Growing up as a coloured, Muslim male in the deep South of the United States shook me to my core. The experiences my family and I witnessed after 9/11 were extraordinary – people looked at us differently at grocery stores, children weren't allowed to come over to my house anymore, I wasn't allowed to go to anyone's home either, and our phone was tapped by the FBI. The good old red, white, and blue – always listening, waiting, and wondering what we might do.

My family's experience isn't so different from those El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz and his family endured during the Civil Rights era. His journey is one of the most profound ones I’ve ever heard of in my life. Just like me – a young man from the suburbs of America making his way to the Big Apple for a greater purpose in life. He fought for the rights of not only every black person, but also every Muslim person. He sacrificed his life so that people like my parents could muster the courage to migrate to America in pursuit of providing me a better life – a saint.

I must be as bold as the lines in my paintings, and I must be as swift and steadfast as the paintbrush strokes I make. I’m hungry to honour the legacy passed down to us by our great forefathers of justice. I must be resilient and create art that will honour these brave men and women and outlive us all.