Now Islamists who believe in a toxic combination of pro-Islam and anti-West have taken over.

Watch my full conversation with Florence Bergeaud-Blackler here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFW-...

It’s like being encased in cement, and sometimes there’s a small crack, and a bit of light comes in. But then you return to the mosque or the ideological circle, and the cement covers you again.

It’s happened in Syria, Gaza, and throughout the Muslim world. This surreal alliance is very old. As someone who was part of a cult herself, I can understand what it feels like when your mind is held captive by ideology, when facts, logic, and reality are outside your consciousness.

The Islamic revolution in Iran succeeded thanks to communist supporters (though of course the Iranian students who wanted to fight the monarchy and gain political freedom were later imprisoned and executed by their “liberators” on the charge of atheism).

People began policing each other: 'Why don’t you eat halal? Why aren’t you wearing a hijab?' The option of being a moderate Muslim disappeared.

Everyone suddenly became much more religious. Even in Western countries, mosques transformed from community spaces into places where they would feed you often violent and misogynistic religious and political indoctrination.

I felt so vulnerable. I had to learn how to wear clothes—skirts, dresses, shorts, jeans, shirts. I discovered which colors I liked because until then, I only wore black. I learned how to care for my hair, how to apply makeup. It all felt so strange.

Reigniting my thoughts—wow. That was the best part—removing the mental chains.

Removing the physical chains was more difficult. Taking off the hijab, showing my face. At first, I felt everyone was staring at me.

The “rationale” is that if your voice is beautiful, it could “drive a man crazy,”which might lead him to assault you. But ultimately, the goal is to silence you so you don’t ask questions. (3/3)

I remember once asking my mother what I should do in an emergency. She told me, 'Just say one word quickly.' Because letting a man hear your voice is like letting him see your legs or your breasts.
(2/3)

When my dad died, I mourned mostly for what could have been in my relationship with him. Now I am mourning for what could have been for his homeland.

Mercifully, my dad died thinking that one day his dream of freeing his homeland from the clutches of Hamas so the Gazan people could breathe and flourish might be realized. He didn’t have to endure the heartbreak of seeing the reality playing out today.

I will likely never set eyes on his beloved olive trees. They will return to the earth as he has.

It could have been so different. Ignorance and religious zealotry ripped away any chance that Gaza had.

It is Gazans who will never recover. It is Gazans who will have to give up on their dream of a homeland forever.

www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2025/01...