My Year Inside Radical Islam Read Online Free Page B

knot of people gathered for the rally by the steps of Wait Chapel, which towered over the north end of the quad. Even though it was a rally for diversity, the demonstrators were mostly black and the onlookers were mostly white.
    Knox stood on the chapel steps with a megaphone. He seemed disappointed with the lackluster turnout, but mustered all the enthusiasm that a man with a megaphone can.
    He asked a few other minority students to address the rally, some of whom pointed to the clutch of campus cops who had come to watch, saying that their presence revealed Wake Forest’s racism. “Anyone who doesn’t believe that racism exists on this campus need only look at that cop,” said an African-American sophomore named Ronetta. “Think about all the scrutiny that black people face next time you’re wondering where the cops are when students are getting raped and cars are getting broken into.”
    After the minority speakers addressed the crowd, Knox said, “Anybody else want to speak? White people, you got anything to say?” While his remark was said with humor, the serious undertone was that white people did not care about racism.
    All those walks on the quad and talks with al-Husein had affected me. I found that I had something to say. In response to Knox’s call, I climbed the chapel steps and took the megaphone. Despite all my public speaking experience as a college debater, I was nervous. I wasn’t making abstract arguments to persuade a judge; instead, I was talking to my peers about something I cared about. My speech was short and disjointed. It was about how white people, as members of the majority culture, needed to confront racism when we saw it. I finished the speech to a mixture of scattered applause and long stares. Still, I felt good.
    As I walked down the steps, I felt that I was changing. I was moving from spectator to participant. Al-Husein clapped me on the back. “It’s nice to see you taking a stand. We need more people like you involved,” he said.
    Later that day, al-Husein brought me to a meeting of a group he had founded, the Asian Student Interest Association (ASIA), a minority student group for those of Asian descent. Al-Husein opened the meeting by introducing each attendee. When it was my turn, he jokingly described me as a “token white member,” then said I had given a speech at the VOICE rally that caught people’s interest. My speech probably caught no one’s interest, but this was al-Husein’s way: he made people feel that their contributions, however small, were valued. Al-Husein asked me to tell the others why I had decided to address the rally.
    I told the group that I had always been aware of racism at Wake Forest, but that I—like too many white people—often shrugged it off as someone else’s problem. Over time, I realized that racism wasn’t someone else’s problem. Racism was everyone’s problem, and it was time for all of us to take a stand. As I spoke those words, I knew that this was the beginning of my stand.
    I was also intrigued by al-Husein’s religious views. From the beginning, one of the things I liked about him was that he was Muslim. He was, in fact, the first practicing Muslim I knew. The difference between al-Husein’s faith and Mike’s was pronounced. While fundamentalist Christianity seemed to shut Mike’s mind, al-Husein’s practice of Islam spurred him to new levels of inquiry and interest in the world.
    Islam, al-Husein told me, is “a simple faith.” Its defining characteristic is its steadfast monotheism. I learned that Muslims believe in the same God as Christians and Jews, even though they often use the Arabic term “Allah” to refer to the Lord. Muslims also believe in the same prophets as Christians and Jews. The line of prophets in Islam begins with the first man, Adam, and includes the likes of Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus. Muslims believe that Muhammad was the final prophet. They believe that God revealed Islam’s holy book, the