Nadhim Zahawi
Of all the heartbreaking moments from this past week, from the murder of three girls not much younger than my own daughter, to the violence and fear on our streets, there is one thought that I keep returning to: how avoidable it all might have been.
The warning signs have been present for years, but for every person who tried to tip-toe through the minefield of topics pertinent to this disorder—society, culture, religion, disenfranchisement, racism, the speed of change, feelings of powerlessness—there were ten more who wanted to bury their heads in the sand.
Even I, a brown man born in a Muslim country, feel the need to caveat what I say, and hide behind facets of my identity such as the color of my skin (facets that I largely consider unimportant) just to pass comment on things of importance to my country. The alternative is to be accused of insufficiently condemning the obviously condemnable by those who want to weaponize these issues for their own ends.
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