“Allaa, I need you to send this Western Union to my cousin Mohammad in Damascus” my father asked through worried eyes.
I watch him weakly pace the living room with a furrowed brow, troubled by how little he can do to help his family. I know this is his way of trying to make it right and of feeling better about sitting idly while his mother’s home is torn apart by war and hate.
For those who may not know, Damascus is a city in Syria, one of the countries affected by the ineffective travel ban put back in place Thursday. It was beautiful and lively, until a new president took power and allowed the country to crumble.
Unfortunately, some of my family stands amid this crossfire.
My grandmother was lucky enough to leave Syria well before the tyranny began to give my father and his siblings a life free from war.
My mother’s family was also lucky. My noble grandfather rescued his wife and seven children from Palestine shortly after its occupation.
My parents were lucky enough to grow up in Jordan and immigrate to this country.
And I was lucky enough to be born and raised in America.
But not everyone is as lucky as my family or me. Many Palestinians still live in cities where simply leaving their homes can be fatal. Many Syrians, including my father’s cousin, live in broken neighborhoods where clean water is considered a luxury and not a necessity.
Luck will always be random. Never forget that.
While your privilege warrants you the ability to sit and read this article, across the ocean people sit with no electricity, food or shelter from war.
Yet our president believes Americans are the ones who need protection. He supports banning people from entering a country based on the irrational behavior of a select few.
The revised travel ban will not save this country from terrorism, for terrorism knows no religion or nationality. It can be anyone, even someone born and raised within these borders.
This ban will mostly aid in preventing innocent civilians from a chance at freedom. It may save a few lives, but undoubtedly ruin hundreds.
It scares me to think that without luck, it could be me without electricity. That instead of writing this article, I could be barred from the most basic human necessities. Or worse, that one of the most powerful nations in this world would be banning me from seeking refuge within its borders.
But what good is my opinion on this matter, anyways? After all, aren’t I just the daughter of two Muslim immigrants?
Allaa Tayeb is a sophomore majoring in English and film studies.