My name is Ah-Pei Ahmad. Anyone looking at me would see a six foot tall, fit and slender young Asian woman with long Black hair, light brown eyes and bronze skin. That's how I look to the world. Today I turn twenty two. Even though I am young, I have lived quite the interesting story. One fraught with pain and loss, and also love and hope. Before we go any further, I must warn you that my story isn't for the faint of heart. A lot of people living in western societies are shocked at the stuff that goes on in other parts of the world. Places where religious extremists and dictators reign supreme. Places where the idea of women's rights and religious freedom aren't something you can even allow yourself to dream of. Places dominated by the iron-clad rules of Islamic law.
I was born in the City of Kuala Lampur, in the nation of Malaysia, and raised in the Province of Ontario, Canada. To say that my parents are conservative would be an understatement. Roughly sixty percent of all people in Malaysia are Muslims, and the others are Hindus, Pagans, Christians or followers of the fast growing Baha'i faith. I never saw a person of African descent until I came to the town of Toronto, Canada's biggest City. I found myself fascinated by this elderly man named Dinga, a Black man from Cameroon. Although he's a Christian, he was the only person who was friendly to my family in the mostly White suburb where we moved. I found myself curious about the Christian faith, and about Black men. Not in a sexual way, but in a soulful way. Black people were so different than just about every group of people I encountered in Malaysia. We have Indians, Arabs, Chinese, and many other ethnic groups in Malaysia but no Black people. I didn't realize it then but my fascination for Black men wouldn't go away.