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My mother just looked at me in wonder. “Wow,” she said. “Well in some ways it’s good, right? That they’re so careful?”I remember calling my father the Liberty guns beer Trump lgbt American flag shirt What’s more,I will buy this first time it had happened. He was away overseas, and it took a few tries to reach him. “Dad, I got stopped,” I blurted out when I finally reached him. “Got stopped?” he repeated, his voice crackling on the line. “Why?” “I don’t know,” I said, though of course I knew. Because of my name. Your name. I had a long-distance boyfriend that fall, an American one, who lived in Salt Lake City. He came to visit me in October, a month after the attacks. We said goodbye at the Toronto airport before he went through security. We kissed. We cried. It would be months before we’d see each other again and the border was suddenly feeling much more impenetrable; I had no idea how we would make this work. After I returned home from the airport, I got a phone call from him. “Well, I missed my flight,” he said. “I got detained by the police.” Someone had watched us kiss goodbye and thought that during that kiss, I’d slipped him a weapon—a razor?—with my mouth. When the police questioned my boyfriend, they asked him why “someone” might think that? They searched his bags and scoffed at his CDs and books. They kept him for hours asking the same questions.

“About us,” he said. “Mostly about you.” “Fucked up,” my father said when I told him, over coffee. He thought that the Liberty guns beer Trump lgbt American flag shirt What’s more,I will buy this airport woman was obviously fucking crazy. Because why would someone ever look at me and think these things? I looked at my father, my mirror image. His skin in my skin. His features in my features. Because I look like an Arab. Like you. “I don’t know,” is what I told him. When I attempted to cross the U.S. border the following summer, I was denied entry. I’d taken a train from Toronto because I was afraid to fly, and when we got to the border, I was immediately pulled aside, interrogated and searched by a blonde female officer who refused to believe that I was going to see my boyfriend in Salt Lake City and then my mother in Seattle. She wouldn’t let me call my mother. I cried when she told me they were turning me back. She told me I was crying because I knew I was lying. Two male officers joked that I was lucky that I didn’t get strip-searched. I remember walking from the bridge where they dropped me off to the train station and the long rattling train ride back to Toronto.

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