You called me up. I wondered why you were calling. There's no need to say more; all was said and done. I gave you up. I lost you. I pushed you away. I didn't care. It doesn't matter that now I do. All is already gone. I cannot accept you into my heart anymore. Your childish spirit doesn't belong in my body anymore. I want you to come back, I try to recreate your playful spirit everyday but it's useless. I am changed. I am grown up now. A child's face doesn't fit me anymore, child's words don't f...

It’s human nature to desire acceptance and validation from our peers. So, we create Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, and Tinder accounts. A new follower symbolizes a victory for us. Someone alluring and unfamiliar is interested enough to keep up with the photos we post of ourselves, our friends, and various backdrops positioned to add mystique and glamour to our daily lives. Of course, we can’t forget about the effortlessly clever captions and the emojis we artfully position around each c...

Sadiq, Umar, Abdallah and I are sitting under the last tree in the clearing when she approaches. An afternoon of gathering firewood had left us thirsty but we know the wait for a drink will be a long one. I stare at the horizon in anticipation for when the men will arrive, pushing the wheelbarrows. Those wheelbarrows always carried the yellow kegs of precious water warmed by the fierce sun. My watch is distracted by someone walking in our direction. She has hair the colour of the sand near wher...

“Grandfather, where have mama and papa gone to?” The small child asked while clinging to the old man’s torn shirt. The old man looked longingly into the distance. “They have gone to look for milk and honey my child”, he replied. He lifted the boy with one swoop ignoring the painful ache of his back. Together, they managed to walk to the frail tree which was in the middle of the compound. The old man sighed as he sat the down placing the boy carefully on his lap. “But grandfather our land hasn’t...

When did it all start? The menstrual blood fiasco, most probably when you were thirteen or fourteen? You might not remember the exact day or the date on which you had embraced the journey into womanhood. Who cares?Everyone around you is extra cautious when you are on your period, because you then acquire the status of being impure and untouchable. People are scared of you, because during these five days, you become the agent of evil. Your touching of any idol or even chanting the name of the alm...

Trapped. We need to get out of here.We know it’s not safe to stay.We see the ocean creeping closer and closer to us every day.We know it’s going to reach us very soon, and then what?Trapped.I should have left on the boats with everyone else.I could have sailed away from this awful nightmare. I feel so much anger that I couldn’t.I have to stay and look after her, don’t I?Trapped.Our entire existence is this tiny island. Our heritage, our culture, everything we have ever known.Our family has never...

“Portraits” is a recollection of two tales where hijabi women used art to convey positive messages, address intersectionality, and combat marginalisation. Melia, photographerShe was born in a Muslim French- Algerian family. They taught her arts and photography. And raised her to embrace her Muslim identity. She grew up and chose to wear a veil. But like in a tale, at work, French princesses are not allowed to put on a veil. She finished school and worked as an urbanist. Obviously, she had to tak...

Dear Diary, Michelle actually talked to me! A Harvard grad! Can you believe it? She told me her inspirations and what kept her on her path. What stood out to me the most was that she said, “ I simply would not be me if I did not get all A’s, if I did not get a perfect score on my SAT, and if I did not get fives on all my AP exams.” Wow! I wish I was like that. How cool! Well, my AP exams are also coming up… I better do well. I want to go to a college like hers, I need to do this, for my family i...

I have looked death in the eye on a number of occasions.In northern Syria, I dug wells, searching for that precious source of life and sustenance by the Earth’s core. The grounds used to be green and fragrant, bursting with wheat, potatoes, and fava beans. I used to dig for 60 to 70 meters. I remember this life: sweet like honey. I could almost taste the promise of prosperity and security.Then one day the water stopped flowing. People started losing crops and farms. Food prices doubled.My liveli...