“De-radicalization is a rough process, and I’m extremely pleased that I cleansed myself of the antisemitism I grew up with,” Yemeni-born content creator and journalist Luai Ahmed says.
“I’ve been writing ever since I was 13. I always wanted to write in the Jerusalem Post, actually,” says Ahmed.
His father was the owner of a newspaper who was murdered in 1998 for his political activism and writing, which was critical of the regime. He describes his mother as a feminist and human rights activist who decided against all norms to take off her hijab and end her first marriage.
He also has one brother, “though he excommunicated me over the Israel issue,” he adds gloomily. “It’s what saddens me most.”
Inspired to become an activist
Seeing his mother violate all the norms inspired him to go into political activism himself. At the age of 16, during the so-called Arab Spring, he found himself taking to the streets holding signs for human rights and feminism.
Ultimately his activism was made public, and he was invited to Sweden to speak about the situation in Yemen.
Ahmed says that he was always drawn to Western culture. “I read many Western books, listened to Madonna and Michael Jackson and even Britney Spears.” He also adds that already as a child, he had noticed that in Western culture, people could dress however they want, but in Yemen, his mother got called 'a prostitute,’ received death threats, and had her home vandalized for the mere act of walking around without a hijab (head covering) or niqab (veil).
On top of all that, Ahmed also discovered that his sexual orientation was different from his environment. “I had known it for a while but never gave it much thought. Except maybe when my Islam studies teacher said that homosexuality leads to hell,” he adds dryly.
One day, his mother advised him to think of seeking permanent asylum in Sweden. The mother had gotten a direct threat from Al-Qaeda, and she urged him to leave, promising that she and his brother would also attempt to follow him. “At first, I refused, but later I decided that this would be a chance to live somewhere where I can finally be true to myself.”
When he arrived at the refugee camp in Sweden in 2015, Ahmed quickly realized that language was the key to integration and started learning Swedish intensively. “I arrived in Sweden thinking that everyone in the refugee camps would be like me – seeking more freedoms from the traditionalist society they’ve left behind.
“But I soon found out that the same extreme ideologies from which I ran away were all still there,” he adds, still with a tone of surprise in his voice. “People lied about their stories, and the inefficient immigration board in Sweden accepted them without checking their background or their beliefs.”
Ahmed found himself in distress, again feeling unsafe in his surroundings, though this time in a foreign country. In 2018 he started tweeting about these feelings of being unsafe, as well as on the dangers posed by the unconstrained radical Islam freely imported into Sweden.
However, the Swedish society of a decade ago was not willing to hear anything about radicalism or fanaticism within the ranks of asylum seekers and immigrants. “They were so trapped within their cage of political correctness that they would call you a Nazi if you were to mention anything about that,” Ahmed recalls.
And indeed, instead of empathy, affection, and understanding, Ahmed was quickly painted by many in what he describes as “progressive-leaning media” outlets as a racist and a Nazi sympathizer, with attempts to delegitimize him – even though he had written arduously against the antisemitism emanating from his community.
“Sweden took in a million Middle Eastern immigrants and refugees with deeply antisemitic beliefs,” he adds in a worried tone. “They were naïve, they thought that the future of Sweden would be harmony and love and acceptance and everyone would just become pro-LGBTQ; that ‘all the people in the world have the same values as us, they only need to move here and enjoy our material benefits – and they’ll be programmed right away to think like the left-leaning socialist progressives that we are.’
“The truth is that so many of these asylum seekers go through a process of radicalization themselves, sometimes due to feelings of seclusion and estrangement from the new culture. Sweden may have saved many lives, but it also imported many people who think gays and Jews should be killed.”
In Sweden, Ahmed began to be exposed to new ideas, as well as new people. “The first time I met an Israeli in 2015 was shocking. I froze. Of course, he turned out to be a great guy. It led me to challenge my perceptions, start reading about the Holocaust, and educate myself. The very issue of the Holocaust is so strange to people from the Middle East. They think it’s a Jewish conspiracy, a lie, that Israel and the Mossad are involved.
“So, I started writing about acceptance for LGBTQ in mosques, about the threat of radical Islam for the West and the Middle East alike, and as I was educating myself – also about antisemitism, the Jews, and Israel – I’ve been called a Mossad agent more times than I can even count.
“Antisemitism is so brain-rotting and conspiratorial. They even tried to publish an ‘expose’ about how I write submissively as a slave for a magazine owned by a Jew as if I’m being told what to write,” he adds. “Thankfully, I can see Jews without filters, thanks to both my mother’s education and my sexual identity. I managed to challenge my beliefs and see diversity as an asset rather than a burden.”
The trip to the Holy Land
“When October 7 happened, for me, it was a pivotal moment,” says Ahmed. “Of course, I already knew everything about antisemitism in extreme Islamist circles, but seeing it unveiled in front of my eyes – it was shocking. And then people in Sweden took to the streets, some with swastikas, to celebrate the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust!”
“I’m especially furious about the issue of the denial of rape and sexual violence. Hamas hates both Jews and women – especially when the two are combined. Rape happened numerous times in wars throughout history. So how can you deny this?” Ahmed is enraged. “Denying the Holocaust despite the overwhelming evidence is just plain absurd.
Denying these atrocities is already evil. And then some choose to justify it,” he adds in disgust.
Several weeks ago, Ahmed Luai came on his first trip to Israel, organized and hosted by Sharaka, a grassroots peace-building organization established following the Abraham Accords to develop bonds between young Israeli and Gulf leaders to strengthen peace, trust, and cooperation between societies.
“When Sharaka reached out to me, I had already made up my mind that I had to visit Israel, especially now. And this was a great opportunity and a life-changing trip,” he says.When he talks about his 10-day trip to Israel, he suddenly becomes emotional. “It’s not the Jerusalem syndrome,” he reassures. “The trip was just such a cathartic moment for me. I felt like I wanted to cry every day there.”
Ahmed describes how he came to internalize that, growing up in Yemen, the general sentiment towards Jews and gays was similar: both groups were despised, loathed, and wished death every week, and both were attributed with evil plots and schemes as farthest possible from the truth: Jews were accused of ruling the media and the economy, while homosexuals were stigmatized as pedophiles or spreaders of HIV.
“I just know what it is to be hated just for being yourself and wanting to be yourself. For this reason, I was able to empathize with the Jewish people in the first place. I understand how it feels to be hated for something that you never chose and which forms an integral part of your identity. As a gay person, I would be killed in over 13 countries just for this. I completely relate to the feeling of being hated and misunderstood.”
Ahmed tells how, upon arriving in Israel, he was sure he would meet much racism, and many told him to look out for instances of apartheid. “I was sure someone would stab me or yell at me, but all I got was acceptance, and people were just being nice,” he describes. “When I tweeted that I’d be going to Israel, I had comments telling me, ‘Now you’ll finally understand Israel’s racism, and if not – well, that just means that you’re a Mossad or CIA agent’. There’s simply no winning with some people.
“I was told to expect an especially hard time at the airport. I was indeed taken for interrogation by the most lovely lady at border inspection, who asked me very simple questions about my being born in Yemen, understandably. I half-joked with her that my blond, tall boyfriend was let through with no problem, and she laughed with some embarrassment. Then, at some point, we found out that we were both ‘Swifties’ (Taylor Swift fans), and the conversation just went smoothly.
Unexpected acceptance in Israel
“People I met in Israel were open and warm and welcoming,” he retells. “Many people even look like me. I feel like Israel has the soul of the Middle East – but the mind of Europe,” he concludes.
“The food was amazing, I fell in love with the resilience, the unapologetic attitude of Jews who simply want to live and protect themselves. It inspired me as a gay person born in Yemen. I, too, don’t have to be apologetic about who I am. I should never have to beg others not to be hanged!
“By the way, 13 men were just sentenced to death in Yemen for the crime of being gay. I still haven’t heard anyone from ‘Queers for Palestine’ comment about that.”
Ahmed recalls: “I was taken to churches and synagogues and mosques. I even visited Kfar Aza, where I saw the burnt-down houses, met with survivors from the massacre, and saw a VR experience featuring the last messages written by victims. These were especially hard experiences. I couldn’t stop crying.”
Ahmed was also invited to the Knesset, but he didn’t go since “the schedule was packed, and politicians are the last people I’m interested in.”
He also had a party thrown in his honor by members of the Yemeni community in Israel at Moshav Ahiezer, established by Yemeni olim, with singers artists, and participants who traveled three hours just to see him.
“I told them that I apologize that Yemen could not be their home. That I’m also a refugee from Yemen. In the end, they stood up in a line to take a selfie with me. I felt like Taylor Swift,” he laughs. “I also sent videos from the party to my mother. I said, ‘Mom, they are like us. These are us!’ but she just replied, ‘Hope you’re enjoying your stay in Palestine.’”
“I also visited Al-Aqsa,” Ahmed recounts. “It’s the only place where I felt unsafe. An Arab guard came towards me aggressively, asked me if I was Muslim, and told me to recite the Fatiha (the opening chapter of the Quran also used as prayer). There I was, having my faith tested and graded by this threatening stranger. It felt like an antisemitic test, and I understood where apartheid lies.”
Ahmed tells about a Shabbat meal he was invited to. “I sat down with the rabbi, and we spoke for over three hours about different interpretations of God, life, and love. I understood that Jewish theology promotes discussion, contradictions, and a diversity of perspectives.
“It’s a part of Jewish culture that I admire. Antisemites take this great value that Jews have for intellect and use it against them as if it’s a bad thing to promote science or seek to improve human life. We have a lot of work to do in the Middle East,” he adds thoughtfully.
Ahmed elaborates on some of his views on the conflict. “A Palestine which is based solely on the premise of erasing and destroying Israel and committing genocide against Israelis is anti-Palestinian in and of itself. Even when I criticize governments I have never said, ‘This country has no right to exist’ or ‘This country should be destroyed.’ Israel is the only country for which a negative view of a government leads to calls for its annihilation.
“It’s clear that most Palestinians don’t want peace, but rather the destruction of Israel, while most Israelis want peace. Peace between Israelis and Palestinians is only possible if Palestinians change their perception entirely. In that case, I would be both pro-Israel and pro-Palestine.
“More and more people in Sweden are now beginning to speak about how Jews escaped Malmo because of the rise in antisemitism: from a community of 3,000 to only a handful of dozens.
“It’s insane, but it also reflects exactly what happened in the Middle East: hundreds of thousands of Jews who left Yemen, Iraq, Egypt, and other places – simply packed their bags and left. Israel is the refugee state of the Jews, including Jews from the Middle East, no matter what those ‘white Karens’ say. Israel had to be created as a direct result of our antisemitism in the Middle East and Europe,” he reflects.
A builder of the Middle East
Nowadays, Ahmed writes for the Swedish news site Bulletin and is also part of a group named “Builders of the Middle East,” an initiative aiming to amplify the voices of Israelis and Palestinians alike, who call for peace in the Middle East, and creating video content for his millions of viewers.
“At one point, I decided that I had written enough about the radicalism that we must fight, and I felt like now it’s time to build an alternative,” Ahmed says. “In ‘Builders of the Middle East,’ I’m working to empower voices of peace in the region. That’s the future, and that’s what I’m working on. As much as I’m critical of Sweden and Europe and radical Islam and antisemitism, I believe that I must strengthen the alternatives. I also commend countries and societies that are making progress in areas such as women’s rights, from Saudi Arabia to the brave protests in Iran.
“Working with video content is a tad bit more problematic than writing because my face becomes more familiar,” he comments on the new direction he took. “However, though Swedes usually avoid conflicts and touchy subjects, many still come to me and tell me how they agree with me and how happy they are that I sound my voice, which is their voice as well.”
Ahmed does not delude himself. “I live under constant death threats. But just like my mother, who received death threats while living in one of the most radical countries and refused to keep quiet – so do I. By the way, my mother criticizes me for my views on Israel, but I keep telling her that she’s the one who taught me to fight for what I believe in. I tell her: “It’s your fault that it’s in my genes.”
For Ahmed, the next step includes forming part of a slowly but steadily growing current within the Islamic world that promotes the inclusion of minorities, women’s rights, and peacebuilding. “We want to build a future for a thriving Middle East, in which I would also be able to visit carefree. I want Yemen to be my home. I’m critical of my homeland, but it all comes from a place of love, of wanting to be accepted in my society.
“It’s time to re-humanize Jews and LGBTQ in the Middle East,” Luai adds. “I used to believe that homosexuals were the most hated minority in the region, but seeing antisemitism there – and in the West as well – leads me to believe that there’s no real competition.
“I had a crazy journey of awakening and enlightenment. De-radicalization is a rough process, and I’m extremely pleased that I cleansed myself of the antisemitism I grew up with,” Ahmed adds with a triumphant smile. “I got messages from maybe three people that I know who told me that I managed to change their minds.
“For me, it means the entire world; it means I’m doing something good, and this is exactly why I’m doing what I do. I’m a builder of the Middle East.”