Every year during Halloween my parents do something that, until now, I never really understood. As the sun gracefully sets in the west and the sky burns with an orange hue, they bring in their black cat, Oreo. She does not go back out until the next morning.

“Why do you bring her in?” I asked my mom.

“Superstitious people might try to hurt her.”

I usually laughed her off, but then I started thinking about all the other cruel and unusual things people do during Halloween, such as place razors or needles in childrens’ candy. Suddenly, the prospect of hurting Oreo because they think black cats are evil became reasonable.

A similar situation happened this month around September 11th.

Wife: “I don’t want you taking the kids out alone today. It’s too dangerous.”

Me: “Come on, no one’s hurt or said anything to me yet. We’ll be fine.”

Then, she gave me that mother’s stare, the one known universally throughout the animal kingdom as “Back the @&*# off, or I’ll skin you alive.” I listened.

My wife’s concern is not without precedent. While there are several cases throughout the United States of persecution against Muslims during September 11th, Sikhs also catch flak as well in a case of mistaken identity. We all remember Balbir Singh Sodhi, who was gunned down four days after 9/11 for being mistaken for a Muslim or Arab. This fact is something I’m well aware of and I can’t deny that whenever I feel the stares of people as they look at my turban, a chill ripples down my spine.

For this very reason, I nearly missed a great opportunity with my daughters this year.

Last week we signed them up for their third soccer season. Soccer is a big tradition in our family as I am a third generation goal keeper (my girls appear to be more striker/forward material, but one can hope!). Because I missed so much of their last season (college classes, Project Conversion, etc.), my wife suggested I coach. But there was a concern.

Wife: “You aren’t gonna wear the turban during practices and games…The parents might be uncomfortable.”

Man that was a tough one! I’ve had my hair covered all month inside and outside the home. A Sikh would never uncover their hair because of social pressure! There are reports of Sikhi men and women who upon threat of death for keeping Kesh (unshorn hair) and Sikhi beliefs saying, “You may cut off my head, but not my hair.”

While I’m not that committed to keeping Kesh, I will do whatever I have to within reason to maintain a Sikhi identity this month. But I also didn’t want to make the kids or their parents uncomfortable. I needed a third opinion, so I asked my dad.

Me: “I was thinking about coaching the girls’ soccer team this season, but I don’t think I’m going to.”

Dad: “Hmm, why not?”

Me: “The turban. Parents might not want their kids coached by a guy with a turban.”

My dad took a sip of his beer and turned down the volume on the television. “So…you’re gonna hide then?”

He had just given me a cup check in principles. Me: “I guess I see your point.”

Dad: “The last thing this country needs is people hiding who they are out of fear of what others might think. If that’s who we’ve become–a nation of spineless conformists–then what the hell did your ancestors fight for?”

Dad is a former Army Ranger. He’s fought in the Middle East and in jungles I’ve never heard of. When he asks what my ancestors fought for, the question is rhetorical. Again, I deferred to wisdom and stepped away.

My next question was for my Sikh Mentor in Charlotte. I asked him if he exercised and he replied that yes, in fact he jogs every morning. Exercise (including weapons/combat training) was recommended by all of the Gurus. “But do you wear a turban,” I asked. No, he said, just a bandana.

I went to my wife with the solution–the compromise–and it worked. Now I basically have three forms of head covering: my white bandana for sports, a larger orange bandana for wearing around the house, and my formal black turban for going out in public.

The moral of the story is that there is a fine line between boldly standing up for who you are and being cautious of what sticking your neck out really means. I’m quite proud of wearing the turban and the other Five K’s, but being an honorary Sikh has heightened my sense of awareness–not only for my own safety–but of the feelings of others. I cannot imagine the struggles the early Sikhs and Sikhs today go through just to maintain their identity. That is why I wrote yesterday’s post with so much passion, even if it might of made some uncomfortable. There is also the inspiring case of Capt. Tejdeep Singh Rattan and Captain Kamaljeet Singh Kalsi who, after a long struggle to keep the Five K’s in the U.S. Army, finally won the opportunity to serve their country and faith…faithfully.

Where there is a will, there is certainly a way. My dad was right after all. We cannot be afraid of who or what we are based on the perceived fears of others because that fear usually has a base in ignorance. Therefore, respect and guidance must be given to those who do not understand, and that is part of my mission here. I refuse to be the black cat hidden from view because of what others might do, that’s why I still wear the turban. There are fantastic undertakings within the Sikhi community to educate others about their religion and way of life and these are great steps in the right direction.

So I ask, does wearing the turban make you feel like a target of fear in public? Do you feel like a “black cat?” Have you taken measures to avoid people? What advise could you share on how to make both yourself and others more comfortable about the Five K’s?