What I Have In Common With Barack Obama

Before it happened to Barack Obama it happened to me. Twice. True stories. The first time it happened was in the nineties when I was working in a restaurant. It was one of the delivery drivers who asked me one night “are you Muslim?”

What me Muslim? What a random question for a guy stacking glasses and making drinks. I had to know then and there just what the hell he thought was so friggin’ Muslim about me.

“I’m not Muslim. Why?” I asked

“Because you’re polite, you’re educated, you’re intelligent, you’re handsome. I just thought you were Muslim” he said smiling before walking away.

Context is everything and for clarity he was Persian and a Muslim. Generally we spoke in small talk, never really touching on anything like this. It was a unique enough experience for me to ruminate over the next moments. I deduced that there were two likely possibilities for his unprecedented curiosity in my faith and culture. Either a)he actually thought highly enough of me to believe I was Muslim, or b)he was buttering me up so I would put up his delivery drink orders faster.

I might seem paranoid to suggest motive b, but the reality was that servers who sucked up to me got priority. He may have picked up on these work dynamics and this “are you Muslim” thing was his way of laying it on. For me, the question remains; If he was just greasing the wheels, did he actually think that asking if I was a Muslim was the way to my heart? Was it at all possible that he was unaware of the PR issue Muslims have in America? Luckily for him, I'm not an anti-Muslim bigot and I accepted his suspicion as genuine observation of me as an ideal citizen. Either way he got his beverage order filled right fast.

The second time I was mistaken for a Muslim was in the LA airport back in early 2001. I was on my way to Las Vegas for the show I was working on. Ambling between gates to kill time I saw a suit of Black Muslims distributing some print media. I caught the eye of one because he was a young dead ringer for the late Maynard Jackson, a former mayor of Atlanta. I did a double take right into his line of sight. I’m not inclined to engage any strangers soliciting anything, but I never like to duck and dodge Black Muslims handing out papers and I think the reason is because I don’t want them looking at me like I look at black Republicans; that is to say while I respect their opinion, I can’t help but think they are self-hating.

So this opened an exchange of pleasantness between me and Lil’ Malcolm. After our howdy-doos he made mention of my decency in acknowledging him and his mosquemates. Then he asked “are you Muslim?” Two things struck me about that. First I was surprised that he asked in such blunt terms. I would have thought there was some code in the Nation of Islam like “are you a friend of Lou’s” or something like that. Second, a part of me didn’t want to disappoint by just answering no. I tried to think if there was anything in my history I could share with him that linked me to Islam and the only thing I could think about was how my uncle who had been a prison guard used to talk about the Muslim inmates. I decided just to tell him I wasn’t a Muslim and left it at that.

It was truly an increase the peace moment, not too different from that famous photo of King and X except I don’t think Malcolm X hypothesized that King must have been a vegetarian because of his clear complexion. I shit you not. I thanked my Muslim friend, but informed him that I did indeed eat meat and then I relented when he presented his backup theory that I must have drank a lot of water. Then he gave me a copy of The Final Call, the official paper of the Nation of Islam, free of donation. I was moved by his generosity and when I read it I found the writing to be provoking, imaginative and relevant to issues that had expired weeks if not months earlier, just like this blog. I checked the date of the paper and it was a past edition. If it really was a final call to anything, I totally would have missed it.

Oddly enough both of these Muslims who had me summed up all wrong had apportioned enough flattery upon me to make a man less secure with his manhood feel a little uncomfortable. Me, I love compliments. I’d much rather have someone mistake me for a Muslim the way it was done to me over the way it was done to Obama during the 08 campaign. When someone thinks I’m a Muslim they mean “erudite” and “cosmopolitan” and “attractive” (or they want their drinks fast). When they think Obama’s a Muslim they mean “sinister" and "sneaky" and "not white.” Finally, I luck out.