Ayaan Hirsi Ali har skrevet følgende artikel i The Week-end Australian 26. august 2006.
One of my heroines is Samira Ahmed, a 24-year-old girlishly pretty woman with large, brown, doelike eyes, dark, curly hair and a smile that seduces even the gloomiest of faces to lighten up and smile back. Besides her good nature, she is inquisitive and has a strong will to be her own person. Born to a family who left Morocco in the early 1980s and settled in The Netherlands, she is one of 10 children.In the (northern) summer of 2005, I attended her graduation ceremony at a training college in Amsterdam. Samira received a diploma for pedagogy and a record 10 score (the highest possible) for her thesis.
This is the celebratory side of Samira’s story, for there is also a tragic side. When I arrived for Samira’s graduation I was received like all the other guests in a reception area just outside of the auditorium where the ceremony was to take place. I noticed the happy class, a total of 35 students, gathered in clusters around coffee stands. Family and friends accompanied them, chatting, carrying gifts and flowers wrapped in cellophane. Proud fathers and mothers, flushed siblings teasing their red-faced brothers and sisters, boyfriends and girlfriends happy just to be there to witness an achiever in the family.
On Samira’s stand none of her family showed up: no brother, no sister, no cousin, no nephew, no niece. Two years earlier, Samira had to sneak away from home because she wanted to live in a student house like her Dutch friends Sara and Marloes. At home she had shared a bedroom with some of her siblings and had no privacy at all. Every move she made in the house was monitored by her mother and sisters; outside the house her brothers kept watch. They all wanted to make sure that under no circumstances would she become Westernised.
Og igen igen: Hvor er alle de politisk korrekte og kvindesagsforkæmperne henne?