The reason for the sentiment, of course, is the increasing visibility I am having these days as a result of my many interviews and public appearances. My talk at Brookings earlier today comes particularly to mind. I can’t help it if I have a sharp tongue. I can’t stop that sense of disgust from welling up inside of me whenever I have to speak about the regime and what it has done and is still doing to the country.
But sharp tongues beget sharp responses and the people I care about are bound to be my fiercest critics. We love the old country differently, I guess. Their way to hide their heads in the sand and hope that God will protect their protruding asses (I am paraphrasing Khawla here, she has a sharp tongue too), while mine is all about not hiding, not hiding my head, not hiding my ass, not hiding my anything. I am sick and tired of hiding. The problem with hiding is that you never know when it is safe to come out. I don’t how I came out, or even when, but I do know that I never want to be back in again.
But at the risk of what? I am not the only one involved here.