Best 9 quotes of Samira Ahmed on MyQuotes

It's not about danger. It's about fear. People are willing to trade their freedom, even for a false sense of protection.

It’s selfish and horrible, but in this terrible moment, all I want is to be a plain old American teenager. Who can simply mourn without fear. Who doesn’t share last names with a suicide bomber. Who goes to dances and can talk to her parents about anything and can walk around without always being anxious. And who isn’t a presumed terrorist first and an American second.

I wonder if all moms do this—try to make the terrifying seem mundane.

One thing I’ve learned: people love a camera, and when I’m filming, they see it, not me, so whenever I need to, I can quietly disappear behind my trusty shield.

People quietly shuffle through the dust back to their Mercury Homes. Even though we are in an open-air camp, we breathe the recycled air of dread and anxiety. Like everyone else, I wonder about tomorrow. Hope. Fear. Anticipation.

Saying his name out loud is a reminder of everything I've lost. "My boyfriend. I guess he's still my boyfriend." I touch my infinity necklace. "I don't know when I'll see him again. And who's he going to take to prom?" Ayesha's mouth drops open, and she tries to hold in a laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I love how prom is on the list right after freedom and breathing." "Oh my God. That's totally ridiculous, right? There are these moments when I still think this place isn't real- like it's a horrible dream. And for that minute, my mind feels free to think about, like, prom." "I get it. We have to have those moments of remembering that we're human and thinking of regular stuff, or else the weight of this place would crush us. Like, have you seen Footloose?

Thanks. I love cake.

These terrorists are the antithesis of Islam. They’re not Muslim. Violence has no place in religion, and the terrorists are responsible for their own crimes, not the religion and not us.

The step is small and suddenly I'm aware of how close we are. Close enough that I can smell the smoky sweetness of coffee beans on him. "That does not smell like the coffee that's in the mess. Contraband?" He chuckles. "I grind my own. It's one of the lessons my dad imparted to me about military life. He was army to the core. And when I left for basic training he said, "always grind your own coffee."" "Is that like a metaphor?" I ask. "No. He literally meant grind my own beans. Basic training coffee sucked." We share a laugh.