voting for the Muslims

I am realizing again how black and white everything becomes in an election year. Shades of gray are hard to find, especially in a close, hard-fought election like this one promises to be. The lines seem to be particularly harshly drawn this year, and the contrasts are stark. From age to experience to skin color, we are presented with an either-or choice. No one is in any mood to compromise or seek a middle ground before the election.

So I am especially glad that my children spent the last two years outside the US in Southeast Asia where US events and issues appear more nuanced and less polarized. People, groups, nations or philosophies that may be painted with a single stroke here show in a different light outside our country's borders. My youngest children are at the age where they are just becoming aware of world events; their main exposure to newsworthy occurrences comes from dinner table conversations between their parents and older siblings. In Malaysia they imbibed opinions and attitudes along with lemon grass curry, butter naan and tandoori chicken, washed down with ice-blended mango smoothies, of course.

So this morning over breakfast my seven year old was paying close attention as I explained a map of Europe during the Middle Ages to an older child, pointing out which areas were controlled by Franks, Angles and Muslims. I didn't realize she was listening until she piped up cheerfully, "If there are no Christians, then I'm voting for the Muslims."

I was delighted. I'm so happy that she has had the opportunity to know many Muslims as kind, caring individuals, that women in headscarves don't frighten her and that she has had the opportunity for so many friendly, teasing chats with the dark=skinned young men who weigh produce at the market or serve heaping plates of rice at a favorite neighborhood restaurant. I'm so glad that Siti and Hazlini and Mustafa sound like normal, everyday names to her, and that the sound of the call to prayer does not seem strange or threatening. I know as she grows older she will learn the distinctions between peaceful Muslims and militant ones; her views about Islam will necessarily become more complex and cautious, but for now, I am happy to hear her speak from her own experience and be able to love and embrace the people she lived happily among the last two years.

When she does become old enough to vote, I hope she will not have forgotten the kindness and the generosity of the people we were privileged to know in Malaysia. She probably won't decide to "vote for the Muslims," but I hope she will still love them.