Reality is not easy, but all this make-believe doesn't make it easier.

Tolerance of intolerance is cowardice.

I would like to be judged on the validity of my arguments, not as a victim.

It was Friday, July 24, 1992, when I stepped on the train. Every year I think of it. I see it as my real birthday: the birth of me as a person, making decisions about my life on my own. I was not running away from Islam, or to democracy. I didn't have any big ideas then. I was just a young girl and wanted some way to be me; so I bolted into the unknown.

Liberal capitalism is not perfect, but compared to the other 'isms,' it's far superior.

My brother thinks it is very, very bad that I left Islam. My half-sister wants to convert me back; I want to convert her to Western values. My mum is terrified that when I die, and we all go to God, I will be burned.

No one in the American Enterprise imposes their beliefs. We clash, and I think that's what the West is all about.