For seventeen years, I watched injustice unfold without uttering a word, thinking that everything would be alright, so long as I remained silent. I forced myself to believe that I didn't have to be anyone else's moral compass because I still needed to become my own. All this time, I nurtured ignorance – appeased it, even – with my silence, unaware of the difference I could have made if I had just spoken up. When my friend Ahmed was beat up and...

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