Ray Hanania

I'm Glad I Look Like a Terrorist

Growing up Arab in America

• Broschiertes Buch

Produktbeschreibung

I'm Glad I Look Like A... Terrorist is a humorous and realistic look at the American ethnic experience by an award-winning Palestinian-American journalist. Hanania describes the subtle and not-so-subtle bigotry facing Arab Americans and offers some solutions for improving America's perceptions of Arabs. An award winning writer, journalist and columnist, Hanania has also performed standup comedy lampooning his Palestinian-Jewish marriage. The book uses humor often to help appreciate and understand the Arab experience in America and follows his life growing up on Chicago's Southeast Side in a prominent Jewish neighborhood through high school, military service during the Vietnam War to his career as a political journalist who covered Chicago City Hall from 1977 through 1992. You can get more information on Hanania by visiting his website at www.Hanania.com.

Produktdetails

• Verlag: Lulu Press
• Seitenzahl: 346
• Erscheinungstermin: 6. August 2015
• Englisch
• Abmessung: 229mm x 152mm x 20mm
• Gewicht: 562g
• ISBN-13: 9781329446670
• ISBN-10: 1329446674
• Artikelnr.: 44947409

Autorenporträt

I live in a constant state of fear. I grew up in an age of fright, hiding under my desk in school to prevent radiation poisoning during a nuclear atomic blast. Sputnik cruising in the night sky made me restless in my sleep. The growth of the news media only made the fear worsen. There was death and devastation on nearly every page. And then television brought it to me in living color. Hollywood took it from the TV box and splashed it across the big screen. Technology changed it all from reports of yesterday's news to instant delivery everywhere I turned. Soon, I was living the terror. On September 11, 2001, I was sitting comfortably in my 2000 Lincoln LS, what I felt was the supreme evolution of the new millennium. I was heading downtown to my job as vice president of Public Affairs for a Chicago communications agency. I had opened up the full eight cylinders of the silver car, cruising down the Stevenson Expressway (I-55) during rush hour traffic at a stop-and-go pace of 20 miles per hour. My cellular telephone was in my right hand against my ear, oblivious to reports of cancer-caused brain damage. The radio news dial was set to 91.4 FM, the local NPR affiliate, WBEZ. My left hand casually rested on the steering wheel when the news broke in at around 7:48 AM. A "small plane" had struck one of the towers of the World Trade Center. It was as if my older brother had just jumped out from behind a wall, startling me into pure white-faced shock as a child decades before. "My God. Please don't let this be an act of terrorism," I prayed. I just couldn't take it again. Minutes later, I thought my worst fears had been realized when the announcer reported that a second jet had slammed into the second tower and then disintegrated into a massive ball of flames and black smoke. I thought they were my worst fears realized, but they were not. Everyday after for more than a month, it just got worse. This book had originally been written as a sort of therapy after the April 1996 bombing of the Murrah Federal building in Oklahoma City. That bombing left a scar I could never erase, but it was never as powerful a moment in time as was the exact moment that I heard my school mate yell to me from across the Joseph Warren Elementary school playground that "The President was assassinated." The moment was burned into my mind forever. The car crash death of Britain's Princess Di was another moment of searing memory that could never be erased. ...