While watching yesterday's hearing on Capitol Hill on the radicalization of American Muslims, I could not help being moved by the painful testimony of Melvin Bledsoe. His son, Carlos Bledsoe (Abdulhakim Mujahid Muhammad), is the young man who murdered one person and wounded another at an army recruitment center in Arkansas after coming under the influence radical Islamic ideology. Bledsoe's testimony itself was enough to warrant the calling of such a hearing, despite the hysterical cries predictably heard from the CAIR, MAS, MPAC and ISNAs of the world and their friends in the left-leaning political class.

Listening to Mr. Bledsoe describe how he began to lose his son to the pernicious doctrine which sanctions cold blooded murder as an act of religion, my thoughts went back to the sad faces of my own parents as I began my own dark excursion into radical Islam.

While there were no dogs in our home to throw out, as in the case of Carlos Bledsoe, nevertheless I will never forget the look of pain and chagrin on their faces as I impertinently informed them that I would no longer accept or give birthday gifts (as I saw it, a pagan practice) nor would I be coming home for the holidays. No, these festivities were the vestiges of the pre-Islamic life that I was now leaving behind; I would have none of it.

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