrific cycle. We must educate ALL children and we must enforce that education on girls who will become mothers in these regions. Until all women are educated and empowered, real change will not happen. As long as women are silenced, hate will breed killers. I think of the mothers in Paris. Especially the mothers who are far from their own places of birth—as you help your children get dressed for school, comb their hair, button their jackets, pack their snacks, wondering and fearing what could and what may and what did happen… yet keeping calm and breathing deeply, squeezing little hands a little tighter, because this is the city where you live and because this is home.
– Anna S. Park

Since the attacks I’ve been trying to understand what is normal. Normal used to be walking down the street without endlessly scanning my field of view for something or someone suspicious. It used to be worrying about my children’s day-to-day activities and not whether they might be killed in the next attack. My new normal is living under constant threat. Although I admire those who did, I did not flip terrorists the bird and go out on Saturday or Sunday. I support and respect the sentiment behind #memepaspeur, but I was not without fear. I couldn’t even fake it. The truth is I felt a tremendous amount of fear. Some of it was whether the attacks would continue this weekend, but even greater, the fear of what happens next. A year ago, in a difficult yoga posture, my mind screaming to give up and release the pose, my instructor said, “This one isn’t about your strength or flexibility, it’s about remaining calm in a difficult situation.” I held the pose then. I cling to this advice now. Making an effort to remain equanimous in the face of these fears, allowing them to slowly disappear a little at a time.
– Tamara Corasaniti

Around me, we are all shocked and deeply sad. It is a generation, touched and bruised. I feel scared and I want to keep faith in Peace and in a better world. I don’t believe in war. I believe in Love.
– Gabrielle Lefevre

I’ve been sad and afraid. Stress-eating and stress-shopping. In the park with my kids, I survey the perimeter and make sure we’re not within a line of fire—like some mom Jason Bourne. Today, though, I got angry. I got angry because every Muslim man I know in my neighborhood, after we exchanged our usual pleasantries as we have for the past three years, felt the need to explain to me, “I’m Muslim, but we’re not these people. We’re not with them.” These are men I’ve entrusted with the keys to my home and my car, who help me with my heavy bags and make my kids laugh. Yet they felt they had to reassure me that they were good, decent people. So yeah, now I’m fucking angry. So angry I could cry.
– Maggie Kim

The blame of this goes to fanatics and not religious ones. The people encouraging these women and men to kill others are not doing it in the name of religion. They are doing it in the name of hate. France has a lot of issues in terms of immigration and integration. This is definitely part of the problem for people of African or Arab decent. It’s unfair that no one would ever stop me in the street because of the way I look, but they would stop my boyfriend (who was born in Paris to a Moroccan father and a French and Italian-Gypsy mother). France, however, is not the only country with this issue. It is a worldwide problem. I don’t know how we will find peace but the most important thing is to stay positive and support and accept others, regardless of race or religion. I will not leave France as it is my home.
– Gail Boisclair, Perfectly Paris

My fear is what comes next for our society in Paris, France and even Europe.  Of course we are all jittery about the prospect of more bloodshed. Yes, our lives will become more restricted on a daily basis, with heavy security and no school outings for our children.  But it is the tension beneath the surface in France that scares me. The anti-Muslim sentiment and anti-Semitism that could bubble up. ISIL wants Muslims to become uncomfortable in Europe so they will turn to extremism. I fear ISIL could achieve this alienation for the Muslim population. France is so tense it could turn to its own extremes in retaliation. The potential loss of our liberal embrace of other cultures scares me more than the thought of another attack or increased security checks.
– Jennifer Hamerman

I am shocked. I am French, I am a mother, I am a Jew and I am shocked. I am angry. I am angry at fanatics who kill innocent people everywhere in the name of a God who never asked for hate. I’m angry at my neighbors who didn’t feel concern when Myriam Monsonego was executed in her schoolyard. Who were “Charlie” but quickly forgot because they don’t work at a magazine. Who never had to shop in a kosher supermarket. But now that your cousin lives next to Le Petit Cambodge, that you were at Le Bataclan last month, that you love walking down the Rue de Charonne, now you care?!

More than anything I am sad. I am sad for those innocent lives taken away by terrorists who the Agence France Presse has renamed “militants.” I am sad because our country has been under red alert for 10 months but our government wasn’t able to prevent this tragedy. I am sad because I don’t see an end to the craziness. I don’t see a reasonable resolution to this conflict. I am sad because my kids will be afraid to go to a concert, because my son’s friend went to sleep crying yesterday and because my baby wants a plastic gun.

In a few days, I will let go of my petrifying fear. I will let go of my anger. I might always be sad, but I will go to the Rue des Rosiers and eat a falafel, I will purchase tickets for the next Prince concert and I will dance and drink and wear whatever I want, whenever I want with whomever I want. Because I am French, because I am Free.
– Alexandra Guitelmann