Translator: Ellen Maloney Reviewer: Denise RQ
I was born in the birthplace of civilization.
In Mosul, Iraq to be exact.
It's about 120 degrees during the day, and it's not that much cooler at night.
I remember those sleepless summer nights when we had no water, no electricity,
and when mosquitoes came in waves.
I was nine years old in 2007
when my father first got threatened for money
by a group of corrupt teenagers who lived in the neighbourhood where he worked.
My whole family was under the threat of being killed.
It took my father several weeks of fear, anger, and frustration
to work out a deal with them.
On top of that, my parents still went to work, bought groceries,
raised me and my brother, and fed us like nothing was happening.
After paying them, my parents never felt the same about living in Iraq.
They made a decision: they decided to leave
and took a risk that changed all of our lives.
We sold everything; the car, valuables,
and just about anything we couldn't bring with us.
And worst of all, we left our loved ones.
To this day, I can still feel the warmth of my grandparents' tears on my face
when they kissed my forehead for the last time.
Those were my last moments in Iraq,
and that was the last time I ever got to see my grandparents.
After that, we began our journey of being refugees
for the United Nations, in Turkey.
We had nothing and no one to trust
but our dictionary, our faith, and each other.
We had no idea where we were going, but we were going.
The dictionary wasn't always the most convenient way
to communicate with strangers,
but after about a year and a half,
I found myself in sixth grade at a middle school in Portland, Maine.
When I was in sixth grade,
I became labeled as a "joke" to my mainstream classmates
due to my lack of confidence,
my limited English vocabulary, and my newness to the country.
They called me "immigrant", "terrorist", "suicide bomber",
and even "Osama Bin Laden" despite not being born in Saudi Arabia,
and I have never been to Afghanistan.
They asked me if I rode camels in the desert, and if we had a president.
They forgot that the roots of modern civilization was in Mesopotamia.
They forgot that the first library ever built in history
was in Nineveh, Iraq; my birth city.
I especially had a difficult time in gym class
because it was the only time where my mainstream classmates,
and my English-language learners classmates came together.
I remember playing kickball for the first couple of times.
Let me tell you, it was not fun.
I remember that one time, as soon as I kicked the ball,
I started running from base to base,
and as I was approaching the home base,
I took a glance at my mainstream classmates.
I noticed that they were laughing, and chanting sarcastically,
saying, "Keep going, Salim, keep going."
That was when I realized that I was out before I even started running.
When I realized that I was out before I even started running,
day by day, I began getting used to those looks.
I began getting used to working alone.
I was categorized and labeled so much
that I was convinced I didn't belong here.
I lived inside a category for years.
But I wanted to be more than just a category;
I did not want to be known as "the immigrant kid",
I did not want to be known as "the Iraqi kid",
I did not want to be known as that kid
who doesn't know what's said to him half the time
because English wasn't his primary language.
Because that kid has a name; his name is Salim Amin Salim.
So I took a risk.
I took the risk of stepping out of my comfort zone,
and exploring what's outside my circle.
That was when I began to change;
that was when everything around me began to change.
Taking risks is risky.
But we as people have become so segregated and categorized
because of our skin color, the amount of money we have, our gender,
our political views, and the list goes on.
Our society points out our weaknesses so much that we forget our strengths.
(Applause)
Taking risks will help us reveal those strengths.
The second you get to know someone who's different from you,
I promise you that you'll be a step closer to being you
rather than being a category.
Everybody in this room has a dream, a goal, and a purpose.
It's about which risks do you want to take to get closer to that goal,
and it's about having the curiosity, and the courage to step into the unknown.
Once you get there, you've helped yourself achieve that goal,
and you've inspired many to do the same.
I still haven't found myself yet,
but I can tell you that through these risks,
I am getting closer to finding and knowing my inner self; my true self.
I will not let a category decide my fate.
I will not let a label change my name,
and I will definitely not let the risk of speaking here
set the limit for my journey.
(Applause)
Taking risks has brought me from Mosul, Iraq to Portland, Maine.
It has brought me from being a joke in middle school,
to getting elected as school president.
(Applause)
I wonder where taking risks will take you all?
Thank you.
(Applause)