Original entry on December 1, 2014
I haven't written one of these entries
in a while despite the amount of crazy adventures I have been experiencing on a
daily basis, especially in New York.
Based on certain experiences, I
sometimes joke that apparently all hijabis must look the same... Today, I was
brought back to remembering winter quarter of 2009 during my studies at UCSD.
One morning, I had decided to grab a smoothie from Jamba Juice on campus after
my noon class. When I went up to order, the girl behind the counter gave me the
oddest look.
“Weren’t you here this morning?” She
asked, not moving to take my order.
“Excuse me?” I had just arrived to
campus. I don’t remember why, but my morning classes had been cancelled. “No, I
actually haven’t been in here in a long time.” I was confused at why it
mattered if I had been in there recently or not at all.
“You ordered a smoothie this morning.”
She was both confused and seemed pissed, at the same time.
“You must have me mistaken for someone
else.” I laughed.
“No, it was you. I remember.” She
named off my order.
“Not that it matters, but I haven’t
ordered that in years.” I realized she still hadn’t asked me what I wanted to
order. “More importantly, even if I had been in here earlier, why is that a
problem?”
She sighed, “Whatever. What do you
want?”
I shook my head, but put on a smile. “May
I please have an original Matcha Green Tea Blast?”
“You’re dressed the same. It has to
have been you.” She handed me the receipt.”
“I don’t need it and have a great
day.” I walked off and immediately called my best friend and former roommate.
“Salaam!”
“Hey, habibti. Did you come to Jamba
Juice earlier today?” I asked her.
“Yeah, how did you know?” She laughed.
“I’ll tell you later. Where are you?”
I was amused, considering we didn’t look alike at all.
“I’m heading to the MSA prayer area
and then to the SJP office.”
“Alright, cool. See you soon.”
I took my drink and headed over there.
My roommates and I never headed to campus at the same time. Both this roommate
and I always had earlier classes, but one of us always left before the other. I
heard her leaving in the morning, but didn’t see her, as usual. We both walked
into the prayer area from opposite ends, at the same time. Everyone in the area
laughed.
“Dang! Did you two plan your outfit
this morning?” One of the MSA brothers asked.
“Wow! I haven’t even seen her all
day.” I laughed.
As I stood there looking at my friend,
we were both dressed in dark blue jeans – she in skinny jeans and me in
straight ones. We both had on identical Palestine shirts, but different colored
hijabs and shoes to match. Both of us had on a black jacket with a hood. I told
her what happened at Jamba Juice and everyone laughed.
“Didn’t you know all hijabis look the
same?” Another friend sarcastically remarked. “Or maybe it’s that Palestinian
look.” He added.
***
[Sign outside the coffee shop.]
It makes me smile to remember that
day. Something similar happened to me last night and this afternoon at a coffee
shop.
When I arrived to New York, a friend
who is in NYC for her medical school rotations gave me a few suggestions for
coffee shops in one of my favorite areas in Brooklyn, Park Slope, that make for
good study spaces. I tried each once before choosing my own café to work. I saw
her recently and she urged me to return to this Swedish coffee spot that she
loves but I didn’t return to because the barista was a jerk to me the first
time. She told me she was a regular customer last winter.
Last night, I chose to walk into that
coffee shop for a quick latte after book shopping.
“Hi.” I cheerfully greeted him.
“Hey.” He stared at me. I couldn’t
tell if it was the same barista.
“How are
you doing?” Because after all these months in New York, the Californian in me
still believes in asking people how they’re doing before I order anything,
despite the blank stare and no response I usually receive.
“Tired.” I wasn’t sure how to react to
his monotone response.
“Aww, I’m sorry.” I could feel the
awkwardness filling the short space between us.
He shrugged, “We’re closing soon. We
close early on Sundays.” He stated.
“Now?” I looked around at the café
that was still full of people. “Can I still order something.”
He stared back at me, expressionless.
“Caaan I get a latte? Soy?” I smiled.
He finally smiled back, “Oh, yeah.” He
mumbled, again. “I can take care of that for you.”
“Awesome. Thanks.”
Suddenly, he was really nice to me.
“So, what time do you close tonight?”
I leaned over the counter to ask as he pulled the espresso shots for my drink.
“Uhm,” He pulled out his phone and
fumbled with it. “Woah!” He mumbled something I couldn’t understand, then
awkwardly laughed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“I almost dropped my phone. That was
close.” I thought I might have actually spotted a slight smile.
“Yikes.” I felt like his awkwardness
was rubbing off on me.
He handed me my drink, “I haven’t seen
you around in a really long time.”
“Yeah,” It hit me. He thought I was
actually my friend. “Just been busy.” He was being so much nicer, I decided to
just go with it. “Have a good night!” I jetted out of there.
Today, I decided to actually try
working in there again.
When I
ordered, he was nice again, joking around in that monotone voice, with a hint
of jerk.
“Hey, how
are you doing today?” I smiled.
“Good.
What do you want to drink?” I noticed a grin emerging, like he was planning
something in his head.
“Soy
latte, please. And, what time do you close tonight?” I asked.
“We close
at 8 tonight. You’re not going to try to come back here at 7:30 and order
again, are you?” He mocked as he swiped my card.
“Nah,
I’ll be nice this time.” I held back my own snarkiness. I picked up one of
those buy 9 drinks get the 10th one free cards. “Hey, can I get this
stamped?”
“I don’t
stamp cards for costumers who don’t regularly come in anymore.” He took the card.
I smirked
realizing again he still thought I was my friend. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back
often.”
“Alright,
since I always see you in here…” He stamped off 8 squares for my one drink, “So
you can get a free one sooner. Now you only need one left.”
“Thanks!”
I felt a hint of guilt as I walked away and thought to myself that I should
treat my friend to coffee for unknowingly getting me on good terms with the
barista.
I took a
seat at the far end of the café, next to the window, of course. I turned on my
computer before realizing I didn’t have the password for the free wifi. I
thought I had connected my laptop and phone the first time I tried this place,
but it must have disconnected me. I asked the woman sitting behind me, but she
didn’t remember the password because it had been atomically connected from the
first time she used her laptop in this place. I knew I needed to ask the
barista, risking him knowing I played off being a regular costumer… I felt bad
about it.
I
approached the counter as he was making a cup of coffee for a costumer, “What’s
the password, again?” I cautiously asked.
“His
brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you not have it? I thought I had recognized
you for someone that’s been here a few times…” His smile dropped.
“Yeah… I
don’t know why I’m not connected anymore.”
“Here you
go.” He handed me the password. “Don’t forget it.” He ordered.
I walked
back to my seat feeling his eyes following me. I immediately texted my friend
letting her know the barista had definitely confused me for her. If she walks
in later this winter, I was hoping he’d recognize the difference. I knew she
hadn’t been here since her last rotation ended earlier this year, but now she’s
back for another rotation this winter. If he asks me next time I’m here, I’ll
confirm that there are indeed two hijabis that frequent this café.
It amuses
me that he thought we were one person. Aside from the hijab, my friend and I
look nothing alike. I tried to remember if we dressed in any similar way, but
despite that, we are also two different ethnicities. I will say that we both
fit the Californian nice, bubbly attitude, but she’s definitely so much sweeter
than I am. To be honest, I was flattered because my friend is beautiful.
It always
strikes me as funny and ridiculous when people mistake me for another hijabi
they have met when it’s based upon the fact that we’re both Muslim and wear the
hijab. This situation wasn’t any different. Although, come to think of it, I
haven’t seen another hijabi in the area in all the months I have been coming to
Park Slope, which surprises me considering the amount of Muslims here. Maybe
it’s just the areas I go for my coffee and to work on my writing and
photography. Either way, I know it won’t be the last time I experience this. It
has happened to me many times before, not just these two instances. Every time,
it boggles my mind that this type of stereotyping exists – when one thinks that
everyone from one type of background looks the same based on ethnicity, skin
color, or even way of dress. I’ll leave it at that.
On the
bright side, I get a free cup of coffee soon and the awkward barista who I have
watched be a jerk to every younger person that has come in is at least nice
enough to me that I can be sarcastic back and feel comfortable enough being a
frequent costumer. Not going to lie, he seems like a decent guy. Most
importantly, he makes really good coffee!
Looks like I have found a new café to work
in, and a blog post I have been working on for a while will finally be coming
to you soon…
