Last night was the keynote address for USAO's annual Giles Symposium.  The speaker was Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who speaks about Islam, politics, and human rights.  Her address last night was fascinating and provocative.  She takes a hard line against Islam, arguing that it has not adapted to modernity in the ways that Judaism and Christianity have.  This lack of adaptation manifests itself in Islamic government regimes that are oppressive.  Hirsi Ali advocates international support for secular groups within Islamic countries, with the goal of a separation of church and state. 

Because Hirsi Ali grew up within Islam and now speaks out against it, she is labeled an "infidel."  There's a death threat out on her-- she travels with her own security, and there was a police presence at the event last night. 

As a member of the committee that organizes this event, I had a job last night.  During Q&A, I was in charge of standing by the stationary mic-- limit one question per person, cut things off when we ran out of time.  There were several people still in line when Hirsi Ali said she'd take one more question.  I turned back to make sure that everyone was headed back to their seats. 

One man didn't.  He was hefty, middle-aged, and a little agitated. 

"Sir, I'm sorry.  She's not taking any more questions."

He looked straight at me, shrugged, and stayed in place. 

"Sir, there's no more time for questions."

"But I have something to say that everyone needs to hear." 

I wasn't having it.  "This isn't your forum, sir."

"But did you hear her?!  Talking about what we should be funding?  Do you think that's ok?  I'm not gonna do anything-- people know me-- firefighters..."

At this point, a campus security officer and a state highway patrolman eased their way up and escorted the angry man out of the auditorium.  I turned back to watch Hirsi Ali finish answering the final question.  My heart was pounding. 

I kept thinking about that confrontation on the way home.  He was a big man, trying to use his size and the force of his anger to intimidate me.  I'm not a physically small woman, but this man was bigger and very likely stronger than me.  I didn't consciously see any direct threat to my safety, but such confrontation is not common for me.  I do just about everything I can in my life to circumvent, preempt, and otherwise avoid confrontations.  I couldn't avoid that one, and I felt uncomfortable.  But I remained firm, and ultimately he wasn't successful. 


One of the pitfalls (there are many) of being a very reflective and self-aware person is that I spend a lot of time replaying events in my head-- I analyze them.  Why do other do as they do?  Why did I act as I did?  Why didn't I cower during that confrontation?  I can think of two things:  First, long before I was comfortable calling myself a feminist, I was one.  Both my mother and father instilled in me-- through actions and words, that women are not inferior to men.  I was never taught that I must obey a man because I am a woman.  I am not intimidated by a man just because he is a man. 

Second, I think I was inspired by Hirsi Ali.  There she was on our stage in tiny Chickasha, Oklahoma.  Sure, she had security and there were 6-8 other police officers around.  But she's 8 months pregnant, has a standing death threat out on her, and she still travels and talks about issues that are important to her.  A person only takes that risk if she's strong.  I admire strong women.