My hero is not just one person. Rather, my hero is a mosaic of people. My hero is deceased and alive, woman and man, old and young. My hero is close by in Perkins library, and my hero is also oceans away.
I attended an event at North Carolina State University celebrating the lives of the three victims of the Chapel Hill shootings. Entitled “Who is Your Hero,” the event urged us to think about the individual who continues to move us. The individual we look up to. The individual we want to emulate.
A speaker at the event, Oussama Mezoui, political activist and international development lead of United Muslim Relief, challenged our conceptions of a hero. When we dub someone a hero, we iconize them and hold them on a pedestal. We celebrate their lives and legacies and highlight their achievements, so that the entire world can celebrate them, too.
But by doing this, we distance ourselves from the lives and actions of these individuals. We tell ourselves, “We cannot do this because we are not as heroic as them.” But being inspired cannot be reduced to a sentiment that evolves within you. Being inspired is a verb. A call to action.
The event discussed how #ourthreewinners were heroes in US communities and abroad. Before they were murdered execution-style, in Chapel Hill, the victims dedicated much of their life to the service of others. They committed their lives to serving those with no place of stability, serving the homeless in Durham and refugees in Turkey. They helped build homes, packed free meals and raised money to deliver free dental supplies. All while studying to become professionals, dentists and architects.
#Ourthreewinners worked to leave this world a better place than when they entered it. But if we want to truly celebrate their lives, and all other individuals who selflessly work to move our world forward, we must continue their work and uphold their visions.
Heroes don’t emerge after they are gone from our world. We are surrounded by remarkable people everyday whose work often goes unnoticed. When everyone is striving to accomplish the extraordinary, we often forget about the ordinary moments. A few weeks ago, I witnessed the impact of these ordinary moments. I co-direct SuWA, a student-run program, through the Kenan Institute for Ethics, that empowers refugee women in Durham. All of the refugees who have attended SuWA identify as Muslim, and they are all acutely aware of the events that recently happened in 2015, including the adhan reversal, Chapel Hill shootings and murder of Ahmed Al-Jumaili. Their fears spilled over onto social media, text messages and conversations, and as a point of contact for many of these women, I felt a personal responsibility to assure them they had not left one place of instability to find themselves in another place of instability.
I am reminded of a verse in the Quran: “For indeed, with hardship will be ease,” [94:5]. It’s hard to believe that good will ever come out of such tragic events, but, indeed, I witnessed how people have the ability to move communities forward. For example, Leah Catotti, close friend and co-director of SuWA, organized house visits to about 30 refugees over three days in Durham. Though she does not speak Arabic and she is not Muslim, she was determined to be there, both physically and emotionally, for the families. Her actions were followed by many other students. They, too, reached out to Muslim refugees to offer their support and solidarity during these difficult times. I consider my SuWA friends and sisters unsung heroes.
Their actions, unbeknownst to many, remind me of Martin Luther King Jr’s Riverside Speech:
“We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation and for those it calls 'enemy,' for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.” Martin Luther King Jr. was not a hero because he only advocated for justice when it benefited American-people, but because he was a justice advocate for all people. King addressed the unjust atrocities in Vietnam, calling for a “revolution of values” among Americans, to uninhibitedly stand for justice everywhere, not just for justice in our own communities. In our noxious culture of Islamophobia and ignorance, we need this revolution of values to ensure that all communities, those with similar backgrounds and those with different backgrounds, can pursue their rights and thrive and engage in safe spaces.
Whether we realize it or not, we are surrounded by heroes who actualize King's legacy both in extraordinary and ordinary ways. Most of these individuals will never get recognized, but this should not prevent us from learning from their legacy and incorporating their actions in our lives. I graduate in a few weeks, and I’m expected to take with me a first-class education, research skills and a global perspective on many issues. But I hope that I also take and uphold the legacies of the heroic people I met during my Duke career. I hope that I never forget how to look at the world through their heroic lenses, to wreak good wherever I end up.
So who is my hero?
My hero is Leah and all the other SuWA student-partners, all who give up afternoons, evenings, and weekends to offer their unwavering support and solidarity. They teach me how to influence.
My hero is the Craven Z and AA housing staff member, who just came back from a 3-month surgery recovery. She teaches me how to persevere.
My hero is the Syrian refugee kid I met in Jordan who wants to grow up to be doctor and return to his community to heal. He teaches me how to hope.
My hero is my sister who continues to provide me with the best advice at 2:00 pm…and 2:00 am. She teaches me to how to inspire.
My hero is Khadijah, Prophet Muhammad’s (peace be upon him) wife. She teaches me how to be an influential woman.
My hero is my professor who pushes me to learn outside of the classrooms. He teaches me how to explore.
My hero is my dad who has never stopped mentoring me, but who is also not scared to show me his vulnerabilities. He teaches me how to be honest.
My hero is the Yemeni Nobel Peace Prize winner Tawakkol Karman who mobilized activists on the non-violent struggle for women’s rights and safety. She teaches me how to lead.
My hero is Mawlana Rumi, the great mystic poet, who reminds me that my path to the Beloved is through people. He teaches me to look beyond my own ego.
My hero is not just one person. My hero is a mosaic of people living for a purpose much greater than themselves.
My ode to students? Look up from your books. Find your heroes. Look at the world through their heroic lenses. They can change the way you carry yourself in this world, if you pay enough attention.
Leena El-Sadek is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.
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