The Heretical Tongue!

I have no real reason to worry about my own well-being anymore. After all, I am in the United States now. I am safe here, safe to worry about those who are not, such as my Mom, Khawla’s mom and brothers, and my colleagues and friends. Even though doing anything to them to get back at me will be the stupidest thing in the world and can only make me more determined, we are talking about an essentially stupid regime here. 


The reason for the sentiment, of course, is the increasing visibility I am having these days as a result of my many interviews and public appearances. My talk at Brookings earlier today comes particularly to mind. I can’t help it if I have a sharp tongue. I can’t stop that sense of disgust from welling up inside of me whenever I have to speak about the regime and what it has done and is still doing to the country.

But sharp tongues beget sharp responses and the people I care about are bound to be my fiercest critics. We love the old country differently, I guess. Their way to hide their heads in the sand and hope that God will protect their protruding asses (I am paraphrasing Khawla here, she has a sharp tongue too), while mine is all about not hiding, not hiding my head, not hiding my ass, not hiding my anything. I am sick and tired of hiding. The problem with hiding is that you never know when it is safe to come out. I don’t how I came out, or even when, but I do know that I never want to be back in again.

But at the risk of what? I am not the only one involved here.