On November 5th, 1990, a man named El-Sayyid Nosair walked into a hotel in Manhattan and assassinated Rabbi Meir Kahane, the leader of the Jewish Defense League. Nosair was initially found not guilty of the murder, but while serving time on lesser charges, he and other men began planning attacks on a dozen New York City landmarks, including tunnels, synagogues and the United Nations headquarters. Thankfully, those plans were foiled by an FBI informant. Sadly, the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center was not. Nosair would eventually be convicted for his involvement in the plot. El-Sayyid Nosair is my father.
Petog studenog 1990., čovjek po imenu El-Sayyid Nosair ušetao je u hotel na Manhattanu i ubio je rabina Meira Kahanea, vođu Židovske obrambene lige. Sudska je presuda prvo bila da Nosair nije kriv za to ubojstvo, ali dok je bio u zatvoru zbog drugih optužbi, on i drugi muškarci počeli su planirati napade na desetak znamenitosti u New Yorku, uključujući tunele, sinagoge i sjedište Ujedinjenih naroda. Srećom, te je planove omeo doušnik FBI-a. Na žalost, bombaški napad na Svjetski trgovački centar iz 1993. nije. Nosair je na kraju osuđen zbog sudjelovanja u napadu. El-Sayyid Nosair je moj otac.
I was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1983 to him, an Egyptian engineer, and a loving American mother and grade school teacher, who together tried their best to create a happy childhood for me. It wasn't until I was seven years old that our family dynamic started to change. My father exposed me to a side of Islam that few people, including the majority of Muslims, get to see. It's been my experience that when people take the time to interact with one another, it doesn't take long to realize that for the most part, we all want the same things out of life. However, in every religion, in every population, you'll find a small percentage of people who hold so fervently to their beliefs that they feel they must use any means necessary to make others live as they do.
Rođen sam u Pittsburghu, u Pennsylvaniji 1983., od njega, egipatskog inženjera i brižne majke Amerikanke, učiteljice u osnovnoj školi, koji su se zajedno trudili osigurati mi sretno djetinjstvo. Tek kad sam imao sedam godina dinamika naše obitelji počela se mijenjati. Otac me izložio strani islama koju rijetki, uključujući većinu muslimana, uspiju vidjeti. Iz mojeg iskustva, kad se ljudi potrude razgovarati jedni s drugima, vrlo brzo shvate da većinom u životu svi želimo iste stvari. No ipak, u svakoj religiji, svakoj populaciji, naći ćete mali postotak ljudi koji se tako gorljivo drže svojih uvjerenja da smatraju kako moraju koristiti sva potrebna sredstva da bi natjerali druge da žive kao oni.
A few months prior to his arrest, he sat me down and explained that for the past few weekends, he and some friends had been going to a shooting range on Long Island for target practice. He told me I'd be going with him the next morning. We arrived at Calverton Shooting Range, which unbeknownst to our group was being watched by the FBI. When it was my turn to shoot, my father helped me hold the rifle to my shoulder and explained how to aim at the target about 30 yards off. That day, the last bullet I shot hit the small orange light that sat on top of the target and to everyone's surprise, especially mine, the entire target burst into flames. My uncle turned to the other men, and in Arabic said, "Ibn abuh." Like father, like son. They all seemed to get a really big laugh out of that comment, but it wasn't until a few years later that I fully understood what they thought was so funny. They thought they saw in me the same destruction my father was capable of. Those men would eventually be convicted of placing a van filled with 1,500 pounds of explosives into the sub-level parking lot of the World Trade Center's North Tower, causing an explosion that killed six people and injured over 1,000 others. These were the men I looked up to. These were the men I called ammu, which means uncle.
Nekoliko mjeseci prije njegova uhićenja, posjeo me i objasnio mi da su proteklih nekoliko vikenda on i njegovi prijatelji išli na streljanu na Long Islandu kako bi vježbali pucanje. Rekao mi je da ću sljedećeg jutra ići s njim. Stigli smo na streljanu Calverton, za koju nismo znali da je pod nadzorom FBI-a. Kad je bio moj red da pucam, otac mi je pomogao držati pušku na ramenu i pojasnio mi kako da naciljam metu koja je bila udaljena 30-ak metara. Tog dana, posljednji metak koji sam ispalio pogodio je malo narančasto svjetlo na vrhu mete i na iznenađenje svih, osobito moje, čitava meta se zapalila. Moj ujak okrenuo se drugim muškarcima i na arapskom rekao, "Ibn abuh." Kakav otac, takav sin. Svi su se dobro nasmijali zbog tog komentara, ali tek sam nekoliko godina kasnije u potpunosti shvatio što su im je bilo tako smiješno. Mislili su da u meni vide istu sposobnost uništavanja koju je imao i moj otac. Te su ljude na kraju osudili za parkiranje kombija punog eksploziva na podzemno parkiralište sjevernog tornja Svjetskog trgovačkog centra, što je prouzročilo eksploziju koja je ubila šestero ljudi i ozlijedila više od 1000 drugih. To su bili ljudi u koje sam se ugledao. Te sam muškarce zvao ammu, što znači ujak.
By the time I turned 19, I had already moved 20 times in my life, and that instability during my childhood didn't really provide an opportunity to make many friends. Each time I would begin to feel comfortable around someone, it was time to pack up and move to the next town. Being the perpetual new face in class, I was frequently the target of bullies. I kept my identity a secret from my classmates to avoid being targeted, but as it turns out, being the quiet, chubby new kid in class was more than enough ammunition. So for the most part, I spent my time at home reading books and watching TV or playing video games. For those reasons, my social skills were lacking, to say the least, and growing up in a bigoted household, I wasn't prepared for the real world. I'd been raised to judge people based on arbitrary measurements, like a person's race or religion.
Do svoje 19. godine selio sam se već 20 puta i ta nestabilnost u mojem djetinjstvu nije mi baš davala priliku da steknem prijatelje. Kad god bih se počeo ugodno osjećati s nekime, bilo je vrijeme za pakiranje i selidbu. Budući da sam uvijek bio novi u razredu, često sam bio meta nasilnicima. Tajio sam svoj identitet od kolega u razredu kako ne bi imali pik na mene, ali ispada da, ako si povučen, bucmast novi dečko u razredu, to im daje i više nego dovoljno municije. Stoga sam vrijeme većinom provodio kod kuće, čitajući knjige i gledajući TV ili igrajući videoigre. Zato su moje društvene vještine bile manjkave, da se blago izrazim, a budući da sam odrastao u zadrtom kućanstvu, nisam bio spreman za stvarni svijet. Odgojen sam da prosuđujem ljude na temelju proizvoljnih kriterija, kao što je rasa ili vjera osobe.
So what opened my eyes? One of my first experiences that challenged this way of thinking was during the 2000 presidential elections. Through a college prep program, I was able to take part in the National Youth Convention in Philadelphia. My particular group's focus was on youth violence, and having been the victim of bullying for most of my life, this was a subject in which I felt particularly passionate. The members of our group came from many different walks of life. One day toward the end of the convention, I found out that one of the kids I had befriended was Jewish. Now, it had taken several days for this detail to come to light, and I realized that there was no natural animosity between the two of us. I had never had a Jewish friend before, and frankly I felt a sense of pride in having been able to overcome a barrier that for most of my life I had been led to believe was insurmountable. Another major turning point came when I found a summer job at Busch Gardens, an amusement park. There, I was exposed to people from all sorts of faiths and cultures, and that experience proved to be fundamental to the development of my character. Most of my life, I'd been taught that homosexuality was a sin, and by extension, that all gay people were a negative influence. As chance would have it, I had the opportunity to work with some of the gay performers at a show there, and soon found that many were the kindest, least judgmental people I had ever met. Being bullied as a kid created a sense of empathy in me toward the suffering of others, and it comes very unnaturally to me to treat people who are kind in any other way than how I would want to be treated. Because of that feeling, I was able to contrast the stereotypes I'd been taught as a child with real life experience and interaction. I don't know what it's like to be gay, but I'm well acquainted with being judged for something that's beyond my control.
Što mi je otvorilo oči? Jedno od mojih prvih iskustava koje je pobijalo takav način razmišljanja bilo je tijekom predsjedničkih izbora 2000. U sklopu programa pripreme za fakultet sudjelovao sam na Nacionalnoj konvenciji mladeži u Philadelphiji. Skupina u kojoj sam bio bavila se nasiljem među mladima, a budući da sam većinu života bio žrtva nasilja, za tu sam se temu posebno zanimao. Članovi naše grupe imali su različite životne priče. Jednog dana, pred kraj konvencije, saznao sam da je jedan od mladića s kojima sam se sprijateljio Židov. Sad, trebalo je nekoliko dana da taj detalj izađe na vidjelo i shvatio sam da nema prirodnog neprijateljstva među nama. Nikad prije nisam imao prijatelja židovske vjere i iskreno, bio sam ponosan jer sam svladao prepreku za koju su me većinu života uvjeravali da je nepremostiva. Još jedna prekretnica dogodila se kad sam dobio ljetni posao u Busch Gardensu, zabavnom parku. Ondje sam bio u kontaktu s ljudima različitih vjera i kultura i to iskustvo pokazalo se ključnim za razvoj mojeg karaktera. Većinu života učili su me da je homoseksualnost grijeh, i samim time svi gay ljudi prestavljali su negativan utjecaj. Spletom okolnosti imao sam priliku raditi s nekima od gay izvođača u jednoj tamošnjoj predstavi. Ubrzo sam otkrio da su mnogi od njih tako ljubazni, ljudi s najmanje predrasuda koje sam ikad upoznao. Budući da sam kao dijete bio žrtva nasilja, suosjećao sam s patnjom drugih i nije mi prirodno ponašati se prema ljudima koji su dobri na bilo koji drugi način osim onako kako bih htio da se ponašaju prema meni. Zbog tog sam osjećaja uspio suprostaviti stereotipe kojima su me učili kao dijete pravim iskustvima i interakcijama. Ne znam kako je to biti gay, ali dobro sam upoznat s osuđivanjem zbog nečega što je izvan moje kontrole.
Then there was "The Daily Show." On a nightly basis, Jon Stewart forced me to be intellectually honest with myself about my own bigotry and helped me to realize that a person's race, religion or sexual orientation had nothing to do with the quality of one's character. He was in many ways a father figure to me when I was in desperate need of one. Inspiration can often come from an unexpected place, and the fact that a Jewish comedian had done more to positively influence my worldview than my own extremist father is not lost on me.
Tu je bila i emisija "The Daily Show". Svake me večeri voditelj Jon Stewart tjerao da budem intelektualno iskren sam sa sobom vezano za svoju zadrtost i pomogao mi je da shvatim da rasa, vjera ili seksualna orijentacija nemaju nikakve veze s kvalitetom nečijeg karaktera. On mi je po mnogočemu bio očinska figura kad mi je očajnički trebala. Inspiracija često može doći iz neočekivanih mjesta i činjenica da je židovski komičar pozitivnije utjecao na moju sliku svijeta nego moj otac ekstremist nije mi promakla.
One day, I had a conversation with my mother about how my worldview was starting to change, and she said something to me that I will hold dear to my heart for as long as I live. She looked at me with the weary eyes of someone who had experienced enough dogmatism to last a lifetime, and said, "I'm tired of hating people." In that instant, I realized how much negative energy it takes to hold that hatred inside of you.
Jednog sam dana razgovarao s majkom o tome kako se mijenja moj pogled na svijet i rekla mi je nešto što će mi biti drago dok sam živ. Pogledala me umornim očima nekoga tko je iskusio dovoljno dogmatizma za cijeli život i rekla mi je: „Umorna sam od mržnje.” U tom sam trenutku shvatio koliko je negativne energije potrebno da držite tu mržnju u sebi.
Zak Ebrahim is not my real name. I changed it when my family decided to end our connection with my father and start a new life. So why would I out myself and potentially put myself in danger? Well, that's simple. I do it in the hopes that perhaps someone someday who is compelled to use violence may hear my story and realize that there is a better way, that although I had been subjected to this violent, intolerant ideology, that I did not become fanaticized. Instead, I choose to use my experience to fight back against terrorism, against the bigotry. I do it for the victims of terrorism and their loved ones, for the terrible pain and loss that terrorism has forced upon their lives. For the victims of terrorism, I will speak out against these senseless acts and condemn my father's actions. And with that simple fact, I stand here as proof that violence isn't inherent in one's religion or race, and the son does not have to follow the ways of his father. I am not my father.
Zak Ebrahim nije moje pravo ime. Promijenio sam ga kad je moja obitelj odlučila prekinuti veze s mojim ocem i početi novi život. Zašto bih onda rekao tko sam i tako se možda doveo u opasnost? Pa, jednostavno je. Radim to u nadi da će jednog dana netko tko je prisiljen koristiti nasilje čuti moju priču i shvatiti da postoji bolji način, da, iako sam bio izložen toj nasilnoj, netolerantnoj ideologiji, nisam postao fanatik. Umjesto toga, odlučio sam iskoristiti svoje iskustvo kako bih se borio protiv terorizma, protiv zadrtosti. Radim to za žrtve terorizma i njihove voljene, zbog užasne boli i gubitka koje je terorizam donio u njihove živote. Za žrtve terorizma, progovorit ću protiv tih bezumnih činova i osuditi djela svojeg oca. I s tom jednostavnom činjenicom, stojim ovdje kao dokaz da nasilje nije automatski prisutno u nečijoj vjeri ili rasi, i da sin ne mora slijediti put svojeg oca. Ja nisam moj otac.
Thank you. (Applause)
Hvala. (Pljesak)
Thank you, everybody. (Applause)
Hvala vam, ljudi. (Pljesak)
Thank you all. (Applause)
Hvala vam svima. (Pljesak)
Thanks a lot. (Applause)
Puno hvala. (Pljesak)