National Post | Full Comment

I didn’t really know any Muslims as I was growing up in Toronto. It was only at high school that I got to know some new students whose parents had converted to Islam and who had grown up Muslim. They were African Americans with English names who had immigrated to Canada but who walked around wearing shalwar kameez. They looked like Afghan mujahedeen to me. They celebrated and honoured things in my own cultural background I didn’t like. They were fantastic athletes, had memorized a lot of the Koran and could recite it in a very beautiful way. A few years older than me, they were very impressive guys.

We were the classic attention-getting, hard-talking boys in town. We became a small set of extremists. I was 16 when they invited me to spend the summer with them at a camp in New York. I was told it was like…

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