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Secure MAG
  I went to an airport one day and I had to go through security
  First they checked my bags and food for poisons and impurities
  Then they made me take my shoes off and glanced at my turban
  They probably think I’m a terrorist and I am eager to prove to them my suburban
  Birth and roots; to show them my roots and place of origin
  To prove them I’m not a terrorist but an average kid from Oregon
  I try but I can never change what they think
  A poem can’t change the mindset of people whether it be written in pencil or ink
  The messages of stereotypes and racism are forever engraved
  The innocent mind kills it questions and is forever enslaved
  By the people
  100 times you can check my background
  But my turban will never come down
  As I’m standing in the line
  I’m trying to find one person whose situation is worse than mine
  But I can’t
  Everyone is staring at me because I look Arabic
  If my heritage scares you that much I apologize – it’s inherited
  You think I want to live this way?
  Every building I enter people think I will blow up
  Some of the remarks I hear I feel like I’m going to weep or throw up
  It’s become a problem to even show up
  In public places for my brothers to show their bearded faces
  Without being subject to racist
  Remarks and questions; everywhere we go we seem to give off impressions
  Of absolute evil and destruction
  Society isn’t broken but it can’t go wrong with construction
  The problem isn’t evil or hate because people are good
  People are creations of God and God is great
  The way he should be. The problem is fear –
  A fear so great it manifests itself as a disgusting hate
  That makes and shapes the fates of the next generation
  Who enter our society with this anticipation
  To never sit next to an Indian or Arab on an airplane
  This is our slice of the American pie and we’re told that this is a fair game
  They say they give us the opportunity to rise but we don’t take it
  Well, my friend, you have me standing here bare naked
  In the middle of the airport; my articles of clothing politely “removed”
  Just to soothe the white man standing to my right
  Deprived of my rights as a citizen and a human
  I speak with an edge, foaming at the mouth and fuming
  Every word cringes to the last as the past is recollected
  The memory infected and infested with memories of prejudice and discrimination
  In this nation built on pillars of freedom and expression
  And every man’s confession is valid
  My skin is a vivacious brown not a bland pallid complexion
  Let words be our guides and guide us in the correct direction
  In this melting pot of cultures, let us avoid these vultures
  That feed off of us. Racism at the airport is a disease but there is a cure
  My people stand here degraded and humiliated just to make yours feel secure.

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This piece deals with the inherent discrimination in airports towards Arab/Indian Americans.