My World, My Dunya

Preview

My life flashed before my eyes as I looked to the ground with fear in my heart. My hands shaking, I got up as my name was called. I can't believe I have to present my speech next and embarrassingly enough, my teacher still doesn't know how to pronounce my name. How hard is it to say Dunya? At this point, I don't even think they try anymore.

I try to ease my anxiety by focusing on my breathing, I say a quick dua under my breath. My speech is very controversial, especially for the majority of white people in the room. As Mrs. Backer, my teacher, got the room of teens quieted down. I fidgeted with my paper as I timidly read off of it, trying to project my voice.

"We can't here you, speak up!" said Charles, one of my classmates.

I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes, keeping my eyes to the back of the class. I strengthened my voice as the passion for my speech got ahold of me. The beauty of melanin and oppression of minorities. I tumble over a couple of words, but instead of panicking, I take a deep breath.

I need to get my point across or they'll never learn. I finished reciting my speech and stood there awkwardly, a smile threatening to burst from my face. The seconds felt long as I stood and no one clapped, the only sound in the room hushed whispers and Mrs. Backer's pen on her notepad.

Slowly but surely, my peers clapped for me and I finally felt like my hard work was rewarded. I walked away from the podium to my seat, my heart filled with happiness overriding the fear of the classroom rejecting what I have to say. I breathed out, "alhamdulliah I got that over with."