Before moving to Sweden, my mother told me this: "I need you to become Swedish. If in 10 years, you don't speak Swedish better than the Swedes, you're no longer my son." She insisted that I learn Swedish fluently, adapt to Swedish culture, fully integrate, and become a part of Sweden. She told me, "I don't want you to become like one of those immigrants with an identity crisis, whose bodies are in the West, and whose minds are stuck in the Middle East." This lecture was the last lecture I was given in Yemen, and to this day, her words still echo in my mind. Back then, I had no idea what she meant with "those immigrants with an identity crisis, whose bodies are in the West, and whose minds are stuck in the Middle East" but now, almost 10 years later, I understand exactly what she meant. I see immigrants whose minds are stuck in the Middle East all the time. I see them waving the Palestinian flags, spitting on their new countries, and being completely ungrateful for having gained a second chance at life. I will forever be thankful to my mother. Thanks to her, I spent every day learning Swedish, translating songs, reading Swedish books, listening to podcasts, reading the news, until I immersed myself and mind in Sweden until a Swedish identity was born within me, an identity that I am proud of. I am not white, blue-eyed, but I never had to be to feel Swedish. My Swedish friends and co-workers have always made me feel Swedish, even when my Swedish was broken. In the heart of Swedes, ethnicity is irrelevant. They made me feel like family. Swedes' hearts are bigger than their bodies. And I understand that this is not every immigrant's experience – I have also had my fair share of unpleasant asshole, but the overwhelming majority of Swedes are welcoming, open, and loving cupcakes once you get to know them. Thanks to my instilled "Swedishness" - I always feel at home in Sweden. If you read my writings, I tend to be a tedious and complain about our braindead politicians and Islamism a lot, but my heart and soul have become more Swedish than Yemeni, and I am happy in Sweden. Many immigrants who I meet, who are stuck in the Middle East, always tell me that they struggle with Swedish and wonder how I've been able to learn the language so efficiently, and I simply ask them: "How many hours a day do you put into learning Swedish?" They turn silent, because they know that they're not putting in the hours to learn the language. And that's all it takes to learn a language, or any skill for that matter, the time and effoort. And how are you supposed to succeed in a new challenging society if you aren't able to fluently express yourself, or understood your new neighbors expressions? But I can't blame them. Very few people are blessed with mothers like mine. My beautiful mother has graced me with knowledge that money can't buy. /midnight rant over