I have a beard. A thick black beard, a monobrow, a shark-fin nose, and caramel skin. I look undeniably Arab. I’ve been held-up in airports in L.A, Tel Aviv and Wellington. I speak Arabic, I wear a gold chain that Mum bought me from Tripoli, I have a tattoo of Horus on one arm and a Phoenician sun symbol on the other. When people ask where I am from, I say Australia. When they ask what my ethnicity is, I say Lebanese. I look Lebanese, I sound Australian.