MUSLIMS BAD

Being raised by hippies, I never really understood hatred. Why don't you like brown folk? They're the same as us. Why don't you like gay folk? They're the same as us.

But you know - I think I get it now.

You see, I hate Muslims. I really hate the fuckers. All of them. No, really. I hope to have a daughter so I can forbid her from marrying one. I look forward to one day being an employer, so I can illegally discriminate against them on the grounds of religion. If I had a really big bomb, Israel wouldn't have a problem any more. Are you getting me here? I'm not a big fan.

You see, not that long ago, I stood in exactly the wrong place to stand in relation to an enraged Muslim fundamentalist zealot - ie in between him and the person he wanted to kill.

So I called the police, some of his friends apologised for his actions (he never did) and politely asked me to drop the assault charges - a suggestion I'm ashamed to say I responded to in a rather ungentlemanlike fashion, and everyone except the guy in the cells went home.

Since then, I've had a couple of moments, where it's been dark, the streets been empty except me and a group of people that look awfully Middle-Eastern. I've felt fear - maybe they were there that day, or maybe they're friends of the guy I had arrested - maybe they recognise me, and maybe they're pissed. And I seem to be alone here on this dark street....

I was assaulted by a lone man acting not only without mandate, but in direct opposition to the wishes of his group. He happened to be a Muslim. Does this make all Muslims bad people?

Yes. I think so.

But that is what I THINK, what haunts me in my anger. What I KNOW, what the logical, rational part of my brain tells me, is that this is not the case. I KNOW that this dog fucking syphilitic son of a pervert did what he did not because he was a Muslim, but because he was a cunt. And being a cunt is a disease that affects many, not just Muslims. But that's what the logical, rational parts of my brain tell me.

The illogical parts of my brain, and the irrational parts, tell me that this guy's mates are lurking around the corner, that the entire group must be judged on the actions of this lone fucker. I know it's irrational, I know it's nonsensical, and above all, I know it's wrong. But I can't help it. Let's face it, the whole Salman Rushdie thing didn't paint the Muslim faith as one of the most forgiving, and I had one of their number thrown in the cells overnight. At night, when I'm alone, and I see a big pack of people of Arabic decent, I can't help but remember the words of my assailant - specifically the bit about him and his friends finding me when I'm alone and killing me.

I KNOW that this guy was an upper middle class kid who lost it, and had the shock of his life when his actions actually had consequences. I KNOW he's not out there, has probably put the whole thing behind him. I KNOW that there's not a death order out against me spreading through the Muslim underground of Auckland. But try telling the underside of my brain that.

I hate the guy who hit me. I hate his friend who talked to me in a reasonable, friendly manner afterwards and apologised for his actions. I hate every person I see walking down the street who looks like they may be of Middle-Eastern extraction.

But of all these hatreds, I know only one is justified, and none are constructive. So, I should stop.

But you want to know something - Knowing that you should do something ain't exactly the same as being able to do it right away. I've got to stop being afraid first. Got to stop fearing reprisal, stop fearing illogical jihadic revenge. I know I'm being stupid, but fear is irrational, so I can't argue with it rationally.

I also fear my hatred. If I got a teaching job tomorrow, I would quite cheerfully fail little Farouk, just for the sake of fucking over a Muslim. That I could not only contemplate that, but even relish the idea, scares the shit out of me - as a teacher I hold a big chunk of kids futures in my hands, and this new hatred of mine could jepordise said futures.

So, what to do about this? Well, tracking down the motherfucker who hit me and setting him on fire probably wouldn't hurt, but that would only be a temporary measure.

I'm pretty sure I'll get over this - I'm too apathetic to hold grudges for that long, but until then... I don't know. I guess I just keep telling myself the truth until I finally listen.