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.
Šta pomislite kad me pogledate? Da sam vernica? Ekspertkinja? Možda čak i sestra. Ili potlačena žena, ispranog mozga, teroristkinja. Ili sam prosto razlog za kašnjenje zbog bezbednosti na aerodromu. Poslednje je zapravo istina.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
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 su poimanja nekih od vas negativna, uistinu vas ne krivim. Tako prosto mediji prikazuju ljude koji izgledaju kao ja. Jedno istraživanje je otkrilo da je 80 procenata vesti o islamu i muslimanima negativno. A istraživanja su pokazala da Amerikanci većinom tvrde da ne znaju ni jednog muslimana. Izgleda da ljudi ne razgovaraju sa vozačima iz firme Uber.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
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, svi vi koji nikad niste upoznali ni jednog muslimana, drago mi je što smo se upoznali. Dozvolite mi da se predstavim. Ja sam majka, ljubiteljka kafe - duplog espresa sa šlagom. Introvert sam. Želja mi je da budem fitnes fanatik. I vernica sam, produhovljena muslimanka. Ali ne u fazonu Lejdi Gage jer, dušo, nisam rođena ovakva. To je bio 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 mi je bilo 17 godina, odlučila sam da to obznanim. Ne, ne da sam gej kao neki moji prijatelji već da sam muslimanka, te sam počela da nosim hidžab, da pokrivam glavu. Moji prijatelji feministi su bili zgroženi: "Zašto tlačiš samu sebe?" Smešno je bilo da je to zapravo, u to vreme, bila feministička objava nezavisnosti od pritisaka koje sam osećala kao 17-ogodišnjakinja, koji su me terali da se povinujem savršenim i nedostižnim idealima lepote. Nisam prosto pasivno prihvatala veru mojih roditelja. Mučila sam muku s Kuranom. Čitala sam i razmišljala i dovodila u pitanje i sumnjala i, na kraju, verovala. Moj odnos s Bogom - nije to bila ljubav na prvi pogled. Bilo je to poverenje i sporo predavanje koje se produbljavalo svakim čitanjem Kurana. Njegova ritmična lepota me ponekad gane do suza. Pronalazim se u njemu. Osećam da me Bog poznaje. Da li ste ikad imali osećaj da vas neko vidi, razume u potpunosti, a ipak vas voli? To je takav osećaj.
And so later, I got married, and like all good Egyptians, started my career as an engineer.
Pa sam se kasnije udala i kao i svaki uzorni Egipćanin započela sam karijeru kao inženjer.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
I later had a child, after getting married, and I was living essentially the Egyptian-American dream.
Kasnije sam dobila dete, nakon što sam se udala i u suštini sam živela egipatsko-američki 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,
A onda je došlo to užasno jutro septembra 2001. Verujem da se većina vas verovatno seća tačno gde ste bili tog jutra. Ja sam sedela u mojoj kuhinji, dovršavala doručak, a kad sam pogledala u ekran, videla sam reči: "Najnovije vesti". Video se dim, avioni kako uleću u zgrade, ljudi kako iskaču iz zgrada. Šta se dešavalo? Nesreća? Kvar? Moja zaprepašćenost je brzo prešla u bes. Ko bi ovo učinio? I promenila sam kanal i čula:
"... Muslim terrorist ...," "... in the name of Islam ...," "... Middle-Eastern descent ...," "... jihad ...," "... we should bomb Mecca." Oh my God.
"...muslimanski teroristi...", "...u ime islama...", "...ljudi poreklom sa Srednjeg Istoka...", "...džihad...", "...bombardujmo Meku." O, moj gospode.
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 država napadnuta, već su brzinom munje nečija dela pretvorila mene iz građanke u osumnjičenu.
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 dana smo morali da prođemo kroz središnju Ameriku kako bi se preselili u novi grad zbog škole. I sećam se kako sam sedela na mestu suvozača dok smo se vozili u tišini, pognuta što sam više mogla u svom sedištu, prvi put u životu me je bilo strah da će neko da primeti 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 te noći u novi stan u novom gradu, i činilo se u potpunosti u drugi svet. A potom sam slušala, gledala i čitala upozorenja nacionalnih muslimanskih organizacija, govorili su stvari poput: "Budite na oprezu", "Pazite se", "Držite se dobro osvetljenih područja", "Ne okupljajte se."
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.
Nisam izlazila celu sedmicu. A onda je došao petak, iste te sedmice, dan kad se muslimani okupljaju na molitvu. I opet su stizala upozorenja: "Ne idite odmah prvog petka, mogli biste da budete meta." A ja sam posmatrala vesti, celodnevno izveštavanje. Emocije su bile sveže, razumljivo, i takođe sam slušala o napadima na muslimane ili o ljudima koje su videli kao muslimane kako ih odvlače i tuku na ulicama. Džamije su zapravo gađane zapaljivim bombama. Pomislila sam: najbolje da ne izlazimo.
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.
Pa ipak, nešto tu nije štimalo. Jer ti ljudi koji su napali našu državu, napali su našu državu. Bilo mi je shvatljivo da su ljudi besni na teroriste. Znate šta? I ja sam bila besna. A nije lako kad ste primorani da se stalno pravdate. Ne smetaju mi pitanja. Volim pitanja. Optužbe su teške.
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 slušamo ljude kako zapravo izgovaraju sledeće: "Imamo problem u ovoj zemlji, a on se zove - muslimani. Kad ćemo da ih se otarasimo?" Stoga neki ljudi žele da zabrane muslimane i da pozatvaraju džamije. Govore o mojoj zajednici kao da smo nekakav tumor u američkom telu. A jedino pitanje je: jesmo li maligni ili benigni? Znate, maligni tumor u potpunosti izvadite, a benigni tumor prosto 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.
Ponuđeni izbori nemaju smisla jer je samo pitanje pogrešno. Muslimani, poput drugih Amerikanaca, nisu tumor u američkom telu, mi smo vitalni organ.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Muslims are inventors and teachers, first responders and Olympic athletes.
Muslimani su pronalazači i učitelji, pripadnici hitnih službi i olimpijske atlete.
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.
Sad, da li bi zatvaranjem džamija Amerika bila sigurnija? To bi oslobodilo nešto prostora za parkiranje, ali ne bi okončalo terorizam. Redovan odlazak u džamiju je zapravo povezan s posedovanjem tolerantnijih pogleda na ljude drugih veroispovesti i s većim građanskim angažmanom. I kao što mi je jedan šef policije iz oblasti grada Vašingtona nedavno rekao, ljude zapravo ne radikalizuju u džamijama. Radikalizuju ih u njihovim podrumima ili spavaćim sobama, ispred kompjutera. A ono što ćete da otkrijete o procesu radikalizacije je da počinje na internetu, ali prvo što se desi je da tu osobu isključe iz zajednice, čak i iz porodice, kako bi im ekstremističke grupe mogle da isperu mozak da poveruju kako su oni, teroristi, istinski muslimani, a da su svi ostali koji mrze njihovo ponašanje i ideologiju prodane duše i otpadnici. Pa, ako želimo da sprečimo radikalizaciju, moramo da pustimo ljude da idu 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.
Sad, neki će i dalje da tvrde da je islam nasilna religija. Naposletku, grupe poput ISIS-a zasnivaju svoju brutalnost na Kuranu. Sad, kao muslimanka, kao majka, kao ljudsko biće, mislim da moramo da damo sve od sebe da zaustavimo grupe poput ISIS-a. Međutim, povinovali bismo se njihovom narativu kad bismo ih proglasili zastupnicima vere 1,6 milijardi ljudi.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
ISIS has as much to do with Islam as the Ku Klux Klan has to do with Christianity.
ISIS ima veze sa islamom koliko i Kju Klaks klan sa hrišćanstvom.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
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.
Obe grupe tvrde da zasnivaju svoju ideologiju na svetoj knjizi. Međutim, kad ih pogledate, njih ne podstiče ono što pročitaju u svetoj knjizi. Njihova surovost ih navodi da svašta učitaju u Sveto pismo.
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 ugledni imam ispričao priču koja me je uistinu iznenadila. Rekao je kako mu je prišla devojka jer je razmišljala da se pridruži ISIS-u. Bila sam zaista iznenađena i upitala sam ga: je li bila u kontaktu s radikalnim religijskim vođom? A on je rakao da je u pitanju nešto sasvim drugo: svaki sveštenik s kojim je razgovarala ju je odbio i rekao da će je njen bes, njeno osećanje nepravde u svetu samo odvesti u neprilike. A kako nije imala gde da kanališe svoj bes i da ga razume, ona je bila glavna meta za eksploatisanje od strane ekstremista koji su joj nudili rešenje. Ovaj imam je povezao opet s Bogom i s njenom zajednicom. Nije je postidio zbog njenog besa - naprotiv, pružio joj je svrsishodne načine da uistinu promeni svet. Ono što je naučila u džamiji ju je sprečilo da se pridruži ISIS-u.
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?
Rekla sam vam ponešto o tome kako islamofobija pogađa mene i moju porodicu. No kako utiče na prosečnog Amerikanca? Kako utiče na sve ostale? Kako konstantno konzumiranje straha utiče na zdravlje naše demokratije, na zdravlje naše slobode misli?
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.
Pa, jedno istraživanje - zapravo, nekoliko istraživanja iz neuronauke - su pokazala da kad smo uplašeni bar tri stvari se dešavaju. Podložniji smo prihvatanju autoritarnosti, konformizma i predrasuda. Jedno istraživanje je pokazalo da kad su subjekti izloženi vestima koje govore o muslianima negativno, podložniji su prihvatanju vojnih napada na muslimanske zemlje i zakona koji umanjuju 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.
Sad, ovo nije puki intelektualizam. Kad pogledate kad su antimuslimanska osećanja dostigla vrhunac, između 2001. i 2013, to se desilo tri puta, ali ne zbog terorističkih napada. To je prethodilo ratu u Iraku i desilo se tokom dva kruga izbora. Pa, islamofobija nije prosto prirodna reakcija na muslimanske teroriste kao što sam očekivala. Ona zapravo može da bude oruđe za manipulisanje javnošću, koje podriva same temelje slobodnog društva, to jest racionalne i dobro obaveštene građane. Muslimani su poput kanarinaca u rudniku uglja. Možda ga prvi osećamo, ali otrovni vazduh straha povređuje sve nas.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
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 kod pripisivanja kolektivne krivice se ne radi samo o primoranosti da se pravdate sve vreme. Dea i njegova žena Jusor su bili mladi bračni par živeli su Čapel Hilu u Severnoj Karolini, gde su oboje nekad išli u školu. Dea je bio atleta. Pohađao je stomatologiju, bio je talentovan, potencijal... A njegova sestra mi je rekla da je bio najtoplije, najdarežljivije ljudsko biće koje je znala. Došla mu je u posetu i on joj je pokazao svoju biografiju i ona je bila oduševljena. Rekla je: "Kad je moj maleni brat postao tako uspešan mladić?" Samo nekoliko nedelja nakon Suzanine posete bratu i njegovoj ženi, njihov komšija, Kreg Stiven Hiks, ih je ubio, kao i Jusurinu sestru Razan, koja ih je posetila tog popodneva, u njihovom stanu, u stilu smaknuća, nakon što je objavio antimuslimanske izjave na svojoj Fejsbuk stranici. S pet hitaca je pogodio Dea. Netrepeljivost, dakle, nije samo nemoralna, može da bude i smrtonosna.
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.
Vratimo se mojoj priči. Šta se desilo nakon 11. septembra? Da li smo otišli u džamiju ili smo išli na sigurno i ostali u kući? Pa, razgovarali smo o tome i možda vam se to čini kao jednostavna odluka, ali za nas radilo se o tome kakvu Ameriku želimo da ostavimo svojoj deci: onu koja će da nas kontroliše strahom ili onu u kojoj slobodno ispovedamo svoju religiju. Pa smo odlučili da odemo u džamiju. Stavili smo sina u njegovo auto-sedište, vezali ga i vozili se u tišini, usredsređeno u džamiju. Iznela sam ga, izula svoje cipele, ušetala u salu za molitve, a zastala sam zbog prizora. Mesto je bilo popunjeno. A onda je imam objavio zahvalnost i dobrodošlicu našim gostima jer polovina okupljenih su bili hrišćani, Jevreji, budisti, ateisti, vernici i nevernici, koji su došli, ne da bi nas napali, već da bi se solidarisali s nama.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
I just break down at this time. These people were there because they chose courage and compassion over panic and prejudice.
U tom momentu sam bila skrhana. Ovi ljudi su bili tu jer su odabrali hrabrost i saosećajnost umesto 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?
Šta ćete vi da odaberete? Šta ćete vi da odaberete u ovom vremenu straha i netrepeljivosti? Hoćete li ići na sigurno? Ili ćete da se pridružite onima koji govore da smo bolji od toga?
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Thank you so much.
Mnogo vam hvala.
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 Volters: Dakle, Dalija, izgleda da si pogodila u metu. Međutim, pitam se šta bi rekla onima koji bi možda tvrdili kako držiš govor na TED-u, da si očito ozbiljan mislilac, radiš u modernom sektoru za inovacije, da si izuzetak, a ne pravilo. Šta 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.
Dalija Mogahed: Rekla bih im da ne dozvole da ih ova scena zbuni, ja sam skroz obična. Nisam izuzetak. Moja priča nije neobična. Najobičniji sam tip. Kad pogledate muslimane širom sveta - a ja jesam, uradila sam najveće istraživanje ikad o muslimanima širom sveta - ti ljudi žele obične stvari. Žele napredak svojoj porodici, žele da imaju posao i žele da žive u miru. Pa, ni na koji način nisam izuzetak. Kad sretnete ljude koji se čine kao izuzetak od pravila, često se radi o tome da je pravilo naopako, a ne da su oni izuzetak.
HW: Thank you so much. Dalia Mogahed.
HV: Mnogo ti hvala, Dalija Mogahed.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)