dying for the body politik v3

In an office where staff worked nights, were people who were talking about their vigilante pasts; one of them said this, when the others mocked him for having a clean record.
The person talking is a young Muslim graduate who has worked there for a year. He was in the final year of secondary school during September 2001. He is the sole Muslim employee. Other people's part in this has been taken out.
The mood here is very light to begin with, but draws longer silences as it moves along.

'Well you say that, but really, I can do illegal things. What I don't understand is why it's wrong to be good. What is wrong with being overwhelming great? Why call the one person who gives away the winnings of their lottery ticket to charity, in its entirety a fool? Not that I can do this my self, but why call out and laugh at these people? Why is Britain such a cynical place?
'Yes it's true, pigeon hole me, I don't have a criminal record and I won't ever get an ASBO. But I have done illegal things...'
The others howled in laughter.
'...you remember when 9'11 happened...well London was a pretty shit place to be a Muslim in. And I was in school. And well...never mind, I guess people erm...well you must of heard of the back lash against Muslims in the paper, so I won't...you know how in school, when somebody steals something, and the teacher is asking the class about it, and even though you know it wasn't you, you still feel almost guilty and nervous as if it was you. That was how I felt. And when they were telling the stories of the people jumping from the top floors...and the individual stories of the people who died...god I felt really really- I really felt it in the gut. I felt it again during the Tsunami.
'I suppose I should have talked about it with others, but I kept it to myself for the first week or two. And back then when everyone turned on you, I mean me, not just physically but mentally as well...there was this one time...never mind...
'My sister talked about how people wouldn't sit next to her on the bus, and that was cool by me, I mean who wants people sitting next you! But deep down I could feel the rejection she was feeling.
'When I did talk about it, I was comforted that it wasn't just me. This one particular class, where I was sitting next to people who were quite brilliant in our subject. The accelerated class, the teachers called it. We grew from being depressed and sad to being angry and buoyed on to stick it to the man, we thought that we should act out. We were angry. One person wrote to The Times, another to BBC News, another one decided to hold a march. And the stupid lot looked at me thinking that I was the one who was expected to do something better than the rest. I couldn't think of anything good. I wanted to do something to show how I felt...
'I felt like a tourist in my own city.
'I just fumed to my self...maybe because I'm a coward, or probably because I couldn't see what could be achieved by breaking a glass window or burning a car...I just fumed to my self. But I still wanted to do those things. At the end of the day though, it is actually some actual person's car and more importantly burning a car to draw attention to myself could actually kill someone, maybe a child and will only be venting my anger more than my righteous protest. But then again no peaceful protest ever achieved anything by itself.
'I was pushed off of a moving bus. And my lips started bleeding. And I was really fuming with anger then. And so I decided that I would act out by writing a god awful message on the wall. Like: Kidz, ask your mum what fucking means!!!'
'Well I bought a spray, and I wrote in a letters that were taller then I was:

''Belonging is over rated''

'Yes I know its not very street cred, but I wrote it on a wall near Tower Bridge. Cause then the council would really be pissed because it was a sweet spot for tourists. But these Japanese tourists started taking pictures with me next to it. And you could tell I wasn't a proper graffiti artist because I thought I'd add something in the fine print. I signed my name and then wrote:

''I am a Muslim. I am not a terrorist. Nor will you make me one.''

'And I thought it was clever as how it had a double meaning. I wasn't just talking to Londoners who were treating me like this, but also to those Muslims who want to convince me of this. And vice versa. Here was I saying, loud and clear. I am not willing to die for the body politic. And people took photographs. A spray in my hand.
'The message got painted over quickly, maybe as quick as the following evening, I can't remember, but people, other Muslims wrote something when I came to see it the next morning. This wasn't what I intended at all, I had just come back to see what I had written.
'One that really stuck in my head was this by a Muslim girl:

''I am a Muslim, I am a Londoner. Whosoever finds a contradiction is very clever.''

An end.

Life is just a riddle, eh.