{"id":3134,"date":"2018-04-24T13:38:45","date_gmt":"2018-04-24T17:38:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/uprising1313\/?p=3134"},"modified":"2018-04-26T13:21:19","modified_gmt":"2018-04-26T17:21:19","slug":"sahar-ishtiaque-ullah-randomly-selected","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/uprising1313\/sahar-ishtiaque-ullah-randomly-selected\/","title":{"rendered":"Sahar Ishtiaque Ullah | Randomly Selected"},"content":{"rendered":"

By\u00a0<\/strong>Sahar Ishtiaque Ullah<\/strong><\/p>\n

If I should disappear<\/p>\n

Please let my loved ones know<\/p>\n

I did wudu<\/em> before I left the house<\/p>\n

I read my wird<\/em>, too<\/p>\n

And I wore a little eyeliner and lip-gloss<\/p>\n

For the interview I never made it to.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I\u2019m going to try to tell this again.<\/p>\n

Around 3:30 PM on Tuesday, April 17, 2018, I walk into my neighborhood subway station. It is not a major tourist or train hub like Times Square or Penn Station or Grand Central or Columbus Circle or Borough Hall or Barclays or Fulton or Herald Square or Jamaica Station. Only one train passes through. It is rarely packed with one newsstand that is often closed. The station gets busy during usual weekday hours. Other hours, you can count on one hand how many people are waiting for the train with you. It is located in a black and brown neighborhood that is slowly gentrifying.<\/p>\n

As I walk down the stairs, a tall male officer stops me and announces, \u201cYou have been randomly selected for a bag check.\u201d<\/p>\n

It takes me a moment to register what I actually heard. I look ahead; I see two other officers standing at a table and very few passengers waiting for the train on the other side of the turnstiles. The officer who stops me says, as if this information would comfort me, that they will not be intrusive and open my bag. He wears an apologetic smile but as I try to pay attention to his uniform and notice that all three officers are black and brown, I hear him tell me they will just rub my bag with a cloth and run it through a machine. I don\u2019t think to say no because I\u2019m scared. I hand him my bag.<\/p>\n

I know the technology they are using. It\u2019s the same used by TSA in airports to check for gunpowder residue. I know the tech because I have to rub my hands on my hijab and then have my hands rubbed with a small fabric that is then run through a small machine every time I go through airport security – whether I fly domestically or internationally. I think it\u2019s strange that I have rehearsed many times for this moment.<\/p>\n

I ask the officer if something is wrong. If anything is going on in the neighborhood. He says no. He keeps making an effort to smile, but I can feel my face frown and it cannot smile back. He says every now and then they do random bag checks in order to assure me this is a thing. He says he just picks a number, counts up to it – and I happened to walk in when he got to that number. As I watch them hold my bag, I hear a train approaching and see others quickly walk by me to catch the train.<\/p>\n

The officer then tells me I can go. I am flustered and upset. I look at him and shake my head. I can\u2019t go because I have to refill my metro card. I\u2019ll have to wait for the next train. The officer opens the emergency door and says to go ahead. I don\u2019t have time to think. I just follow his lead and walk through the open doors, sit in an empty seat, and begin to text \u201cI was just selected for a \u2018random bag check\u2019 in a train station\u201d wondering if that is even a thing.<\/p>\n

I am shaking. My head feels like it\u2019s spinning. I tell myself that it\u2019s a good thing I gave myself extra time that accounted for any MTA mishaps before getting to where I needed to be, especially since I have an interview.<\/p>\n

And I wonder about the very familiar TSA language the officer used. I wonder whether my black and brown neighbors – especially the men – have experienced this before in the same station. After all, black and brown neighborhoods are the first locations for testing new security and surveillance tech.<\/p>\n

I ask myself why this has rattled me.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not a noob to airport profiling – but airports are constructed separate and distant from our homes, increasingly organized as private spaces that accommodate class hierarchy and buying power in the forms of special lines, airlines clubs, and opportunities for expedited security services (for a fee). In that way, they are still unlike the public transportation we rely on daily in the city.<\/p>\n

The language and structure of the \u201crandom bag check\u201d in a subway stop that is a five minute walk from my home – where I see familiar faces, where I am a familiar face, regardless of my bag being opened or not – is intrusive.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t see them stop anyone else – nor did I get a chance to.<\/p>\n

For almost two decades, I\u2019ve received \u201cspecial\u201d treatment whether flying internationally or domestically. I\u2019ve been rubbed down for gunpowder residue. I\u2019ve travelled with minors in my family who have been unfairly flagged for additional processing, including a five-year old boy. I\u2019ve been escorted with my family from a plane along with other Muslim families on that plane to that special processing room in JFK and then released a couple hours later with an unconvincing explanation of a \u201cname match\u201d and a private apology. I\u2019ve pulled out my phone camera and recorded my partner getting escorted to a private room for a more \u201cintimate\u201d pat down when all he was wearing was jeans and a t-shirt and there was no one else in line. I regularly get that message in my checked baggage that TSA looked through it. I intentionally wear light, plain fabrics without buttons or embroidery, remove my bangles, never wear belts, and yet something on my wrist or ankle will flash as I walk through the full body scanner. I\u2019m pulled aside regularly after walking though the full body scanner to have someone examine my headscarf. That someone is trained to ask, \u201cWould you like to go somewhere private or is it okay if I examine your scarf here?\u201d I always prefer being in public.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve heard for years that TSA language about being randomly selected always aware that it was never random.<\/p>\n

I remind myself it\u2019s not normal and it should anger every one of us because it is not only for security – but I\u2019ve learned to expect it for my own well-being so when it does happen, I can continue with my life and get back to my work.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m writing this not to participate in some gross oppression Olympics – but because I want to remember a first experience. First experiences have a way of clarifying past emotions. They have a way of making transparent unprocessed thoughts that undergo a self-preserving process of desensitization in the face of repetitive behaviors.<\/p>\n

And being a noob to subway profiling, this first experience clarified for me that the testing of TSA security tech through racial profiling in public spaces and residential areas signals all kinds of things already in place and to come.<\/p>\n

Also, I made it to the interview.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n