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Growing Up Muslim

Eight years old, and already on the Watch List

I stand in the line with my parents and sister, a line that stretches farther than my eye can see. Literally. I can barely make out the security desks at the front of the lines, but they are processing people like some sort of printer. The people are blank sheets, then the man behind the machine stamps their customs forms, and they come out with fresh ink on their worn and weary faces. I also cannot see because of my heig...