A young Afghan man who goes by the name of "Bruce Hazara" bears a striking resemblance to kung-fu legend Bruce Lee and is kicking his way to Internet fame. (Reuters)

A young Afghan man who goes by the name of "Bruce Hazara" bears a striking resemblance to kung-fu legend Bruce Lee and is kicking his way to Internet fame. (Reuters)

— In a dark, unfinished basement, Abbas Alizada coiled his body, then exploded into a high kick, his bare feet landing on the stone floor. Wearing a white tank top and black pants, lips pursed tight, he could have been any 20-year-old passionate about kung fu.

Except, that is, for the policemen outside his house — and for his uncanny resemblance to a late Chinese American martial arts icon and Hollywood star.

“Bruce Lee inspires me,” said Alizada. “I learned all my moves watching Bruce Lee movies. I am very proud that everyone now knows me as Afghan Bruce Lee.”

Afghanistan has an unlikely new hero. In recent weeks, Alizada has become a social-media sensation as well as the target of threats after friends and relatives posted pictures and videos of him — and his Bruce Lee-like poses — on YouTube and Facebook. Then he opened a Twitter account, and his followers grew to more than 50,000.

His rags-to-fame story is inspiring Afghan youths in a nation where poverty, corruption and unemployment have snuffed out many dreams. For many Afghans, he is also a welcome diversion from the bloodshed that has placed the capital on edge and the political squabbling that has prevented the new leaders from naming a cabinet.

Abbas Alizada, who calls himself the Afghan Bruce Lee, poses for a picture in front of Bruce Lee posters after exercising in Kabul December 9, 2014. From the ruins of an iconic bombed-out palace above Kabul, the young Afghan man bearing a striking resemblance to kung fu legend Bruce Lee is high-kicking his way to Internet fame, aiming to show another side to his war-weary nation. (Mohammad Ismail/Reuters)

“All anyone hears about Afghanistan is the insecurity, the violence, the political problems,” said Ahmed Najat, a businessman. “Abbas is helping to change the image of Afghanistan.”

On another level, Alizada is bringing fresh pride to the country’s long-persecuted ethnic Hazara minority, to which he belongs. Hazaras, who are Shiite Muslims, are reviled by the Taliban and other Sunni extremists as heretics. Hazaras have been massacred, driven from their farms and forced to take low-status, unskilled jobs in cities, pulling cargo carts or working construction.

“In Afghanistan’s history, the Hazara people have always faced pressure and were insulted by other ethnic groups,” said Abdul Qayum Naderi, who heads a youth organization. “Abbas’s motivation shows to Hazara youth that if you are also motivated, you will be respected in the country and in the world, too. That’s something new for the Hazara youth.”

The son of a mechanic, Alizada grew up in a predominantly Hazara enclave in Kabul with six brothers and three sisters. When he was 9, Alizada took in his first Bruce Lee film, and soon he saw numerous others. His favorite: “Enter the Dragon.”

At 14, he took martial arts lessons at a local gym, but soon he began to train on his own because his father could not afford the expense. For four hours each day in his basement, Alizada repeatedly practiced techniques that he gleaned from Lee’s films. To bulk up his wiry physique, he pumped homemade barbells of cement and iron.

At 18, friends started remarking on his resemblance to Lee, and he began to make a name for himself locally. Recently, he won medals at two martial arts tournaments — bronze in the first, gold in the second. Still, most people in Afghanistan, even Hazaras, had not heard of him.

Then came the YouTube videos and Facebook posts.

Abbas Alizada, who calls himself the Afghan Bruce Lee, poses for the media in Kabul. (Mohammad Ismail/Reuters)

‘Hazaras are human beings’

Stunned by the reaction on social media, Alizada saw an opportunity to capitalize on his newfound fame. On his Facebook page, he announced that he wanted to be known as Bruce Hazara, and he created a Twitter handle: @brucehazara.

“My dream. Bruce Lee! . . . He is my childhood hero and my only dream,” he wrote, in broken English, on his Facebook page. “Today with all honor, I choose my name, Bruce Hazara. . . . Perhaps I can’t be like him but I try .”

But even as he gained thousands of fans, Alizada also received criticism for emphasizing his Hazara ethnicity.

Since the U.S.-led intervention after the 9/11 terror attacks ousted the Taliban regime in 2001, more Hazaras have improved their lives by enrolling in universities and working for international agencies. Hazaras have also won “Afghan Star,” the country’s version of “American Idol” — twice.

Yet many Afghans, particularly among the Sunni-majority ethnic Pashtuns and Tajiks, still consider Hazaras inferior. In Afghanistan’s fiercely tribal society, ethnic grudges run deep.

“This is an example of nationalism from Hazaras,” wrote a poster named Lkmvoeir Mosidfj on Alizada’s Facebook page on Dec. 14.“We have tons of champions in sports from Afghanistan. They never mention Tajik or Pashtoon etc. But when a Hazara has no achievement except for his face looking like some Chinese star he proudly mentions he's a Hazara in his social media profile. This should change.”

In recent days, Alizada has decided he wants to be called Afghan Bruce Lee, to demonstrate his desire to represent all Afghans. He even changed his Twitter handle to @afghanbrucelee.

But that hasn’t prevented the dark side of Afghanistan from entering his world. In recent days, Alizada said, he has received death threats on his Facebook pages and in phone calls. The police in his neighborhood — also mostly Hazaras — were concerned enough to provide round-the-clock security, including the officer who frisks visitors outside his house for guns and knives.

“Since I became famous, people feel jealous of me,” said Alizada, speaking in his family’s living room, where both of his medals hang on the wall. “Secondly, some of the ethnic groups do not see Hazaras in good eyes. They always show their enmity to us. They should know that Hazaras are human beings and they have the right to live in this country.”

He now travels in different cars, sometimes with police escorts. The recent assassinations of two sports figures in Kabul has made him more concerned.

But it has not stopped him from meeting his fans. Last week, he slipped on a pale blue suit and met scores of Hazara youth at a gathering hosted by a local civil society group.

“He comes from a poor family, and yet he is like a king who’s just been crowned,” gushed Zuhra Naderi. “He inspires us. We feel pride not only as Hazaras but as Afghans.”

Alizada said he hopes his fame will provide an escape from his violent homeland. His story has run on Chinese and Japanese television networks. His Twitter followers, he said, include Americans and Europeans. He dreams that one day someone will contact him and whisk him away to California, to follow in the footsteps of the man whose identity he has adopted.

“I want to become a very famous actor in Hollywood movies so that I can represent Afghanistan,” said Alizada. “I want to become like Bruce Lee.”