In 1985 As A Teenager In Kenya,

I Assume The Closest Members Of My Family Don't Actually Want To Kill Me, But The Truth Is That I Have Shamed And Hurt Them; They Have To Deal With The Outrage That My Public Statements Cause, And Undoubtedly Some Members Of My Clan Do Want To Kill Me For That.

We Must Reclaim And Retake Feminism From Our Fellow Idiotic Women.

I Have Had To Pay A Price For Leaving Islam And For Speaking Out. I Have To Pay For Round-the-clock Security Because Of The Death Threats Against Me.

There Can Only Be One Answer To This Hideous Act Of Jihad Against The Staff Of Charlie Hebdo. It Is The Obligation Of The Western Media And Western Leaders, Religious And Lay, To Protect The Most Basic Rights Of Freedom Of Expression, Whether In Satire On Any Other Form. The West Must Not Appease, It Must Not Be Silenced. We Must Send A United Message To The Terrorists: Your Violence Cannot Destroy Our Soul.

In A Sense, My Grandmother Was Living In The Iron Age. There Was No System Of Writing Among The Nomads. Metal Artifacts Were Rare And Precious.... The First Time She Saw A White Person My Grandmother Was In Her Thirties: She Thought This Person's Skin Had Burned Off.