Sometimes he’ll tell me about his college days, about an Afghanistan I have never known and very few people would believe ever existed.
"In the College of Engineering, there was this lecture hall, with seats for 1,000 students," his says as eyes begin to get bigger. "At the end of the lecture, the seats would move. The whole auditorium would shift as you spun along the diameter. The engineering of the building itself was very interesting." He continues to describe the construction details, then sighs. "I wonder if it’s still around?"
There is a pause. For 25 years I have tried to fill that silence, but I have never quite figured out what to say. I guess silence goes best there. He is the next one to speak. “You see, even your old-aged father was once part of something important.”
When he says things like that I want to scream. I don’t want to believe that the years can beat away at you like that. I don’t want to know that if enough time passes, you begin to question what was real or who you are. I am unconcerned with what the world thinks of him, but it is devastating to know that he at times thinks less of himself.
We are the same, but we are separated. People don’t see him in me. I wish they would. I walk in with a doctor’s white coat or a suit or my Berkeley sweatshirt and jeans. High heels or sneakers, it doesn’t matter, people always seem impressed with me. “Pediatrician, eh?” they say. “Well, good for you.”
I wonder what people see when they look at him. They don’t see what I see in his smile. Perhaps they see a brown man with a thick accent; perhaps they think, another immigrant cabdriver. Or perhaps it is much worse: Maybe he is a profile-matched terrorist, aligned with some axis of evil. “Another Abd-ool f——-g foreigner,” I once heard someone say.
Sometimes the worst things are not what people say to your face or what they say at all, it is the things that are assumed. I am in line at the grocery store, studying at a cafe, on a plane flying somewhere.
"Her English is excellent; she must have grown up here," I hear a lady whisper. "But why on earth does she wear that thing on her head?"
"Oh, that’s not her fault," someone replies. "Her father probably forces her to wear that."
I am still searching for a quick, biting response to comments like that. The trouble is that things I’d like to say aren’t quick. So I say nothing. I want to take their hands and pull them home with me. Come, meet my father. Don’t look at the wrinkles; don’t look at the scars; don’t mind the hearing aid, or the thick accent. Don’t look at the world’s effect on him; look at his effect on the world. Come into my childhood and hear the lullabies, the warm hand on your shoulder on the worst of days, the silly jokes on mundane afternoons. Come meet the woman he has loved and respected his whole life; witness the confidence he has nurtured in his three daughters. Stay the night; hear his footsteps come in at midnight after a long day’s work. That sound in the middle of the night is his head bowing in prayer although he is exhausted. Granted, the wealth is gone and the legacy unknown, but look at what the bombs did not destroy. Now tell me, am I really oppressed? The question makes me want to laugh. Now tell me, is he really the oppressor? The question makes me want to cry.
At times, I want to throw it all away: the education, the opportunities, the potential. I want to slip into the passenger seat of his cab and say: This is who I am. If he is going to be labeled, then give me those labels too. If you are going to look down on him, than you might as well peer down on me as well. Close this gap. Erase this line. There is no differentiation here. Of all the things I am, of all the things I could ever be, I will never be prouder than to say that I am of him.
I am this cabdriver’s daughter.
- Posted:20 hours ago
Tony Hansberry II was a ninth-grader. The new sewing technique he has developed helps to to reduce the risk of complications and simplifies the hysterectomy procedure for less seasoned surgeons.
His goal is to attend medical school and become a neurosurgeon. For Tony, it all began in school. He attends Darnell-Cookman School of the Medical Arts, a medical magnet school for middle and high schoolstudents. As part of its integrated medical curriculum, students receive medical instruction, but are also exposed to medical professionals who demonstrate advanced surgical techniques with specialized equipment. His lead medical teacher, Angela TenBroeck, told the Florida Times-Union that Hansberry is a typical student, but is way ahead of his classmates when it comes to surgical skills “I would put him up against a first year medical student. He is an outstanding young man,” she said.
During his summer break, Tony volunteered at the University of Florida’s Center for Simulation Education and Safety Research (CSESaR) at Shands Jacksonville Hospital. He was supervised by Dr. Brent Siebel, a urogynecologist, and Bruce Nappi, the administrative director. Together they worked with Tony exploring the mannequins and simulation equipment that physicians and nurses use in training. He became quite interested in invasive surgery and using laparoscopic instruments. As the story goes, one day an obstetrics and gynecology professor asked the group to help him figure out why no one was using a particular surgical device, called an endostitch for hysterectomy suturing procedures. This long medical device has clamps on the end, but Tony used the instrument in a new way allowing for vertical suturing, instead of the traditional horizontal method. After two days, Tony had perfected and tested his new technique. He soon developed a science fair project comparing the suturing times of the vertical endostitch closures vs the horizontal closures using a conventional needle driver instrument.
His results showed he was able to stitch three times faster using this new method. Use of this inventive technique may lead to shorter surgical times and improved patient treatment.
Found on http://www.oshpd.ca.gov/through
- Posted:20 hours ago
Break Free! Kaneki!
I loved the series, fight scene was killer!
- Posted:20 hours ago
she wears short skirts i wear a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eyeshadow.
she’s cheer captain and i’m ebony dark’ness dementia raven way
- Posted:20 hours ago