My art is my weapon. I intend to use it to fight. To fight terrorism, injustice, war, religious discrimination, racism, and anything art can overcome. September 11th, 2001: 146, Chambers Street, New York. This is where I was when the world was shaken by the terrifying incident. I witnessed it first hand and, like thousands of New-Yorkers living in Tribeca, was forced out of my apartment for weeks. These weeks gave me a lot to think about and triggered a multitude of memories, my memories of the civil war in Beirut. Hundreds of thousands died in the name of religion and patriotism. My memories of Beirut, even though tender and nostalgic, are also very painful. I have spent all my adolescence in a war-torn country. Weapons and militias were part of the daily scenery. We lived among them. These were the first we saw when we woke up and the last we heard when we went to bed. Feelings were different then. A child/adolescent has no sense of danger. I could not understand the unreasonable fear that overtook my mother whenever I stepped out of the house. What could happen to me? I felt immortal. I had not lost any close friend or family member to that monstrous war. As I grew older, memories became more painful, although blurred. Life in “safe” parts of the world made me feel secure. Paris and New York gave me snapshots of wonderful moments…until 9/11. All my memories resurfaced more ghastly than they ever were. For a good reason: I was a grown-up. I had passively and remotely witnessed over the years, several wars, the enrolling of child soldiers, terrorism, famine, the exodus of refugees, and anything the media was happy to serve us for the evening news. However, an event of this extent was unconceivable. In my mind, the last place in the world where it could occur was New York.New York, the kaleidoscope of America. The colourful city where races, religions, ethnicities, and languages are mixed. Being half Lebanese and half Senegalese, I have never felt at ease anywhere. Too white for the Blacks and too black for the Whites. However, New York turned out to be the perfect place to live freely, in peace, with others and myself. The attack on New York was an attack on every citizen of the world because New York does not only belong to pure Americans. It is also the home of so many individuals, however different they are.These weeks of living as a “refugee” – because this is what I felt I was: a displaced person in the event of a disaster, with no place to go, relying on the kindness of friends and strangers – opened my eyes to many things. During this time, an idea began to sneak into my mind. We have to fight terrorism with everything we have got. We cannot let terrorists take over our world, our lives and our dreams. Part of my childhood was destroyed by people using weapons to spread destruction. How do I fight them? I only have art and I will use it as my weapon. I will strip myself to the bone if this is what it takes, and show that we are all alike: Jews, Christians, Muslims, Whites, Blacks, Arabs, Africans, Europeans, Blonds, blue-eyed and slit-eyed. Peeled of his/her outer shell, the human being is unrecognizable. We are all afraid of difference. But are we so different? Can you tell the ethnicity of the skeleton from my photos?I began to gather testimonies and started working on my project. I want to promote tolerance because this is the legacy of my father. There has been an increase in intolerance, suspicion, naturally, because of fear. Who is the guy next door? The first question we ask ourselves is “Is he going to blow the building?”. The world is far from being safe. People are still getting killed around the world for the same absurd reasons.Since 9/11 the world has changed. And I have changed too. I want to be a better man…