Diversity Dilemmas with Doaa Baker The first and only soccer match I ever attended was a World Cup qualifier for Ireland versus Iran in 2001, and tickets were like gold dust. That I happened to be the chance recipient of a free ticket earned me some short-lived celebrity in some circles (though ultimately I was sat way up in the nosebleeds).
It haunts me now that I was in fact rooting for an Iranian victory. My rationale had to do with religious affiliation. I take no pride in my treason, not least because I have since realised the corruption of the Iranian regime. Chalk it down to youthful folly and life lessons learnt.
I was then at a phase where my ideology trumped my nationalistic sentiment. It’s your classic cultural conundrum: when negotiating the hyphenated identity, where should your allegiances lie?
The current Arab revolutionary fever has me in a head-spin. Perhaps it’s the 3am text alert that urged me to wake up and pray for Libya’s deliverance that makes me a disgruntled stakeholder. Or maybe it’s the lasting childhood trauma of weekend Libyan school.
The Irish Libyan community was the go-to for an Arabic education, and we were conscripted by our ex-pat parents. We were force fed Gaddafi’s ‘green book’ as part of the programme: that alone justifies my claims on the crazed colonel. My vested interest in the demise of Arab despots is more than just global consciousness. I feel directly involved in the fray.
It’s now spiralled into an identity issue. Who presents the lesser evil in the Irish general election should – but isn’t – consuming my attention. Although the verdict of the Irish ballot box has a more practical bearing on my life, I’ve been hit with a strong case of the apathies.
Perhaps it’s the national mood of disillusion and cynicism that’s swept me. It’s surely slim pickings between bad, worse and WTF? I wager that policy direction will effectively be the same whichever farmboy-cum-Taoiseach assumes the reins. The political power hankering over here is just boring.
In stark contrast, the dramatic scale of the Arab uprising excites me. I’ve always had a penchant for the absurd, and Arab rulers are a veritable freakshow. Gaddafi with his huddle of female-only bodyguards is but the tip of the iceberg.
Or it could be the optimism and the yes-we-can vibe that captivates me. The situation in Ireland has, to understate matters a tad, got quite dire. The movement of the Arabs is uplifting and inspires hope in such times. Or perhaps I’m thinking if they finally clean up their act it broadens my emigration options.
Baggage aplenty comes with multiple cultural and ethnic identities. In simultaneous situations, deciding what takes precedence is no mean feat. But there are also times when it can be an embarrassment of riches.
Multiple identities reap the benefits of a diverse portfolio. On occasions such as the fall of Mubarak in Egypt, the Libyan uprising and the portending regional revolt, I can experience the pathos and directly share in the jubilation.
Doaa Baker is an intern with Metro Éireann
