There was a time in my life when I lived in the shadow of terror — not just as a distant observer, but as someone who felt its grip firsthand. I was born into a world where radical Islam was not just a belief system, but a way of life — a force that dictated what I could wear, how I could think, who I could marry, and whether I lived or died. I have seen the face of oppression up close. I have felt the cold breath of death whispering lies of hopelessness into my soul.
And yet, by God’s grace, I escaped. I ran from that life and stepped onto foreign soil, hoping to leave the nightmare behind. But the nightmare was not confined to one land, it has followed me. It has followed us all.
I came to America believing I had reached a place of true freedom — a nation that stood tall in the face of tyranny. Today, however, the more I watch, the more I realize America is sleeping.
I see the…
