20 years ago, I landed on British soil with my husband and two kids. As a spouse of a PhD student, I had a mission to survive for 3 years, taking care of my family and supporting him until he successfully accomplished his studies. I had a choice of two: whether to confine myself to my house with minimal exposure to the street outside, or to make my way among strangers in a community that I had known none of its members. It was challenging and scary. My English was not an obstacle yet no matter how fluent I was, the accent and the dialect were not to be ignored! Moreover, not only was the language barrier something that distinguished me from the locals, my head scarf was obvious enough to tell that I was an outsider. An immigrant, a refugee, an ethnic minority of any sort; that was how I looked in the eyes of my community at that time. I was not at ease and reluctant to take a step further in the beginning.

          Gradually, I started to go out on my own without the company of my husband. I was courageous enough to explore the area. With a backpack, map and two excited children I started to live what turned out to be one of the best three years of my life. The first impression I had of the locals in the area I lived in in Glasgow was positive. People were friendly and a smile bridged the gap wherever I went. Having a super busy husband that used to go to Strathclyde University even at the weekends, I refused to stay at home doing nothing but watching TV. I believed in adventures.

          I started going here and there. We used to live in Ibrox; an ethnic minority friendly neighborhood. At school, I was surprised to see the cultural diversity of students and even teachers. My children were welcome to join and be part of the community. In the beginning, I was still on egg shells. I explored cautiously. In no time, I was out and about in nearly everywhere I could reach. On the buses, I never felt I was treated differently nor was the case in the city center. I used to go to the library and participate in events. I made friends and I felt I was welcome.

          Does this mean that life was a bed of roses there? Absolutely not! Were we subjects to any racial incidents? Yes! I was attacked by hooligans and youngsters who called me names, stoned me and shouted at me. Once in the park, when it started to rain suddenly and we were far inside, I found myself alone with only one person around on his bike and he took advantage of the situation and started circling around me and the kids insulting me as “a bloody Muslim” and asking me to go back to where I had come from!

           I was tolerant. I fully understood their motivations and gave people excuses for their hate. Man is the enemy of what he is ignorant of. The media played a biased role at times. It spread a distorted image of the Arabs. The message it delivered was not always true or honest. They saw as opportunists coming after their benefits and privileges. They considered us to be full of grudge, hate and violence. This was unfair and false claims. I still remember how my Scottish friends commented on my English and my French. They were surprised that”Arab women” were very well educated contrary to the stereotypes they knew.           I remember quite well how one of them insisted that I report a hate incident to the police after one of the “yobs” attacked me. I chose to contain the situation but she said that the attack was against the law and that they had clear and tough measures against racism. “He’s just a young angry boy that might be dumped by his parents and was full of grudge against a mother taking her children to the park,” that was how I explained the situation.

          For three years, I did my best. I integrated in my society, I made friends, I studied, I went sightseeing and travelled from one destination to another. I enjoyed my time. I volunteered in my local community teaching Arabic to Pakistani ladies and English to new comers of asylum seekers. I had my third baby in Glasgow and it was such a pleasant time. I felt no discrimination in the hospital nor was I treated differently in any way. Nurses were friendly and so were the doctors.

          It breaks my heart now to hear about racism and hate showing its ugly face in the UK. People used to live peacefully in the community. They ate curry and fish’ n chips in the same plate. Mixed marriages were present and families intertwined happily. I believe in humanity and the prevalence of goodness and reason. Aside from politics and agenda’s, people are willing to live in harmony. Violence, hate and racism are short lived. A tree will yield its fruits even if one or two were bad.