Badeen

Being a "brown" kid at school wasn't smooth. At that time all brown people were considered Pakies, so I was a Paki too. The term seems light now, I think it has lost most of it's meaning as ethnicities became more defined. I would often argue that I wasn't a Paki, I was Egyptian. It didn't matter, the term just meant miscellaneous brown sub-person who was not one of us and smelled really bad maybe like curry. Curry now a widely accepted delicious main staple of ethnic cuisine, back then was a disgusting brown person smell.  They wouldn't even bother differentiate between us brown people, we were all the same in their eyes, even if we didn't eat curry.

At my Ottawa public elementary school I was interested in playing with blue eyed Tim, green eyed Eric, red haired Chris, and black David. I only played with Black David who was a great kid. I wonder where he is now and if he remembers me. We had many adventures together. They all lived in my neighborhood. Tim, Eric, Chris, and some other older kids decided they would beat up the Paki every day after school. It was sport and I was the hunted. I would get off the school bus and start running home as fast as I could, they would catch me and beat me up in the slushy snow. I was too embarrassed to ever tell my family. They figured my clothes were dirty from being rambunctious at school. This went on daily for what seemed to be forever. Some days, I would hide under the school bus bench seats and without them noticing I would get off the bus at the wrong stop, and make it safely home. One winter day, they had me pinned down on the ground kicking and punching me, when a Palestinian kid my age named Badeen came out of nowhere, picked up a big block of ice and smashed it over Chris' head. Chris was almost knocked out and fell to the ground, the other kids beating me turned their attention to helping him. His pain mattered so much more to them than mine. He was one of them, I wasn't. Badeen and I ran away. In Arab solidarity Badeen felt empathy for me. I was surprised he helped me and took that risk, we were outnumbered, but I was so grateful. I understood by his action that we were ethnically related and should stand together. It was a nice feeling to be part of a group even if it was just the two of us. That was the last day they beat me, they never chased me again.

Not all abuse was bad. There were these two girls a grade ahead of me that would chase me every day at recess and try to grab my penis. I loved it and found both the chase and outcome thrilling. My little body would get an erection. They eventually noticed my erection and determined I liked the game which was not the intended purpose, so they stopped chasing me. That was disappointing.

Some of it was heart breaking. A kid in the neighborhood invited me and a bunch of other kids to his house to watch Rocky IV. I was so happy to be included and excited to watch a cutting edge blockbuster that was recently released. The red colour of the Russian flag used in the movie seemed like the deepest red I had ever seen. We were met at the front door by his mother, she let everyone in except for me. Her son understood what was happening and proceeded to plead with her on my behalf. I stood there as he innocently explained I was no different from the rest of the kids. Still, she refused.  She didn't want her son befriending a Paki. It worked, I went home and never played with that kid again. More than ever, I understood I had a handicap. I was brown.