I'm not.
I'm going to tell you a story.
And it's remains a life defining moment for me. It's also why I will never look at a Muslim person with suspicion in my heart first.
Imagine it...1991. Saudi Arabia, The Gulf War... with my US Army Reserve unit at a Forward Operating Base off Tap Line Road. My unit was a Civil Affairs unit. Basically this is one of the few units in the military that has multiple mission capability that generally does not involve blowing shit up or actively hunting the enemy. I was on the EPW team. As in Enemy Prisoner of War team aka the bad guys. We were assigned a Muslim Kuwaiti interpreter. I'm sorry it's been years and I don't recall his name. I wish I did.
Now up until then all I really knew about Muslims is that they were from the Middle East and were still really pissed off about the crusades. I was still a marginal Catholic at the time, go figure. I did not trust him. I did not trust anyone who looked like the enemy. (As a side note, I still do not trust Russians who grew up or were adults during the communist regime)
My EPW team was attached to some Ft. Hood MP's so when it was time we moved up (as we later found out it was the night before the morning the ground war kicked off) to an EPW collection point. Let me tell you it was a freaking long drive. We are talking hours. The CP was less than two klicks (kilometers for you non military types) from the Iraqi border. After arrival we set up tents, cots and personal gear. My half of the team lost the coin toss and had to stay up while the other half of the team got to rack out and get some rest. We took in somewhere around 250 prisoners for processing during that time. Part of the team questioned, then sent them to us for holding.
My squad got to sit guard outside of the holding tent. It was a huge fecking tent. The MPs with us were inside. For hours. Until they got word that they had to move out to go outside the wire to collect some of their other MPs who were in a bit of a bind.
That means one of my teammates has to go in the tent and stand over watch. I'm outside with my squad leader, and our interpreter. The Muslim guy. Who I don't trust. Who has been nothing but cooperative and beyond helpful according to everyone who has worked with him. To me, he was a potential enemy.
Then in the middle of night, in a sideways driving rainstorm it hits me in the side of the head, much like that needle like rain beating my ear to death, that we are one team member short. And quite honestly if I ever meet one each Beach, John I will be going to jail for assault. Me using his actual name is a rarity, normally I just call him sleeping beauty. Keep in mind we both continued in the unit for several more years. We never said more than 20 maybe words between us after that night. Mine were always sleeping beauty. He learned to walk away from me.
I pointed out to my squad leader that we were short so he went off to look for said missing team member.
I don't remember how long it took, standing guard outside in blowing wind, sideways driving winter rain with not a word spoken between me and the only other person left. The Muslim. Who I did not trust.
A while later part of the other half of the team filed out from sleeping tents because transports arrived. It was time to move the enemy captured to the rear. My squad leader has still not returned. My missing team mate (I use that term loosely) has not arrived. We have approximately 250 enemy who want to get the fuck out of the tent and back to somewhere warm. Only there are two enemy in the tent who are Republican Guard. I get the shouted order to send ten prisoners down. Our interpreter waits until I give him the head nod. He relays the order for 10 to come out of the tent. Then I hear shouting from inside the tent from my team mate who is being attacked by two RG's who are trying to take his M16. Now I give SGT. Rene Segundo all the credit in the world for following my many weeks earlier instructions as to what to do if an enemy tries to take your weapon if you are guarding him. I advised to step into your sling, tug the weapon to your body, hold on for dear life and shout like a motherfucker. He did.
The EPWs rushed the door of the tent, created a bottleneck and kept me from getting to my team mate. I started shouting instructions at our interpreter who despite my absolute distrust did so (trust me, I remembered how some of the words sounded and checked it out with a couple of other interps at the FOB through some MPs who also did not always trust theirs) and after several tense moments, including pulling an M1911 .45 pistol which really got them moving backwards and clearing the way to SGT Segundo and helping get him out.
This man, this Muslim did not have to do that. He did not have to assist me, asshole that I was in my silence and distrust of him and yet he did. Even though I'm a woman. Even though I could have been considered an infidel, even though I didn't trust him at all. He relayed my words, even as I taunted them with the fact that if a woman were to kill them they would not reach heaven and Allah's reward. Words that to his faith were without a doubt heresy and sacrilege. To this day I remember the expression on his face when I said "tell them I'm a woman Irish devil and I will send them to hell". He told them.
SGT Segundo was removed safely from the tent, the RG's were properly subdued and segregated and I learned a lesson in life. That lesson was a Muslim isn't always who you've been told he or she is.
His only concern after it was over was that SGT Segundo was safe and in good health.
A few weeks later I volunteered to take his family in Kuwait some supplies. We took water, food, basics to them. They didn't even know we were coming. When we arrived they insisted on using the last of what water they thought they had to make us tea and a sweet almond desert.
I also learned that they had lost family to the Iraqi's in the form of execution, torture and 'disappearance'. The expression on his face when he learned who had been murdered, tortured and disappeared made me understand how little I knew.
Because of him, my friend is still alive. I could not have done that alone. Because of him I read the Quran (twice actually). Because of him I asked questions to understand it. And then re read the Bible again (repeatedly).
Because of him and his actions I do understand that no, not every Muslim is a 'terrorist'. Because I spent the day with his family who had next to nothing when they opened the door to us and immediately offered us the last of their water in the tea they insisted on giving us, who did not mind that we were dust covered and smelled pretty bad into their home, I understand what their good book means when it says "welcome strangers as your family".
So, quite honestly if you hate Muslims, even if you've never met one, I feel fucking sorry for you. You are missing out on an extraordinary people.
And tonight I will say an extra prayer for those 49 souls who were massacred while practicing their faith, in their church who had done harm to none.
And for those of you who will ignore the everyday Muslim and only use the extremist Muslim as your example to defend your ignorance, your bias and your bigotry, I used to be you. I grew a fucking brain. And truly if you can only point out Muslim extremists, without owning Christian extremists, you are a fucking liar and hypocrite. There is no light without dark and no dark without light.
And your excuse for white extremist murderers being "mentally ill" doesn't work if you stand behind "Muslims are killers and terrorists because they worship the wrong god". If you damn one, then you must damn all for their "religious" murders.
If you don't like what I've said, that's on you. I suggest you take a good long look in the fucking mirror and own your hypocrisy. One radicalized Muslim kills y'all lose your fucking minds. A white 'Christian' kills, 'lonewolf insane man'. That's hypocrisy.
لترتاح أرواحكم مع الله
I'm going to tell you a story.
And it's remains a life defining moment for me. It's also why I will never look at a Muslim person with suspicion in my heart first.
Imagine it...1991. Saudi Arabia, The Gulf War... with my US Army Reserve unit at a Forward Operating Base off Tap Line Road. My unit was a Civil Affairs unit. Basically this is one of the few units in the military that has multiple mission capability that generally does not involve blowing shit up or actively hunting the enemy. I was on the EPW team. As in Enemy Prisoner of War team aka the bad guys. We were assigned a Muslim Kuwaiti interpreter. I'm sorry it's been years and I don't recall his name. I wish I did.
Now up until then all I really knew about Muslims is that they were from the Middle East and were still really pissed off about the crusades. I was still a marginal Catholic at the time, go figure. I did not trust him. I did not trust anyone who looked like the enemy. (As a side note, I still do not trust Russians who grew up or were adults during the communist regime)
My EPW team was attached to some Ft. Hood MP's so when it was time we moved up (as we later found out it was the night before the morning the ground war kicked off) to an EPW collection point. Let me tell you it was a freaking long drive. We are talking hours. The CP was less than two klicks (kilometers for you non military types) from the Iraqi border. After arrival we set up tents, cots and personal gear. My half of the team lost the coin toss and had to stay up while the other half of the team got to rack out and get some rest. We took in somewhere around 250 prisoners for processing during that time. Part of the team questioned, then sent them to us for holding.
My squad got to sit guard outside of the holding tent. It was a huge fecking tent. The MPs with us were inside. For hours. Until they got word that they had to move out to go outside the wire to collect some of their other MPs who were in a bit of a bind.
That means one of my teammates has to go in the tent and stand over watch. I'm outside with my squad leader, and our interpreter. The Muslim guy. Who I don't trust. Who has been nothing but cooperative and beyond helpful according to everyone who has worked with him. To me, he was a potential enemy.
Then in the middle of night, in a sideways driving rainstorm it hits me in the side of the head, much like that needle like rain beating my ear to death, that we are one team member short. And quite honestly if I ever meet one each Beach, John I will be going to jail for assault. Me using his actual name is a rarity, normally I just call him sleeping beauty. Keep in mind we both continued in the unit for several more years. We never said more than 20 maybe words between us after that night. Mine were always sleeping beauty. He learned to walk away from me.
I pointed out to my squad leader that we were short so he went off to look for said missing team member.
I don't remember how long it took, standing guard outside in blowing wind, sideways driving winter rain with not a word spoken between me and the only other person left. The Muslim. Who I did not trust.
A while later part of the other half of the team filed out from sleeping tents because transports arrived. It was time to move the enemy captured to the rear. My squad leader has still not returned. My missing team mate (I use that term loosely) has not arrived. We have approximately 250 enemy who want to get the fuck out of the tent and back to somewhere warm. Only there are two enemy in the tent who are Republican Guard. I get the shouted order to send ten prisoners down. Our interpreter waits until I give him the head nod. He relays the order for 10 to come out of the tent. Then I hear shouting from inside the tent from my team mate who is being attacked by two RG's who are trying to take his M16. Now I give SGT. Rene Segundo all the credit in the world for following my many weeks earlier instructions as to what to do if an enemy tries to take your weapon if you are guarding him. I advised to step into your sling, tug the weapon to your body, hold on for dear life and shout like a motherfucker. He did.
The EPWs rushed the door of the tent, created a bottleneck and kept me from getting to my team mate. I started shouting instructions at our interpreter who despite my absolute distrust did so (trust me, I remembered how some of the words sounded and checked it out with a couple of other interps at the FOB through some MPs who also did not always trust theirs) and after several tense moments, including pulling an M1911 .45 pistol which really got them moving backwards and clearing the way to SGT Segundo and helping get him out.
This man, this Muslim did not have to do that. He did not have to assist me, asshole that I was in my silence and distrust of him and yet he did. Even though I'm a woman. Even though I could have been considered an infidel, even though I didn't trust him at all. He relayed my words, even as I taunted them with the fact that if a woman were to kill them they would not reach heaven and Allah's reward. Words that to his faith were without a doubt heresy and sacrilege. To this day I remember the expression on his face when I said "tell them I'm a woman Irish devil and I will send them to hell". He told them.
SGT Segundo was removed safely from the tent, the RG's were properly subdued and segregated and I learned a lesson in life. That lesson was a Muslim isn't always who you've been told he or she is.
His only concern after it was over was that SGT Segundo was safe and in good health.
A few weeks later I volunteered to take his family in Kuwait some supplies. We took water, food, basics to them. They didn't even know we were coming. When we arrived they insisted on using the last of what water they thought they had to make us tea and a sweet almond desert.
I also learned that they had lost family to the Iraqi's in the form of execution, torture and 'disappearance'. The expression on his face when he learned who had been murdered, tortured and disappeared made me understand how little I knew.
Because of him, my friend is still alive. I could not have done that alone. Because of him I read the Quran (twice actually). Because of him I asked questions to understand it. And then re read the Bible again (repeatedly).
Because of him and his actions I do understand that no, not every Muslim is a 'terrorist'. Because I spent the day with his family who had next to nothing when they opened the door to us and immediately offered us the last of their water in the tea they insisted on giving us, who did not mind that we were dust covered and smelled pretty bad into their home, I understand what their good book means when it says "welcome strangers as your family".
So, quite honestly if you hate Muslims, even if you've never met one, I feel fucking sorry for you. You are missing out on an extraordinary people.
And tonight I will say an extra prayer for those 49 souls who were massacred while practicing their faith, in their church who had done harm to none.
And for those of you who will ignore the everyday Muslim and only use the extremist Muslim as your example to defend your ignorance, your bias and your bigotry, I used to be you. I grew a fucking brain. And truly if you can only point out Muslim extremists, without owning Christian extremists, you are a fucking liar and hypocrite. There is no light without dark and no dark without light.
And your excuse for white extremist murderers being "mentally ill" doesn't work if you stand behind "Muslims are killers and terrorists because they worship the wrong god". If you damn one, then you must damn all for their "religious" murders.
If you don't like what I've said, that's on you. I suggest you take a good long look in the fucking mirror and own your hypocrisy. One radicalized Muslim kills y'all lose your fucking minds. A white 'Christian' kills, 'lonewolf insane man'. That's hypocrisy.
لترتاح أرواحكم مع الله
