A little over a year ago I had a moral awakening. I was finished with holding in the horrific injustices I myself witnessed as an American girl, born and raised.
Kidnapping of young women and turning them into child brides is not confined to brutal Islamist regimes. It happened to my friends here in the United States. Just outside our nation’s capital in quiet Virginia suburbs.
Hate speech in the fashion of what you expect to hear at a mosque in Saudi Arabia were regular khutba (sermons) at my local mosque. I was afraid to speak out because the mosque leaders tacitly threatened my family’s businesses. I was a child and afraid. So, instead, I wrote.
I wrote until adulthood when my writing reached dozens of other ex-Muslims and non-Muslim people from backgrounds from Muslim-majority countries. They understood the dangers of the culture. They had also lived it. I received support from Chaldeans, Assyrians, Lebanese Christians, and so many others.
A little over a year ago, a movement was sparked within me. And through my bravery I was united with the bravery of others. Together we brought something to the table to unveil the injustices taking place in the name of archaic cultural and religious practices worldwide.
Through persistence, I met allies. Amidst a sea of robotic politically correct decision-makers, telling me I was an anomaly or that my story emboldens bigotry, all I needed was one “yes, I believe you. And I have a platform for you.”