Everybody got three selves, I think. First, there's the public self, secondly there's the private self and finally, the true self. My name is Stephanie Aminata Villeneuve, and I'm a young French Canadian woman living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the town of Moncton, Province of New Brunswick, to a French Canadian father and Lebanese mother. I used to live in Toronto but I moved to the City of Ottawa three years ago. I'm twenty five years old, and recently graduated from Carleton University with a Master's degree in Business Administration. People see all kinds of things when they look at you, no matter who you are or where you're from.
Take me for example. I'm five-foot-eleven, slim and fit, with long blonde hair, skin that stays naturally light bronze year-round and pale blue eyes. People say I look a lot like my mother, Aminata Kasim, who moved to Canada from the City of Baalbek, Republic of Lebanon, when she was younger. I believe in eating right and in taking care of myself. I go to the gym three times a week, because I want to live a long and healthy life. No, I don't model, and yes I am smart. Stereotypes follow all of us. For example, everybody assumes that I'm a Quebecer because I speak French and have a French name but I've never even been to the Province of Quebec. It really doesn't impress me as a place, sorry. I know two places in Canada, and that's Ontario and New Brunswick. Born in one and educated in the other. Surprises a lot of people when I reveal that, I tell you.
I recently moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the East end of Ottawa, in an area known as Vanier. It's a high-rise apartment not far from everything I need. The number nine bus stop is nearby, along with a Loblaws for easy grocery shopping. The Saint Laurent Mall is a ten minute walk away. Yeah, I've got everything I need. I work at the Canadian Revenue Agency, at a branch located a fifteen minute walk from my new apartment. My landlord says he doesn't like dogs but made an exception for me and Maggie, my Jack Russell terrier because I told him I'd pay an additional hundred bucks a month just to keep my dog in my apartment. Greed is a powerful motivator in today's world, always has been and always will be.
I have settled into my new life, and I can almost convince myself that I am safe. Almost. I can almost tell myself that Mohammed Imran and his cronies won't find me. Mohammed is a tall, rugged young man of Arabic descent whom I met in the City of Toronto a couple of years ago. He was studying civil engineering at Ryerson University and seemed really awesome. I've got a thing for guys from places like Latin America and the Middle East, maybe it's because my mother is Lebanese. Mohammed seemed cool, and he looked real hot with his buzz cut, cute face and muscular build. I didn't know that he was a creep with control freak issues. Mohammed Imran was born in the Republic of Yemen to a Yemeni father and Pakistani mother. His family moved to the region of Ontario, Canada, ten years ago. I've always had a thing for dark-skinned men with exotic names and Mohammed definitely seemed like a dream come true. He was so friendly, charming and generous.
We began going out, and I honestly thought the guy was amazing. And then one day, he changed. All of a sudden, this really cool, easygoing party guy whom I met at a bar in the Mississauga area became a religious freak. He began dressing in traditional Arab clothing, and quoting the Koran. He began to get mad at me for the way I dressed. He disliked both my short skirts and my tight pants. He sneered at me when I crossed myself every time I went near a church. My mother is a Maronite Christian and I was raised Catholic, and so faith mattered to me a lot. So yeah, I do cross myself when I'm near a church or a cemetery. What's wrong with that? I was surprised by the changes in Mohammed, to say the least.
In the space of a few months, Mohammed Imran had gone from a super cool guy who loved beer, loved parties and loved hockey to a loud and angry, conservative control freak. I marveled at the astonishing changes in him. He was born into a Muslim family but he never seemed that religious until recently. He had friends who were Christians and Jews. He hung out with white guys and Asian guys, and didn't seem to only associate with other Muslims. Now all he seemed to talk about was the State of Israel and how Arabs everywhere ought to unite behind the Republic of Iran and smite it down. I was horrified by the things Mohammed was saying, partly because I had Jewish friends and while I believed in peace, I also strongly supported Israel's right to exist. When I told him this, Mohammed laughed and told me that I was a Christian and thus an enemy of his people's ways.
That offended me. I told him that I wasn't prejudiced against Muslims, after all, I was dating him, wasn't I? Mohammed asked me if I cared about him and I said yes. He told me he wanted me to convert to Islam. I flat out said no because my Catholic faith mattered to me. Mohammed didn't take this very well. The more I thought about it, the more Mohammed scared me. He was starting to sound like those Muslim extremists you saw on CNN, cursing Western society, hating women's rights and wishing for Israel's destruction. I couldn't be with someone like that. I told Mohammed that I wanted to end it. We were sitting inside a restaurant near the Ryerson University campus, the same place where we dined so many times before. It was our favorite restaurant. Mohammed looked at me silently when I told him that I didn't want to see him anymore. He wasn't the man I thought he was.
