Nov 27 2013
Eighteen-year-old Yahya Hassan is angry, very angry…but not at what you’d expect. Of Palestinian Muslim background, Hassan is extremely critical of his immigrant parents and of Islam in general.
Dispatch International Last week Hassan astonished the country, not to mention the Muslim community, by reading a poem on the television program ‘Deadline’ which included these lines:
”I piss on Allah and his messenger and on all his useless disciples.”
In another poem he writes about his father:
”He made five children with bitter hearts/And found a new headscarf and made three more.”
”It’s no exaggeration,” comments Uwe Max Jensen, ”that Yahya Hassan’s unambiguous statements on Islam have left the left wing, the multiculturalists and the educated public in general in a state of panic and since then they have strived to give the impression that Hassan is only criticizing aspects of Islam or that he is critical of all religions.” However, all he has said about Christianity is that it is ”harmless.”
In the daily Jyllands-Posten (home of the Danish Mohammed cartoons), Yahya Hassan is even more scathing: ”The ghettos are full of stupid Muslims who run around in jogging outfits. They go to Friday prayers but spend the other days of the week stealing, fencing, drinking booze and going to bed with Danish girls. When they are in prison, they will leaf through the Koran, get themselves worry beads and accumulate good deeds so they can start anew with all the forbidden stuff. Is it any wonder that we are faced with a generation of stupid people when their parents are so idiotic? They have exempted their children from Christianity and sports [in school, ed.). Just the fact that they are not allowed to swim together with Danish children creates a physical distance. It is ‘us’ and ‘them’ all the time.”
LiveLeak Says Hassan, “I’m fucking angry at my parents’ generation, who came to Denmark in the late 1980s. The huge group of refugees who were supposed to be parents, have totally failed their children. As soon as our parents landed in Kastrup Airport, it was as if their role as parents ceased. And then we could see our fathers rot passively up on welfare on the couch with the remote in their hand, accompanied by a disillusioned mother who never objected.”
“The worst thing of all was that they actually had time for us, but used it on everything else. The men played cards, lounged about, went to the mosque and watched the news from the Middle East, while the women were busy gossiping and chasing special offers in the supermarket. When a spoiled upper-class boy today complains that his father was never there because he worked late into the night, there is a logic to it, which I understand. The father was away at work. The vast majority of fathers in the area where I grew up in Aarhus Vest, were unemployed and on welfare. They had all the time in the world, they could wish for, but did not use it on us. My father once had a job as a taxi driver, it just meant that he also was physically away. Nothing changed.’
“I have been beaten as a child. Systematically beaten. All my friends were brought up with beatings. My father spent time on finding punishments for me and my siblings. He forced us to stand on one leg facing the wall for hours with hands outstretched to each side. It’s sick. It was not so much that they could not help us with our homework and cite classic poems, but rather that they could not be bothered with us that they did not take an interest in their own children, that’s what makes me angry today. That’s what I attack in my poems. They were just spectators who occasionally boxed our ears, in order to feel that they could still maintain order.