What do you think when you look at me? A woman of faith? An expert? Maybe even a sister. Or oppressed, brainwashed, a terrorist. Or just an airport security line delay. That one's actually true.
Što pomislite kada me ugledate? Žena vjernica? Stručnjakinja? Možda čak i sestra. Ili potlačena, ispranog mozga, teroristkinja. Ili samo da je odgođena provjera sigurnosti u zračnoj luci. Ovo zadnje je zapravo i točno.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
If some of your perceptions were negative, I don't really blame you. That's just how the media has been portraying people who look like me. One study found that 80 percent of news coverage about Islam and Muslims is negative. And studies show that Americans say that most don't know a Muslim. I guess people don't talk to their Uber drivers.
Ako ste pomislili nešto negativno, ne krivim vas za to. Jer mediji prikazuju negativnim osobe koje izgledaju poput mene. Jedno istraživanje pokazuje da je 80 posto vijesti o islamu i muslimanima negativno. I pokazuju da Amerikanci većinom kažu da ne poznaju nijednog muslimana. Valjda ne pričaju s taksi vozačima.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
Well, for those of you who have never met a Muslim, it's great to meet you. Let me tell you who I am. I'm a mom, a coffee lover -- double espresso, cream on the side. I'm an introvert. I'm a wannabe fitness fanatic. And I'm a practicing, spiritual Muslim. But not like Lady Gaga says, because baby, I wasn't born this way. It was a choice.
Pa, za sve vas koji nikad niste upoznali muslimana, lijepo je upoznati vas. Reći ću vam tko sam ja. Ja sam majka, ljubiteljica kave, duplog esspressa s vrhnjem. Ja sam introvert. Uvijek fantaziram da ću se početi baviti fitnesom. I ja sam praktična, duhovna muslimanka. Ali ne kao što Lady Gaga kaže, jer dušo, nisam rođena ovakva. To je bio moj izbor.
When I was 17, I decided to come out. No, not as a gay person like some of my friends, but as a Muslim, and decided to start wearing the hijab, my head covering. My feminist friends were aghast: "Why are you oppressing yourself?" The funny thing was, it was actually at that time a feminist declaration of independence from the pressure I felt as a 17-year-old, to conform to a perfect and unattainable standard of beauty. I didn't just passively accept the faith of my parents. I wrestled with the Quran. I read and reflected and questioned and doubted and, ultimately, believed. My relationship with God -- it was not love at first sight. It was a trust and a slow surrender that deepened with every reading of the Quran. Its rhythmic beauty sometimes moves me to tears. I see myself in it. I feel that God knows me. Have you ever felt like someone sees you, completely understands you and yet loves you anyway? That's how it feels.
Kad sam imala 17 godina, odlučila sam priznati tko sam. Ali ne priznati da sam gej, kao neki moji prijatelji, već da sam muslimanka, i odlučula sam početi nositi hidžab, veo na glavi. Moje prijateljice feministkinje bile su užasnute: "Zašto se ponižavaš?" Što je smiješno, jer to je bilo baš u vrijeme feminističke nezavisnosti od pritiska kojeg sam osjećala kao sedamnaestogodišnjakinja da se prilagodim savršenom i nedostižnom standardu ljepote. Nisam samo pasivno prihvatila vjeru svojih roditelja. Borila sam se s Kuranom. Čitala sam, razmišljala, propitkivala i sumnjala i konačno, povjerovala. Moja veza s Bogom nije bila ljubav na prvi pogled. To je bilo povjerenje i sporo predanje koje se produbljivalo svakim čitanjem Kurana. Ljepota Kurana me ponekad dotakne do suza. Vidim sebe u njemu. Osjećam da me Bog poznaje. Jeste li ikada osjećali da vas netko vidi i potpuno razumije, i voli vas unatoč svemu? To je takav osjećaj.
And so later, I got married, and like all good Egyptians, started my career as an engineer.
I tako, kasnije sam se udala, i poput svih dobrih Egipćanki, počela svoju karijeru u graditeljstvu.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
I later had a child, after getting married, and I was living essentially the Egyptian-American dream.
Zatim sam dobila dijete, nakon što sam se udala, i, u biti, živjela sam američko-egipćanski san.
And then that terrible morning of September, 2001. I think a lot of you probably remember exactly where you were that morning. I was sitting in my kitchen finishing breakfast, and I look up on the screen and see the words "Breaking News." There was smoke, airplanes flying into buildings, people jumping out of buildings. What was this? An accident? A malfunction? My shock quickly turned to outrage. Who would do this? And I switch the channel and I hear,
I onda, to užasno jutro, u rujnu 2001. Mislim da se većina vas sjeća gdje ste točno bili tog jutra. Ja sam sjedila u kuhinji, završavala doručak, i pogledala u ekran, gdje je pisalo "Izvanredne vijesti." Vidjela sam dim, avione koji lete u zgrade, ljude koji skaču iz zgrada. Što je to bilo? Nesreća? Kvar? Moj šok se ubrzo pretvorio u bijes. Tko bi to učinio? I prebacim program i čujem
"... Muslim terrorist ...," "... in the name of Islam ...," "... Middle-Eastern descent ...," "... jihad ...," "... we should bomb Mecca." Oh my God.
"... muslimanski terorist ...," "... u ime islama ...," "... iz Bliskog istoka ...," "... džihad ...," "... trebali bismo bombardirati Meku." O moj Bože.
Not only had my country been attacked, but in a flash, somebody else's actions had turned me from a citizen to a suspect.
Ne samo da je moja zemlja napadnuta, već u jednom trenutku, nečije tuđe radnje su me pretvorile iz obične građanke u sumnjivca.
That same day, we had to drive across Middle America to move to a new city to start grad school. And I remember sitting in the passenger seat as we drove in silence, crouched as low as I could go in my seat, for the first time in my life, afraid for anyone to know I was a Muslim.
Tog istog dana, vozili smo se kroz srednju Ameriku, selili u drugi grad zbog početka studija. Sjećam se da sam sjedila na suvozačkom sjedalu, dok smo se vozili u tišini i spustila sam se jako nisko da me nitko ne vidi, jer sam se po prvi put u životu bojala da drugi znaju da sam muslimanka.
We moved into our apartment that night in a new town in what felt like a completely different world. And then I was hearing and seeing and reading warnings from national Muslim organizations saying things like, "Be alert," "Be aware," "Stay in well-lit areas," "Don't congregate."
Preselili smo se u stan te noći u novom gradu i osjećali smo se kao da smo u drugom svijetu. Zatim sam čula, vidjela i čitala upozorenja nacionalnih organizacija muslimana koje su govorile da "budemo oprezni." "Idite dobro osvjetljenim ulicama," "Ne idite u grupama."
I stayed inside all week. And then it was Friday that same week, the day that Muslims congregate for worship. And again the warnings were, "Don't go that first Friday, it could be a target." And I was watching the news, wall-to-wall coverage. Emotions were so raw, understandably, and I was also hearing about attacks on Muslims, or people who were perceived to be Muslim, being pulled out and beaten in the street. Mosques were actually firebombed. And I thought, we should just stay home.
Ostala sam u stanu cijeli tjedan. I onda je došao petak, dan kad se muslimani skupljaju na molitvu. Opet su upozoravali da se ne okupljamo tog petka, jer bismo mogli biti meta. Gledala sam sve vijesti. Razumljivo, emocije su bile jake, i čula sam o napadima na muslimane, ili ljude koji su izgledali kao muslimani, koje su izvukli i pretukli na cesti. Bombardirali su džamije. I ja sam mislila da bismo trebali ostati kod kuće.
And yet, something didn't feel right. Because those people who attacked our country attacked our country. I get it that people were angry at the terrorists. Guess what? So was I. And so to have to explain yourself all the time isn't easy. I don't mind questions. I love questions. It's the accusations that are tough.
Ali ipak, nešto tu nije bilo u redu. Jer ti ljudi koji su napali našu zemlju, napali su našu zemlju. Razumijem da su ljudi ljuti na teroriste. Pogodite što? I ja sam bila ljuta. I to što se moram stalno objašnjavati i ispričavati nije lako. Ne smetaju mi pitanja, volim ih. Teška su mi optuživanja.
Today we hear people actually saying things like, "There's a problem in this country, and it's called Muslims. When are we going to get rid of them?" So, some people want to ban Muslims and close down mosques. They talk about my community kind of like we're a tumor in the body of America. And the only question is, are we malignant or benign? You know, a malignant tumor you extract altogether, and a benign tumor you just keep under surveillance.
Danas možemo čuti kako ljudi govore "Imamo problem u ovoj zemlji, a to su muslimani. Kad ćemo ih se rješiti?" Neki ljudi žele izbaciti muslimane i zatvoriti džamije. Oni govore o nama kao da smo tumor u tijelu Amerike. I jedino pitanje je, jesmo li dobroćudni ili zloćudni? Znate, zloćudni tumor izvadite cijelog, a dobroćudni samo držite pod nadzorom.
The choices don't make sense, because it's the wrong question. Muslims, like all other Americans, aren't a tumor in the body of America, we're a vital organ.
Izbori nemaju smisla, jer je to krivo pitanje. Muslimani, kao svi drugi Amerikanci, nisu tumor u tijelu Amerike, mi smo vitalni organ.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Muslims are inventors and teachers, first responders and Olympic athletes.
Muslimani su izumitelji i učitelji, policajci i atletičari.
Now, is closing down mosques going to make America safer? It might free up some parking spots, but it will not end terrorism. Going to a mosque regularly is actually linked to having more tolerant views of people of other faiths and greater civic engagement. And as one police chief in the Washington, DC area recently told me, people don't actually get radicalized at mosques. They get radicalized in their basement or bedroom, in front of a computer. And what you find about the radicalization process is it starts online, but the first thing that happens is the person gets cut off from their community, from even their family, so that the extremist group can brainwash them into believing that they, the terrorists, are the true Muslims, and everyone else who abhors their behavior and ideology are sellouts or apostates. So if we want to prevent radicalization, we have to keep people going to the mosque.
Dakle, hoće li zatvaranje džamija učiniti Ameriku sigurnijom? Taj potez može osloboditi neka parkirna mjesta, ali neće zaustaviti terorizam. Čest odlazak u džamiju zapravo je povezan s otvorenijim pogledima na ljude drugih vjeroispovijesti i većim građanskim angažmanom. I kao što mi je šef policije za područje Washington DC-a nedavno rekao, ljudi ne postaju radikalni u džamijama. Postaju radikalni u svojim podrumima, spavaćim sobama, ispred kompjutera. I ono što možete saznati o tome kako ljudi postanu radikalni jest da to počinje na internetu, ali prva stvar koja se događa jest da se osoba izdvoji iz zajednice, čak i iz svoje obitelji, kako bi im ekstremisti mogli isprati mozak i učiniti da povjeruju da su oni, teroristi, istinski muslimani, a svi drugi koji mrze njihovo ponašanje i ideologiju, oni su izdajnici ili otpadnici. Zato, ako želimo sprječiti radikalizaciju, moramo poticati ljude da nastave ići u džamije.
Now, some will still argue Islam is a violent religion. After all, a group like ISIS bases its brutality on the Quran. Now, as a Muslim, as a mother, as a human being, I think we need to do everything we can to stop a group like ISIS. But we would be giving in to their narrative if we cast them as representatives of a faith of 1.6 billion people.
Neki još govore da je islam religija puna nasilja. Ipak, ISIL temelji svoju brutalnost na Kuranu. Ja, kao muslimanka, majka, ljudsko biće, mislim da trebamo učitini sve što možemo kako bismo zaustavili ISIL. Ali mi bismo bili prevareni kad bismo ih gledali kao predstavnike vjere 1.6 milijardi ljudi.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
ISIS has as much to do with Islam as the Ku Klux Klan has to do with Christianity.
ISIL ima veze s islamom kao što Ku Klux Klan ima veze s kršćanstvom.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Both groups claim to base their ideology on their holy book. But when you look at them, they're not motivated by what they read in their holy book. It's their brutality that makes them read these things into the scripture.
Obje grupe tvrde da svoju ideologiju temelje na svetoj knjizi. Ali kad vidite što čine, oni nisu motivirani onime što čitaju u svojoj svetoj knjizi. Njihova brutalnost ih tjera da čitaju te dijelove knjiga.
Recently, a prominent imam told me a story that really took me aback. He said that a girl came to him because she was thinking of going to join ISIS. And I was really surprised and asked him, had she been in contact with a radical religious leader? And he said the problem was quite the opposite, that every cleric that she had talked to had shut her down and said that her rage, her sense of injustice in the world, was just going to get her in trouble. And so with nowhere to channel and make sense of this anger, she was a prime target to be exploited by extremists promising her a solution. What this imam did was to connect her back to God and to her community. He didn't shame her for her rage -- instead, he gave her constructive ways to make real change in the world. What she learned at that mosque prevented her from going to join ISIS.
Nedavno mi je poznati imam ispričao priču koja me iznenadila. Rekao je da mu je prišla djevojka jer je razmišljala o tome da se pridruži ISILu. Bila sam iznenađena i pitala sam ga je li ona bila u kontaktu s nekim radikalnim religijskim vođom. On je rekao da je problem upravo suprotan tome i da ju je svaki svećenik s kojim je razgovarala pokušao odgovoriti i rekao joj da će ju njen bijes i osjećaj nepravednosti u svijetu samo dovesti u nevolju. Nije znala kanalizirati taj svoj bijes i bila je odlična meta da ju iskoriste ekstremisti i ponude joj rješenje. Taj imam ju je ponovno povezao s Bogom i zajednicom. Nije ju posramio jer je bila ljuta, već joj je pokazao konstruktivne načine da pokrene prave promjene u svijetu. Ono što je naučila u toj džamiji sprječilo ju je da se pridruži ISILu.
I've told you a little bit about how Islamophobia affects me and my family. But how does it impact ordinary Americans? How does it impact everyone else? How does consuming fear 24 hours a day affect the health of our democracy, the health of our free thought?
Pričala sam vam malo o tome kako islamofobija utječe na mene i moju obitelj. Ali kako utječe na Amerikance? Kako utječe na sve ostale? Kako konstantni strah utječe na zdravlje naše demokracije, zdravlje slobodnog mišljenja?
Well, one study -- actually, several studies in neuroscience -- show that when we're afraid, at least three things happen. We become more accepting of authoritarianism, conformity and prejudice. One study showed that when subjects were exposed to news stories that were negative about Muslims, they became more accepting of military attacks on Muslim countries and policies that curtail the rights of American Muslims.
Nekoliko istraživanja u neuroznanosti pokazuju da se najmanje 3 stvari događaju dok se bojimo. Lakše prihvaćamo autoritet, konformizam i predrasude. Jedno istraživanje je pokazalo da ljudi koji su izloženi vijestima koje govore negativno o muslimanima lakše prihvaćaju vojne napade na muslimanske zemlje i zakone koji ograničavaju prava američkih muslimana.
Now, this isn't just academic. When you look at when anti-Muslim sentiment spiked between 2001 and 2013, it happened three times, but it wasn't around terrorist attacks. It was in the run up to the Iraq War and during two election cycles. So Islamophobia isn't just the natural response to Muslim terrorism as I would have expected. It can actually be a tool of public manipulation, eroding the very foundation of a free society, which is rational and well-informed citizens. Muslims are like canaries in the coal mine. We might be the first to feel it, but the toxic air of fear is harming us all.
Sada, to nije samo akademsko. Kada pogledate kada je anti-muslimanski sentiment bio na vrhu između 2001. i 2013. godine, dogodilo se tri puta, ali to nije bilo oko terorističkih napada. Bilo je to u kulminaciji do rata u Iraku i tijekom dva izborna ciklusa. Dakle islamofobija nije samo prirodni odgovor na muslimanski terorizam kao što sam očekivala. To zapravo može biti alat javne manipulacije, nagrizajući same temelje slobodnog društva, koje predstavljaju racionalni i dobro informirani građani. Muslimani su kao kanarinci u rudniku ugljena. Možemo biti prvi koji će to osjetiti, ali toksični zrak straha šteti nama svima.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
And assigning collective guilt isn't just about having to explain yourself all the time. Deah and his wife Yusor were a young married couple living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where they both went to school. Deah was an athlete. He was in dental school, talented, promising ... And his sister would tell me that he was the sweetest, most generous human being she knew. She was visiting him there and he showed her his resume, and she was amazed. She said, "When did my baby brother become such an accomplished young man?" Just a few weeks after Suzanne's visit to her brother and his new wife, their neighbor, Craig Stephen Hicks, murdered them, as well as Yusor's sister, Razan, who was visiting for the afternoon, in their apartment, execution style, after posting anti-Muslim statements on his Facebook page. He shot Deah eight times. So bigotry isn't just immoral, it can even be lethal.
A dodjela kolektivne krivnje nije samo objašnjavati svoje postupke cijelo vrijeme. Deah i njegova supruga Yusor bili su mladi bračni par koji su živjeli u Chapel Hillu, u Sjevernoj Karolini, gdje su oboje išli u školu. Deah je bio sportaš. Bio je na stomatološkom fakultetu, talentiran, perspektivan ... I njegova sestra bi mi rekla kako je on bio najslađe, najizdašnije ljudsko biće koje je znala. Ona mu je došla tamo u posjetu a on joj je pokazao svoj životopis, i bila je izvan sebe. Rekla je: "Kada je moj mali brat postao takav vrstan mladić? " Samo nekoliko tjedana nakon što je Suzanne posjetila svog brata i njegovu novu suprugu, njihov susjed, Craig Stephen Hicks, ih je ubio, kao i Yusorinu sestru, Razan, koja je bila u posjeti to popodne, u njihovom stanu, u stilu smaknuća, nakon objavljivanja anti-muslimanske izjave na svojoj Facebook stranici. Upucao je Deaha osam puta. Dakle fanatizam nije samo nemoralan, može čak i biti smrtonosan.
So, back to my story. What happened after 9/11? Did we go to the mosque or did we play it safe and stay home? Well, we talked it over, and it might seem like a small decision, but to us, it was about what kind of America we wanted to leave for our kids: one that would control us by fear or one where we were practicing our religion freely. So we decided to go to the mosque. And we put my son in his car seat, buckled him in, and we drove silently, intensely, to the mosque. I took him out, I took off my shoes, I walked into the prayer hall and what I saw made me stop. The place was completely full. And then the imam made an announcement, thanking and welcoming our guests, because half the congregation were Christians, Jews, Buddhists, atheists, people of faith and no faith, who had come not to attack us, but to stand in solidarity with us.
Dakle, natrag na moju priču. Što se dogodilo nakon 9/11? Hoćemo li ići u džamiju ili ćemo igrati na sigurno i ostati kod kuće? Dakle, porazgovarali smo o tome, i to se može činiti kao mala odluka, ali za nas, bilo je o tome kakvu Ameriku smo htjeli ostaviti našoj djeci: onu koja će nas kontrolirati putem straha ili onu gdje ćemo slobodno prakticirati našu vjeru. Tako da smo odlučili ići u džamiju. I stavili smo mog sina u njegovu sjedalicu, zakopčali pojas i odvezli smo se u tišini, intenzivno, u džamiju. Uzela sam ga van, skinula sam cipele, ušla sam u molitvenu dvoranu i ono što sam vidjela me prisililo da se zaustavim. Dvorana je bila potpuno puna. I onda je imam napravio najavu, zahvalio i poželio dobrodošlicu našim gostima, jer pola zajednice su bili Kršćani, Židovi, Budisti, ateisti, ljudi vjere i bez vjere, koji nisu došli da nas napadnu, već da stoje u solidarnosti s nama.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
I just break down at this time. These people were there because they chose courage and compassion over panic and prejudice.
Tada sam se jednostavno slomila. Ti ljudi su bili tamo jer su izabrali hrabrost i suosjećanje umjesto panike i predrasuda.
What will you choose? What will you choose at this time of fear and bigotry? Will you play it safe? Or will you join those who say we are better than that?
Što ćete vi odabrati? Što ćete vi odabrati u ovom trenutku straha i predrasuda? Hoćete li igrati na sigurno? Ili ćete se pridružiti onima koji kažu mi smo bolji od toga?
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you so much.
Hvala vam puno.
Helen Walters: So Dalia, you seem to have struck a chord. But I wonder, what would you say to those who might argue that you're giving a TED Talk, you're clearly a deep thinker, you work at a fancy think tank, you're an exception, you're not the rule. What would you say to those people?
Helen Walters: Dakle Dalia, čini se da si pogodila u žicu. Ali, pitam se, što bi rekla onima koji bi mogli tvrditi da držiš govor na TED-u, da so dubokoumna osoba, da radiš u otmjenom think-tanku, da si iznimka, a ne pravilo. Što bi rekla tim ljudima?
Dalia Mogahed: I would say, don't let this stage distract you, I'm completely ordinary. I'm not an exception. My story is not unusual. I am as ordinary as they come. When you look at Muslims around the world -- and I've done this, I've done the largest study ever done on Muslims around the world -- people want ordinary things. They want prosperity for their family, they want jobs and they want to live in peace. So I am not in any way an exception. When you meet people who seem like an exception to the rule, oftentimes it's that the rule is broken, not that they're an exception to it.
Dalia Mogahed: Ja bih rekla, ne dopustite ovoj pozornici da vas odvrati, ja sam potpuno normalna. Ja nisam iznimka. Moja priča nije neobična. Ja sam kao običan da običnija ne mogu biti. Kada pogledate muslimane diljem svijeta -- i ja sam to napravila, napravila sam najveće istraživanje ikada učinjeno nad muslimanima diljem svijeta -- ljudi žele obične stvari. Oni žele prosperitet za svoje obitelji, oni žele radna mjesta i oni žele živjeti u miru. Tako da ja nisam ni u kojem smislu, iznimka. Kada susretne ljude koji se čine kao iznimka od pravila, često je to pravilo slomljeno, a ne da su oni iznimka tog pravila.
HW: Thank you so much. Dalia Mogahed.
HW: Hvala ti puno. Dalia Mogahed.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)