Last week, Yasmin Nouh joined four other young people on the Patt Morrison Show to talk about growing up Muslim in the decade following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Here she expands on that interview, sharing her perspective in a first-person essay.
Yasmin, whose parents are immigrants from Egypt and Iran, was barely in her teens when she heard the devastating news of what had occurred in New York that morning. She writes about what followed and how, as she experienced it, helped shape who she would become.
My eyes, still heavy with sleep, lit up wide open when my father told us the spine-chilling news as he drove us to school in the morning: Two planes turned missile had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City. At 13 years old, I barely understood the gravity of the terrorist attacks. When I asked who the hijackers were, he said the United States had identified Osama bin Laden as a likely suspect.
“This is going to be a hard time for Muslims,” my father said.
His words puzzled me. Why would this be a hard time for Muslims?
The magnitude of terror that followed would not hit me at once. My school decided to close for the day. My younger sister came back home as well. She attended a private, Islamic elementary school at the time. The school shut down for the rest of the week, out of fear of a bomb threat.
When we returned home from school, I turned on the television. The terrifying images reverberated on the screen, and in my mind when I would turn my eyes away.
But one particular series of images, displayed on various mainstream news stations, angered me. It showed several women in Palestine celebrating news of the attacks. The women, clad in hijab and abayas, were eating cake and cheering “Death to America.”
They looked just like me, but I did not share their happiness. And afterwards ensued a slew of images, connecting terror with men bearing resemblance to my father, and oppression with women who looked like my mother.
At the time, I wore the hijab, the Islamic headscarf donned by Muslim women. My mother sat me down in the family living room a few days after 9/11, and explained to me that I could remove my headscarf if I felt like I was in danger. A number of family friends’ daughters had done the same, and she told me she would understand.
“God wouldn’t want you to be in danger,” my mother said.
I turned to my father, who was in the same room with us. He held a disapproving look of my mother’s words.
“Isn’t this the land of the free?” he said.






