I Wrote A Punk Rock Movie

What I Learned About Film And Myself

I wrote a movie called “White Like Me”. It’s a coming of age film about an Arab America teen in predominantly white, 1990s Orange County, California who lies and makes himself look white because he wants to join a punk rock band and avoid getting his ass kicked by all the skinheads running amok back then.

The film has history, parental conflict, ethnic strife, skinheads, and references to popular mid 1990s punk and ska bands (Sublime, The Vandals, No Doubt, NoFX, Guttermouth, among others) and classic punk bands (The Dead Kennedy’s, Black Flag, Sex Pistols, Ramones, among others). It climaxes at a Battle of the Bands with the Oklahoma City Bombing as a backdrop on April 21, 1995.

The movie is all fiction. But it came from deep inside of me. I felt compelled to write it. In fact, I had known for many years I would write a movie called White Like Me about an Arabic kid who hated being Arabic growing up in predominantly white Orange County, and all he ever wanted was to be white. I knew that is what the movie would be about because those were the deep seeded issues I tackled before I could let go, fully mature and have kids of my own.

Writing the film taught me many things. I learned more things than I could even come close to portraying in the film. And not just about me or Orange County, punk rock, or being a first generation product of immigrants. I learned how to write a film properly. What you can say and how you can say it in a visual way. I learned how to research for film writing and what is appropriate in a film. Of course, I learned that after I wrote the first several drafts of the movie and had to strip out the crap and rewrite it for over a year. Still, I learned. And I learned a lot about me.

So who am I? I am an Arab American. I was born in Downtown Los Angeles in 1977. A month later my family moved to North Orange County, right on the border of LA County. My childhood was spent straddled in Buena Park, La Mirada and Fullerton, and going to the beach in Huntington Beach. My parents came here from Jordan in the 60s and 70s, but have roots in other countries as well.

Some of my earliest, clear memories are of the Lebanese Civil War. My mom’s sister lived in Beirut and I distinctly remember her constantly trying call her sister to see if she was still alive. That memory had a profound impact on me. I knew Beirut was this far away place with a ravaging war, and I had family living there. And all over the news it was described as a battleground between numerous global powers and would eventually lead to the deaths of US Marines, kidnappings, rampant terrorism and the subject of numerous negative comments on television and in movies. I remember a funny line from Different Strokes where Arnold mentioned that one of the bully characters, maybe it was the Gooch or the character Andrew Dice Clay played, was so tough that they “vacationed in Beirut.”

After Beirut, I remember the hijackings, and then there was Qaddafi in Libya, the Achille Lauro hijacking and finally the first Gulf War following Saddams invasion of Kuwait. Those events occurred during what I consider as the first part of my formidable self-identification years. I was thirteen years old and I hated myself for something I didn’t do, for something I had no control over and for something I couldn’t change. I hated myself because I was an Arab. My family was from there and I felt like everyone hated me even though they didn’t know me.

During the Gulf War, I felt like when my parents spoke Arabic at a restaurant or in public that people were looking at us suspiciously. So I did what I could do to control the situation. I demanded that my parents never speak Arabic in public. I know I offended them, but I think they mostly obliged.

I remember my first concert, the KNAC 5th Anniversary Jam at the Long Beach Arena. Ozzy Osburne headlined, and Alice in Chains, The Lynch Mob (George Lynch’s Lynch Mob not Ice Cube’s) and LA Guns also played. During the middle of Ozzy’s set, his guitar player, Zak Wylde, made the crowd stand on their feet and chant loud enough so that our troops doing battling in Iraq could hear us, he made the crowd chant “Fuck Iraq”. I didn’t stand at first. Not because I wanted anything bad to happen to our troops, but because I just didn’t feel comfortable. So, people around me stared at me. Of course, I jumped up and joined and screamed at the top of my lungs “Fuck Iraq”. In my head and even now I feel like we were really chanting “Fuck the Arabs.”

When I discovered punk rock it was by accident. My next door neighbor, Dennis, who had fought in the Gulf War, had moved out of his parents house and they were selling some of his left behind belongings. This included two full crates of his punk records from the 1970s and 1980s. His parents sold me the crates for 15 bucks. I took the crates home and flipped through the records because I didn’t have a record player yet to listen to them. In the crate were original prints from the Dead Kennedys, Bad Religion, Black Flag, Social Distortion, the Adolescents, and many others. I don’t remember how I got a record player, but once I did I fell in love.

The anger. I remember that the most. That and the goose bumps I felt when the anger pumping through the speakers penetrated my ears and down into my veins. Those guys (and some gals) were really pissed off. And so was I. It would take me many, many years to know what I was so pissed off about, but at that time, I felt good. I felt complete. I felt ok. If these bands could make a record and be so pissed off then it was ok for me to be pissed too. So, I did what every kid that falls in love with punk rock at first listen does: I knew I had to join a band.

This was in late 1992 to 1993. And punk rock and ska were experiencing a resurgence (known as the 3rd wave), and Orange County, California was the epicenter. Plenty of kids at that time got introduced or reintroduced to punk rock. There were shows everywhere: The Ice House in Fullerton, the Barn at UC Riverside, Old World Hall in Huntington Beach, the 8 & 1/2 Club in Placentia and various other venues scattered throughout Orange County and the Inland Empire. It was a glorious time, was one of the best times to be alive, in my opinion…except for the skinheads. More on that later.

I will fill in the rest of the gaps and the story as this series progresses. But, this is not an autobiography. As I wrote the film, I took a very deep dive into many of the topics I touch upon, however briefly, in my script, and I want to analyze them in this series.

For example, I learned a lot about the history of skinheads and their connection with punk rock. I also learned a lot about the history of Immigration laws and why Arabs are “legally” white thanks to some court cases in the early 1900s. I also learned a lot about the Oklahoma City Bombing. Here is the current list of future articles I plan to write in this series (in no particular order):

• Punk history: the roots, the 1970s, 1980s;
• Orange County: a little history;
• Arabs as white people/the economic value of being white today compared to 100 years ago;
• The 1980s and 1990s as an young Arab kid;
• Skinheads and white supremacists: Some history and current status in America;
• The 3rd wave of ska/punk, Orange County and the 1990s;
• The Oklahoma City Bombing;
• College for me through 9/11 through the 2000s; and
• White Like Me and what it takes to write a script and the resources I used. Diversity in Hollywood.

This will be a limited series of articles, though if this has legs, maybe there will be more.

So, what is my goal? I have no clue if my movie is going to be made. But I didn’t write it for Hollywood stardom. I wrote it to hopefully reach one kid out there. Help them go through the issues of self hate. And realize you have no control. Maybe I can help a kid or two avoid doing something stupid to themselves or to others.

Even if the movie doesn’t get made I still want to help. And Medium is one way to reach a wide audience.