Exploring the Differences

Sara Flayhan

Guest Writer

With every election and major political event in the United States, it seems like political divisions broaden. Some may brag about the number of friends they have blocked because of which tiny bubble they filled on their election ballot. As hateful language increases, we risk losing sight of what really matters to us as members of shared communities. With the founding of the Center for Civic Friendship at Assumption, I have come to recognize how prioritizing friendship over politics has enriched my life.

Growing up in the Midwest, despite the large Arab population in cities such as Detroit, it was still challenging to be half Lebanese. My sister and I were the only Arab students in our school district, and I felt embarrassed to be Lebanese because of the harassment we faced.

My teachers usually assumed that my last name was Irish. When I explained that Flayhan is Lebanese, my peers made inappropriate comments that I cannot repeat in print and which my teachers did nothing to address. The only context for talking about Arabs in my school district was related to Al-Queda and ISIS.

I stopped identifying myself as Lebanese after 4th grade and told people I was Irish-Italian like my mother. Nonetheless, those who remembered my Lebanese heritage continued to harass me.

These painful experiences continued until my family moved to Longmeadow, Massachusetts where I met my best friend, whom I am going to call Emily for the purpose of confidentiality. I told Emily about my Lebanese heritage since Israel and Lebanon are neighboring countries, which she thought was cool as did many of my Jewish peers in Longmeadow. She never cared that Lebanon and Israel are unfriendly towards each other, and neither do I.

We experienced similar discrimination based on stereotypes about our heritages, and she was always horrified to learn about the comments my peers in the Midwest would say to me. It was Emily who convinced me to embrace being half-Lebanese and she insisted there was nothing wrong with me or my culture.

Following the Oct. 7 massacre in Israel and the war against Hamas, the reality of daily life for many Jewish college students changed dramatically. I witnessed this behavior firsthand by having a Jewish best friend who shared her fears with me about the challenges she faced just by walking to class.

I made sure to check in with her regularly to see how she was managing. She messaged me out of the blue a couple of weeks after Oct. 7 stating, “Thank you for being supportive of me with everything happening in Israel…I knew you would.” She recognized, even though I am Lebanese, that our friendship would persist despite the war.

Ironically, some of my childhood peers who mocked my Lebanese identity were now shouting “Free Palestine and Lebanon.”  The truth is, they don’t care about Palestine or Lebanon; they just want to be part of the in-crowd shouting fashionable slogans that they may not even understand.

Emily and I agree that many college students suffer from believing the misinformation that is prevalent on social media. Despite social media propaganda suggesting that Emily and I should hate each other, we rely on each other for comfort and support.

Our friendship, which depends upon having forged a true human connection, transcends political differences. This is the essence of civic friendship, which allows us to look beyond a stereotype to see the true goodness in people.

Shaming people because they voted for either Harris or Trump does not make you a better person, it makes you the problem. Building friendships with those who hold views different from yours and using those differences to learn from each other does.