Identity

I arrived at the university early – something that always delights me and gives me hope that one day I might yet become a punctual man. I sat in a corner and used the time to finish the readings for the first day, though I fell asleep after a few pages – no wonder, considering I’d gotten up at 5am in the Youth hostel in Leipzig to be on time for the beginning of my new course at the Freie Universität Berlin’s Summer School (FUBiS). I only snoozed for a bit and at quarter to nine, I walked down the isle to the FUBiS office, where we’d been told to wait for our lecturer Miss Becker to pick us up. And sure enough there they were – all those interesting people that made up the students of this course, each single one of which I couldn’t wait to get to know better.
And I didn’t have to wait for long: after some admin stuff, we started with a first round of introductions, but with a twist: we had to pair up and got 15 minutes to find out the other person’s identity (!!!), in order to then present our colleague to the rest of the class. What a great idea and what a challenge! Samira and I first discussed for ten minutes what 'identity' could actually mean? Does it mean, what we are at our core? Is it a mix of religion, nationality and socio-economic background (in any order)? Or is one's identity more of a contextual or even performative issue - i.e. it changes with each situation? Or oppositional - you're more this as opposed to that? Well, in the end we just had to try.

Thus, I now have the honour to introduce you to my class, through the words of others:

Shaykha likes capital cities and identifies herself with three things: being a Gulf Arab, Islam and her tribe.
Idir’s parents are Berbers from Algeria, but he’s just Idir.
Noora was raised in Algeria by an (Eastern) German mother and an Algerian father. But she’s a Berliner or even a Neuköllner.
Dushe doesn’t qualify for a national identity. He’s European, Cosmopolitan and not on time.
Nash’at is a Muslim and a Palestinian and a student of democracy and human rights.
Anoud is a Saudi, Muslim mother.
Dina is half-Egyptian and half-German, but doesn’t belong to either place.
Mohammed identifies with a Global identity, according to Muslim values, unlike most people around him in Saudi-Arabia.
Jenna is Californian (in this context) and not interested in her Eastern European roots.
Mohammad is a Muslim from Afghanistan, studying Psychology and Management Sciences.
Elsa is a French citizen and wants to know more about her African roots in Benin.
Hermeen doesn’t identify with any specific country or religion. Living in the United Arab Emirates of Eritrean parents, she relates to a Global culture.
Islami is from a privileged minority in Afghanistan, who received a good education.
Donatella is a shy Italian girl, interested in the Middle East.
Tom is a married American journalist with two kids.
Ruhollah is first of all a Muslim, then an Afghani and lastly a defence lawyer.
Wolfgang likes do disassociate himself from being "German", he'd rather be a "citizen of the world". And he believes in humanity.
Samira is a student from Tehran. She loves Islam, but disassociates herself from fundamentalist streaks. She wears her hejab to show her identity.

And Mahmoud – well, Mahmoud couldn’t come. But he sent a letter:

Dear Colleagues,

I apologize to all of you for not attending the summer session this year.
As a Palestinian, it follows that I live under occupation, thus cancelling simple human rights, such as the freedom of movement and travel.
Thus, after I finished packing for the trip, I started my journey, like a trip to hell, to the (Israeli-occupied) West Bank-Jordanian border. There, one finds there are all kinds of tormenting and humiliating sights. Waiting to cross were crying children, pregnant women, elderly men, and disgruntled, broken youth.
Then I got the news – certainly like many others – who were turned around after hours of waiting: I am prohibited from travelling? I tried to explain to the Israeli soldiers that my purpose of travel was to attend an academic course in Germany about Islam and the West, but no one would listen. My hopes were shattered by the crushing weight of the occupation.
Though I write you with tremendous sadness, know that theses words are unable to fully describe to you my feelings as I return home and begin composing this letter, even before telling my family about what happened.
I apologize especially to Miss Becker for my absence from the course. But it was not my choice – it was that of the occupation.
In my stead, feel free to write my name on a small placard and place it on an empty chair!
Sincerely,
Mahmoud

P.S.: In seriousness, I hope you are able to pass this message along to my colleagues who are able to attend the course, as well as to send them my hope in joining them in another course in the future.


What a start! I imagine that the arbitrariness of it must be the hardest part to deal with. I’m glad that Nash’at managed to get here and Mahmoud also announced that he will not give up and try again today.
Despite the shadow this cast over our first day, it was a great seminar, with vivid discussions, open minds and eyes so piercingly alive that it filled the room with light and my heart with joy – I loved it! I am more excited than I can tell you about our next seminar on Friday… well, and about the whole month ahead!