The Void

I feel so empty. Like there's a void in me and it's sucking me in. A dark void. A hole. Emptiness. 

I've been praying to God lately. Trying to rekindle a relationship I've lost with my Lord. He understands me best I'm sure. I cry to Him. I plead with Him. I am selfish. I ask for forgiveness after I realize how much I've sinned but forget Him in the act of sinning. I say to myself "I'm human" and "He gave me the urge to sin so why is He mad". But then in the middle of the night when I'm alone, I wake up from bad dreams. It's my soul telling me she needs her Creator. And so I've listened to her. I need my Creator too. I need His approval. His mercy. His compassion. 

But I also need love. To me, love is defined as "a void". We either fill it, or we live with it being empty. I've had both. I've had a great love. The void was full. It illuminated my existence. Till it became destructive. Till it got so big, it ate all that surrounded it. Consumed me whole and then I wasn't there anymore. I had changed completely. And on one night, just as quickly as it had been filled, the void combusted. It emptied itself out and there I was. Empty again. Trying to rebuild what had been lost. Putting back the pieces consumed by this love so that I can be somewhat whole again. 

But love is a void. No matter how you go around it, its absence leaves you empty. Forever anxious for its reappearance. People say if you're good with your Creator, the void isn't so bad. You occupy yourself with that which is greater than the love of a human. You give your love to God Himself. But even God Himself created Adam and Eve for one another. He could've easily had Adam live off the love of The Devine. Yet, that is not the case and that has not been how humanity has sustained its growth. 

So as I rebuild my relationship with God and as I try to rebuild myself, I've come to realize I can no longer deny that within me, there's a void waiting to be filled. That there's always something missing. Something that could be better. An itch I can never stop scratching. It's that extra pinch of salt you want add to your food to make it just right.... But you can't have it. At least not yet. 

Love is a void. We either fill it, or get used to living with it being empty until it is filled again. 

A Taste of Reality

I need God and I need myself

Safe to say I'm done needing any body else

Yea people good to have but they ain't been but shit to me

Only got a couple friends that are close to me

Others claiming they know me well but don't know the rest of it

Guess it's my fault for acting desperate

Like I needed them and their input in my life

Well the hell with it

And the hell with you and the rest of them

You open up a little and they tear you apart

Good thing I stopped giving them shits my heart

That muscle been under lock and key Ever since the day my first love left me

Taught me a lesson I won't forget

Told me life's got no room for tears and regret

So if you're a mistake I made I'll bless you with my prayers

And if God don't listen then take it up with Him

And while you're there ask Him what's up with the trials he has me facing

Ask him why since the day RBlue left me it's been like I'm trynna replace him

Looking for the same affection in all the wrong places

Meaning I made dumb decisions that don't match my character

Still I ask God for forgiveness and heaven in the hereafter

I just want peace, happiness and uncontested laughter

Or maybe it's him that I'm still after

But by the looks of it my soul far too tarnished

Probably won't be able to love again

Je suis désolée excuse my harshness

But when I was innocent the world shitted on me

Now it's my turn to take a dump but that shit's scary

Cuz if I freeze my heart I'm afraid it won't be thawed out

Maybe that's the price I have to pay to protect myself

Love is but a fairy tale and unfortunately I ain't no sleeping beauty

That's why it's like I have these dark circles tattooed on me 

I get angry with life

Angry with God

Angry with you

My fault for not listening even though every word my momma said been true

Now all I have is this chaos to deal with

I been a mess

You just got to witness 

To The World (if you get the hint)

Sometimes you just gotta say screw it. This is who I am and if you ain't rockin with me then that's your loss. Not mine. I'm not even gonna edit this post. This is gonna be my thoughts just as they are in the order they come in. Read it and weep. Or rejoice. 

I cannot explain how the looks of disappointment I get from some of the closest people to me affect me. Or used to affect me. Feeling like I'm not good enough. Not smart enough. Religious enough. Interesting enough. Lovable enough. And to be honest I still feel like shit about it sometimes when I see people looking at me like "damn you changed", but at the same time if you ain't changing then you're not growing up. Yea I'm not who I am when I was 18. And guess what? That's cuz I'm NOT 18 anymore, so why do people expect me to stay the same? 

My parents say I'm not as "good" as I used to be. My friends think I'm not as happy. My siblings don't look at me the same. I don't look at me the same. For the longest time I tried to fix myself. Make myself something I'm not so that the people around me don't have to be disappointed every time they look at me. Like Nahla why don't you wear hijab like you used to? Nahla why don't you laugh like you used to? Why ain't you talking like you used to?

My answer? Cuz I used to do the shit people wanted to see, either it was my parents or siblings or whoever else was influencing me. Now I'm doing me and I don't needa do nothing more than that. My values stay the same. My core beliefs have stayed the same and probably will unless there's overwhelming evidence against them. My sky is still blue, people just seeing different clouds now. 

After realizing that I'm good how I am, and that improving doesn't have to mean changing to please others, I realized what I wanna live for. I want to dedicate my life to fighting for other people's right to be who they truly are. Especially women and young girls. We as a gender have been pressured to fit so many societal standards. A woman is never good enough, so society says. Not skinny enough but not curvy enough. We're not smart enough. Not religious enough. Not proper enough. Not sexy enough. Not wearing enough clothes. Not showing off our bodies enough. It's like we ain't ever good enough and we're always missing an element that would make us better. And even when we grab ahold of that element we gotta shoot for another higher star so we can keep up with the standards society sets. 

My opinion on that is simply "fuck society". I don't care if my whole life is a war against unrealistic standards and looks of disappointment. I will be who I want to be. Who my heart and mind lead me to be. If the people around me can't trust that who I want to be is good enough then that's their problem I guess. I am done living my life in the never ending cycle of pleasing others. I am done skewing my beliefs to fit what the people around me believe to be "right" and I wanna see other women and men living up to THEIR standards and living based off of THEIR beliefs and not those of others. 

That will be my message. 

C'est tout et #respecttheriot ✌️

How 9/11 Affects Muslims

Sept. 11, 2001. All of us know what happened that day. Many, if not all of us can recall exactly what we were doing and where we were when news broke that we had been attacked on our soil. I, for one, was a confused first-grader sitting at lunch when teachers suddenly rounded us up on buses, telling us we were going home early. I remember getting home that day and watching the news with my parents on CNN. I remember hearing my dad call my uncle in Brooklyn to see if his family was safe. I remember the events that followed 9/11 that have not only shaped American relations with the Middle East, but have made being Muslim a target of suspicion.

It’s easy to see the effect that extremism and so-called religiously backed violence has on Western nations, but it sometimes escapes the focus of many that Muslims, whether we are living in the West or elsewhere in the world, have been greatly affected as well. Extremists don’t just target non-Muslim countries; they also attack and kill Muslims who get in the way of their sick ideology. A Muslim who doesn’t support their horrendous acts is as much of a target as any other person.

In fact, terrorists groups have attacked and killed more Muslims than they have any other faith group. Not only do terrorist groups kill Muslims, but they also stand in the way of their respective countries’ advancement and security. For example, as much as the Taliban is hated in the U.S., it has done much more harm to Afghanistan and has affected the lives of many Afghans.

Individuals like Malala Yousafzai, the Afghan girl who was shot by the Taliban for speaking in defense of the education of women, show that Muslims are in fact targeted by extremist militants. The acts of terrorist groups have also had an indirect effect on Muslims. Many Muslim civilians have been killed in the war against terror, while those of us in the West have dealt with racism in one form or the other.

Extremism is not only a physical threat to the lives of many Muslims, but it also affects many of us psychologically. As a Muslim, I’ve grown tired of defending my religion and the rest of my community as a result of the acts of a senseless and ignorant minority. It seems as though Muslims cannot be just Muslim individuals; rather, we are all spokespeople for one another in a way that members of other faith groups don’t have to be. It’s as if being Muslim makes you a lawyer defending all other Muslims, or a prosecutor condemning the acts of those who deviate to the path of religious radicalism. The focus always turns to Muslims as if it’s each one of our responsibilities to condemn criminals, whether it’s by speaking out against al-Qaida or now the Islamic State (formerly ISIS). The racism many Muslims in the West face is also psychologically straining and creates a sense of self-hate among the younger generation, as if it has become shameful to be a Muslim in the 21st century.

So as another Sept. 11 goes by, let’s also keep in mind the Muslims who have had to pay for the acts of terrorism and been the target of radicalism. Three thousand Americans, including American Muslims, died as a result of the Sept. 11 attacks, with countless others dying as a result of the war against terror and the many acts of terror that followed and continue to occur to this day. The least we can do is commemorate the victims of radicalism equally.

Published by The Breeze, James Madison University's student run newspaper:

http://www.breezejmu.org/opinion/article_971d900c-3944-11e4-b55b-0017a43b2370.html

The Strength of Today

I’ve been thinking about respect a lot lately; self-respect, respecting others, qualities I respect and admire the most, qualities I don’t respect or tolerate, etc. And as a result, I’ve come to a very eye opening conclusion. Actually, it’s more of an epiphany. I found out that I respect strength most of all. Not physical strength, but the ability to emotionally and mentally rise in difficult times. I respect those who’ve been down in God knows where doing God knows what but have found the strength and motivation to better themselves. I respect those who’ve lost their way and made mistake after mistake only to find it in them to make a comeback. Because I admire such strength, I decided that I have enough self-respect to empower myself with that quality. Strength.

Being lost is part of the human journey. No one has lived a perfect life. No one has traveled a bump free road. We all have situations that come to our heads when we think of the word “regret”, but it seems that not everyone sees that because we all have our faults, that we should not judge one another. We should never look down upon those who have a “history”. Instead, we should respect those amongst us that have been in situations from which bouncing back is difficult. I know several examples of people who have been through dark times. Alcohol, drugs, health issues, you name it, Muslims and non-Muslims, but they have all been able to make a comeback. It makes me realize that if others have been through tough times and have been able to regain their strength, that there is no reason why I shouldn’t be able to do the same. There is no reason for you not to empower yourself. There is no reason for you to keep yourself in a situation where people, drugs and/or desires use and manipulate you. There is no reason for thinking that you are not good enough to be strong. That you don’t have what it takes, because you do. I do.

So when life throws bricks at you, use them to build a wall. Build yourself a fortress. Use the bricks to strengthen yourself, but don’t let the bricks bring you down. I’ve been accumulating bruises for a while now from life’s bricks, but, thanks to Allah, I’ve finally realized how to start building my wall up. I might not be where I want to be. My fortress might not be as strong as I would like, but it’s a start. I realized that I deserve to protect and love myself. My wall won’t shut people out. My wall won’t harden my soul. My wall will exist only to shield me from negativity and to build my strength up so that I may become amongst those whom I respect so much. The strong.  

And with that I leave you with a beautiful quote that I’ve stumbled upon: 

“The pain of yesterday is the strength of today” – Paulo Coelho

Peace and much love to y’all J

The Golden Rule

There comes a time in our lives when we realize how petty and unfortunate humanity can really be. How nosey, hypocritical, manipulative, disgusting, and all around ignorant people can be sometimes. Instead of helping one another, you'll find that people in close knit communities or minority groups are constantly putting one another down, instead of strengthening and supporting each other. You find women bashing their sisters. Men taking part in unnecessary physical or verbal drama. Countries going to war. Human killing human with no remorse or mercy. Not only will many people engage in such horrendous acts (gossip, backbiting, murder, theft, cheating etc.), but they will also try to drag you into their activities and expect you to be as low as they are. Try hard as you can to stay clean, you will still at least be accused of things you haven't done. Your reputation will become a résumé crafted by people who don't even know you, laced with "achievements" you never took part in.

It's when we realize all this that many of us will say, "well f*ck it", right? Why should I put in the effort of making this world a better place when all it's ever been and will be is a set constructed just to be destroyed by its own actors? Why should I treat others with respect, dignity and empathy when I will most likely never get the same treatment in return? Why should I try being a decent human being when even then, people will find ways to pick at me and accuse me of flaws I might not even have? I find myself asking these questions quite often, sometimes even more than once daily and lemme tell ya, it puts quite a damper on my mood. But then I remember the most golden rule of all; do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It's a staple rule in every religion, it's the cornerstone of morality, in my opinion, and it's what makes us merciful beings and not hungry predators.

No matter what people say or do to me, I always try to remember to treat others as I would like to be treated. It's a simple rule whose application is sometimes just as simple, or infinitely more complicated and difficult. It takes a plethora of patience, even more self-control and the ability to let go of all anger and resentment to say you completely live by this rule. Unfortunately though, we cannot always let go of our anger and put aside our frustrations, but we should at least try to elevate ourselves above what's petty and unnecessary. I know that I myself, am taking it as one of my goals for this Ramadan to be more mindful of the golden rule, and I hope and pray that all of you do the same. Imagine a world where people are compassionate rather than revengeful and conniving. A world as such can only exist if we look within ourselves to try to fix our own flaws, as opposed to looking at others and pointing out their faults.

As always, peace and much love to y'all and a Ramadan kareem to all who celebrate :)

And with that I'll end with this verse:

"O you who have believed, let not a people ridicule [another] people; perhaps they may be better than them; nor let women ridicule [other] women; perhaps they may be better than them. And do not insult one another and do not call each other by [offensive] nicknames. Wretched is the name of disobedience after [one's] faith. And whoever does not repent - then it is those who are the wrongdoers" (Quran 49:11) 

The Illusion of Hope

It’s strange the ways through which hope works. We get these grand ideas and for a moment, we begin to see them as more than just concepts. Sometimes we even set out on a journey by which those ideas and hopes come to fruition- but not enough for them to be picked out our minds and put in the salad plate that is our lives.  It’s that moment when we realize the fruit hasn’t ripened enough to eat, or worse, has died in some way or another, that we lose hope in our grand schemes. Disappointment steals our ambitions and just like that, we are left with nothing but memories of dreams we had.

This applies to anything we have ever hoped for but were disappointed with at the end. Personal relationships, career goals, school, health, politics etc. are all areas in our lives in which we make the most human mistake and focus on our hopes instead of on reality. An even bigger mistake that we make is believing that our hopes ARE in fact reality. We become so focused on whatever dream we have that we begin to live our lives around it, plan around that dream as if it is already set in stone. Then reality hits you- and guess what? Your hopes and dreams are now nothing but a pile of disorganized events that you started but never finished.

I can tell you, and tell myself, to never hope for what’s unrealistic but that would do you no good because it’s usually the realistic goals that disappoint us in the end. I never hoped to sprout wings and fly then got disappointed when I woke up in the morning wingless. But I was very disappointed in that grade I got because I thought I worked hard enough for a better one. I’m disappointed that my personal relationships don’t go how I like them to, whether they are romantic or otherwise, even though I’ve put in effort for them to succeed. The effort we put into whatever goals we’re trying to achieve make us believe we’re entitled to success and that our hopes are merely a reflection of those dreams coming to fruition.  That is the mistake we make. We lean on a wall that has no real support and when we fall we are disappointed by the wall’s inability to hold our weight.

It is of utmost importance that we learn to live our lives with hope as our enemy. This is not to sound depressing or pessimistic. It’s to avoid pain and suffering. Work towards your goals, but realize that success has a 50% chance of occurring. A 50% is an F. If you think about it that way you will realize that no matter what you do or how hard you try, there are other forces that come into play that might deem your efforts uninfluential in the grand scheme of things. Yes, work hard, but don’t ever rely on success and definitely don’t plan your life around illusions.

C’est tout pour maintenant

And as always, peace and much love to y’all 

A Month Later

The tears that took me to sleep still stain my cheeks

The mascara still on my pillow case

From a month ago when you left forever

When I was made to feel easy to replace

A month later and I’m still wondering how your heart could betray me so

As if my love to you was worthless, nothing

You ask why it’s hard for me to let go

Tell a child their imaginary friend is and was never real

Such was the place I held for you

Perfection only my imagination could create and love only Disney characters knew

A month later and I still dream

Hope

Wonder

A month later and still ink, tears and blood have spilled for you

But it was only a summer’s dream extended too far

Sweet lies freckled with unseen truths

The reason behind your sudden goodbye

A summer’s dream, a summer’s dream….

A month ago when I realized the warmth I felt embraced by was never more than ice,

A glacier I had failed to see,

Now a month later I realize the devil wears the best disguise

No. The devil wasn’t you. 

The devil was love that came to me so pure

But still a month later and it’s still hard to believe this love wasn’t true

Those words you said

The pain you caused

My love was strong enough to endure

A month later my prayer is still maybe one day

I still say inshallah and I know he’s not so bad

While I sit to ponder

Wonder

Was it all a waste?

Those feelings I gave to you?

Should I regret that summer’s day?

That winter love?

Followed by a spring’s decay?

A month later and enough for you isn’t anywhere near enough for me

And I’m left with the knowledge that I gave my first love to you

That my innocence was pried away from my heart

As forcefully as flowers bloom

A month later and sometimes I can’t help but think you weren’t worth the effort

Said forever but forever ended way too soon

With memories I’ll never forget of the darkness you forced me into

Tunnels with no end in sight

Because a month later I can swear my love is true

And all I have is we didn’t see eye to eye and my heart told me to leave you behind

It was a summer’s dream

And you became its nightmare

A nightmare so sweet I can’t seem to let it go

So how can you blame me for loving you?

Wasn’t that the point all along?

But a month later I see my emotions are still as strong as fourteen months ago

While yours cower in comparison with proof in the words you speak

A month later and my love’s still yours to keep

While yours has fled to lands I only reach when I close my eyes to sleep

A month later and I still can’t accept this goodbye

A month later...

4 am

It's 4 am somewhere in my head

A land I go to for comfort

It's 4 am whenever I lay in bed

Awake because my dreams are too real they push me back to reality 

It's 4 am when I wake to think what could've I done different 

It seems I was a plague to be rid of...

It's 4 am when I realize it won't ever be the same

It's 4 am when I look up to God to ask Him why with tears in my eyes

It's 4 am when I lose my religion 

Because it's faith that got me here

It's 4 am when I look at my phone to check the time 

Still 4 am

It's always 4 am somewhere in my head 

Regaining Myself

I don’t need to explain myself, but I will share my thoughts with y’all because that’s just what I do.

I’ve been going through a tough experience. If you follow me on any social media site you probably got the hint. I lost someone who meant a lot to me, and no, nobody died. As a result, I lost sight of myself. I lost sight of my own happiness. I put others above myself and was taken for granted. I blame myself. I blame my openness with people. I blame myself for believing that promises weren’t actually meant to be broken and I blame myself for being innocent in a world that crushes any sense of humanity out of humans. I blame myself.

The problem isn’t what happened to me, but the effect it had on my confidence, my happiness, and my self-respect. I’m not a stupid girl. Actually, let me rephrase that, I’m not a stupid woman. I’m just a young woman, learning, growing and maturing with every experience I go through. Crazy right? People might judge me and I stopped caring quite frankly. “You don’t know what I been through!” Every person copes differently with the struggles they go through. I can’t judge a person and say one way of coping is right or wrong, so neither should anyone sit and point fingers at me. But again, do I expect people to be nonjudgmental? No. Do I expect there to be fake people who will smile in my face and slander me in my absence? Yes. But it doesn’t matter anymore because I can’t change the fact that somebody has so much time on their hands that my problems become their conversation.

That being said, I’m starting to realize the importance of seclusion. I won’t become an introvert, but I won’t approach people thinking they’re kind hearted and have my best interest in mind. People hardly ever have your best interest in mind and if you haven’t realized that yet, take it from someone who’s learned the hard way. I’m going to continue blogging and sharing my thoughts and posting whatever it is that my mind feels I need to share, but I won’t allow people to get close to me. My individuality, my life, my feelings, aren’t things that people should readily have access to. This doesn’t mean I’ll be rude to people or coldhearted, I’ll just start keeping to myself. I’ll focus on myself. It’s safer.

And with that…

Peace and much love to y’all  

Express Yourself

I've been told that being emotional is a sign of weakness, especially if you're showing those emotions on social media. If you tweet something emotional, or post something on Instagram that's not the "norm" you'll be looked at as strange or attention seeking. What some people fail to realize is that those emotional tweets or Instagram posts aren't for others to judge. People can like them and agree with you, but if you tweet so people can follow you, then that's a whole other issue. 

I use social media as a window to my thoughts. I'm not scared of putting my feelings out there. Not scared of expressing myself no matter how people will view me. So go ahead, assume and speculate, but I'll never stop being the only Nahla. Because there's never going to be another me. Nobody will experience life the way I do, so what I share with the world is just another perspective. It's not a sign of weakness. You don't have to agree, but you have to respect other people's freedom of expression. 

C'est tout.

Much peace and love to y'all 

Treasure

Look at me and tell me what you see 

Mirrors on walls that intricately describe my physical

These clothes that hug my curves and those arms that deliver my soul

All part of a person life tried to console 

A treasure within me 

Can you see my heart through my reflection?

A treasure within me that results in all pleasures this world can give me 

What do you see? 

I see a mouth that speaks iridescence 

Like rainbows on rainy days 

I am the conflict in your peace

I am the branch in your way

You will listen

My words will not be ignored

And torn from me like a child from her mother's embrace 

I am the woman who came to this world and got lost along the way 

I am the cloud that traveled and covered the sun's harmful rays

I am human

So tell me what you see in the mirror when only my reflection shows

Cold nights in December along with late March woes 

I am a product of the words I hear and images I see

I am a product of the emotions this world forced me to feel

These clothes that cover my skin can never hide the woman that I am

Such as that my curves show through these worldly materials 

My thoughts will radiate off my mental

And my eyes will open up my soul so that you see the woman within

I've been very inspired to write more lately whether it's poetry, regular blog posts or articles for my school. I hope that y'all enjoy my self expression, or at least appreciate that I have found a way to create a unique voice for myself.

Much peace and love to all y'all :)

Confessions on the couch

I'm lost. Lost in a maze to which there is no end in sight. I hear voices around me. I see people. But I'm not listening. I'm not looking. The only real feelings I have are tied to a person who took off. And so I'm lost within my own mind, the days stretching out in front of me. Time is no longer linear. Time is a paper on which ink travels. Swirls. Random words pieced together. A plane through which I can travel but only in my mind. I can go back to the beginning. Steer my way to the present. Make my way up to the future. But never am I in reality even while traveling through present time. My mind wanders to memories I find comfort in and only my eyes realize that I'm no longer in the past because all I see is stone cold faces. People that'll never understand just how much he meant to me. And upon this realization, my eyes provide me with the most inconvenient reminder of my sense of misdirection. Tears. A dead giveaway. A clear signal that I'm nowhere near ok. But just as graffiti hides plain walls, my hands slowly make their way to my eyes to hide my tears. I'm not weak. I just fell in love with the wrong person.

Ghosts

There's no escape from this reality

I cry even in my dreams

Call your name to see your face

I've gone to both extremes

Writing poetry to ease my mind

My smile isn't what it seems

And there's a mess inside that I can't hide with flowery talk and flirtation 

Dreams and aspirations written in rhythm and rhyme 

Still have those for my memory 

Words I cemented in time 

Loyal to the verses you wrote me 

It's what got me interested in all honesty 

Now you use those same words against me 

And I love you

Sadly I still do

But with time I guess I'll forget

The man I loved the most

Burn those poems in a bonfire

And watch as their ashes transform into ghosts 

List of things I want to do by the age of 35

• Get a Ph.D

• Go to France and be able to speak French fluently 

• Land a job in DC for the government or a women's right organization 

• Travel to all major cities in the U.S

• Play the violin

• Change someone's life for the better even if by doing something small

• Adopt a child (whether I'm married or not) 

• Go to a Beyoncé concert and meet her 

• Fall in love with the RIGHT person 

• Visit both my grandfathers' graves... Something I'm really terrified of doing 

Sexism and Sexual Assault

To show a weaker individual respect is one of the noblest acts I can think of. It’s unfortunate to admit that in most countries around the world, it is women who are usually categorized as the weaker of the sexes. This isn’t only because of the obvious physical differences between men and women, but because of the lack of equal opportunities whether they be educational, professional, or political. This gap between the opportunities and rights provided to men and women is not only an issue we see in third world countries, but is a notion that exists in post industrial countries as well. This can be seen through the difference in wages and through the sexualization of women in return for profit.

But one of the most degrading and demeaning forms of sexism comes in the shape of sexual assault, both physical and verbal. Unfortunately I have experienced both and know exactly how it feels to be reduced to nothing in the eyes of creatures that hold zero respect for their female counterparts. Nothing except breasts and a behind that is. It is one thing to be attracted to an individual, but another to make them victim to your uncontrolled and animalistic behavior. I’ve been followed and grabbed by strangers. I’ve also been the target of disgusting verbal advances. I don’t know many girls who can safely and confidently say they’ve never been subjected to either and it makes me wonder why so many women have to live with such painful memories.

The reason I tie the issue of sexual assault and sexism is simple. If you were to respect an individual for their intellectuality, creativity and personality, you would never put them in a position where they would fall victim to your unwanted advances. You would value their character and integrity far too much to even think about putting them through such painful experiences. It’s not about what a woman wears that forces some men to take advantage of her. It’s a predator’s ignorance and lack of respect for the opposite sex. In many cultures women are still seen as inferior to men. Women are there for men’s sexual pleasure and their need to pass down their genes to other offspring who may inherit the same lack of respect for women. They cycle is ongoing and hard to break in countries where education is sparse.

Teaching men how to value women is not the only solution though. Many times women start to believe that they are in fact less important than men as a result of their culture. Women too need to be educated because without an education, there is little room for improvement. An education leads to job opportunities, which later leads to independence from a male provider.  This dependence has created a relationship between men and women where women have to sacrifice their goals, needs, and desires in return for their survival. Without a man there’s no income and without income there’s little room for anything else.  

It’s hard for me to comprehend why in the 21^st century there are still people, both male and female, who believe one sex is superior to the other.  It’s even more baffling to think that in a country where freedom and individuality are valued, the words “female” and “feminist” are used as insults. I, myself, have been insulted by a person who thought that being called female was apparently something that would insult a woman, and that being a feminist was somehow synonymous for stubborn and “won’t ever get married”. I’ve even been told that independent women are the cause of failed marriages. To see that these ideas exist in a so called advanced country is worrisome because of the implications it holds in regards to how women in less advanced countries are being treated. This universal culture of sexism is an injustice to both men and women. Yes there are some things that women are better at taking care of than men and vice versa because of our physical and psychological make-up, but we cannot settle for anything less than equality between all people regardless of gender, race, religion or ethnicity when it comes to respect and opportunity.   

In Honor of a Great & Wise Man: Malcolm X (El Hajj Malik El-Shabaz)

"Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you're a man, you take it."

I never learned about Malcolm X in school. His name was brought up once or twice, always followed by stern adjectives. If it were up to my free public education in Virginia, I would’ve always thought Malcom X to be a man who believed that coexistence was impossible. This portrayal of Brother Malcolm was of course followed (if ever even mentioned) by lessons on Martin Luther King Jr’s peaceful and loving legacy. The contrast was apparent. School taught me that Malcolm X was a villain while Martin Luther King was the only good guy.

It was only upon reading the autobiography of Malcolm X that I began to realize how cheated I was out of learning about an important figure in American history. Public schools withheld the legacy of a man who fought for equality, not just on a racial level, but on a religious level as well. Malcolm X’s conversion to Islam was the start of his journey to a more open and inclusive vision of humanity. Yes, he was a controversial figure as a result of his involvement in the Nation of Islam at first, but what many don’t know is that he left that close minded philosophy and became part of mainstream Islam; a religion that preaches equality across religious and racial lines.  

I don’t know the exact reasons why educators decided to undermine Malcolm X’s efforts in building a stronger and more tolerant American public, but I have a feeling it goes back to him being a Muslim man. At least that’s the reason administrators in a state like Virginia might base their decision off of. The fact that he was an influential Muslim man might scare some far right conservatives and speaking of his legacy might be viewed as “Muslim propaganda”.  Angry parents might call schools asking why teachers are “indoctrinating” their children. Instead of realizing that a figure such as Malcolm could bring together a nation that has marginalized a portion of its citizens (and by that I mean Muslims), it is instead decided upon to throw Malcolm’s legacy to the side.  

As an American Muslim, I would like to see students learn as much about Malcolm X as they learn about Martin Luther King Jr. Muslims have been, and still are, a part of American society. We contribute to it, live in it, pay taxes, but hardly get represented. Like Malcolm X, we are undermined and ignored. That is until a Muslim commits an act of terror. Then you can be rest assured the media will educate you enough on the matters of Muslims. Just keeping it real.

Peace and much love to y’all.   

Hijabi On Campus

I recently saw a video on Buzzfeed created by a group of African American students at UCLA's law school, describing how it feels to be at a school which is predominantly white. Now I know this is a touchy subject at a campus like James Madison University’s, but that video inspired me share my thoughts on this matter. This is not my opinion on the admission’s process or any type of affirmative action policy JMU might or might not abide by.

First let me introduce myself. I'm a nineteen year old Muslim American woman. I’m a hijabi, meaning I wear the hijab (or scarf) to cover my hair. I was born and raised in the United States, but my parents emigrated here from Egypt twenty years ago. I'm from Harrisonburg, Virginia. My dad works here as a computer science professor. My mother works at a day care center. I'm a sophomore on a full merit scholarship thanks to the Dingledine's, and I'm double majoring in political science and international relations. I'm fluent in both English and Arabic (although I find it easier to communicate in English).  

The reason why I gave you that little excerpt describing who I am is to then explain how it feels to be a racial/religious/ethnic minority, a feeling most JMU students might not be able to relate to. Picture yourself in a constant struggle to prove people wrong and you might have a slight understanding of how I feel. No I’m not oppressed. Yes I speak English. No I wasn’t born across the Atlantic. No I’m not a close minded conservative. Yes you can approach me same as you can approach anyone else. No I’m not an international student. The list goes on and on. You might not consciously have these questions but how I’m treated on campus by many students definitely reflects such thoughts. I’ve had people tell me “oh you don’t seem like the typical Arab”. To which I’m left wondering what exactly is the typical Arab and how will a person born and raised here know what that is. I’ve also been told I don’t dress like a lot of Muslim hijabi girls and that I’m more “fashionable”. Again this alludes to some kind of assumption that Muslim girls and fashion don’t mix. I understand these misconceptions come from people not personally knowing Muslim girls, but come on now…We’re all in college and should know better than to say these things.

I also often find myself in situations where it seems as if people are scared to approach me. I feel isolated, misunderstood and sometimes uncomfortable on such a huge campus. I’m a pretty social person and I approach people quite often, more than people have ever approached me, so I don’t blame myself for how I feel. Not only that, but I feel like I have to represent the American Muslim woman in the best way I can because I don’t have much help on this campus in that regard. I personally know of three other American Muslim hijabis on campus, while the rest are international students. I not only have to maintain my personal image, but the image of women in my community. I have to break people’s misconceptions and be a good representative of girls like me.

The difficulty doesn’t only stem from my responsibility to represent Muslim women, but also from an internal struggle. It’s hard waking up every morning and looking in the mirror thinking “look how different I am from all my classmates”. Different is good as long as people understand you, but it becomes a hassle when you feel like people aren’t approaching because you’re different from them. It’s also hard holding on to your identity and beliefs around people who have a completely different outlook on life and know little to nothing about your experience. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very proud of who I am and I try to educate people as much as I could, but I would also like for  people to take it upon themselves to learn about those around them. Reaching out to others will broaden your horizons and introduce you to people of many backgrounds, so don’t hesitate to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Everyone should feel welcome on their campus, but reality is, if you’re a minority you’ve probably felt quite the opposite at times. Some argue that subcultures don’t assimilate well, but the other side of that story is sometimes we’re not allowed to fully assimilate because of how we’re viewed. 

Moody Confession

I go through periods of severe moodiness. Sometimes it's pms and sometimes it's just because my brain decides to ruin my mood. Either way, I've been having a lot of trouble with my little situation. The smallest things will put me in the worst of moods to the point where I'll either start punching things or crying. It's very unhealthy because it not only affects me but affects those around me. My demeanor and actions are severely influenced by my moods, so you can only imagine what my loved ones put up with when I'm moody. 

I'm not quite sure how to manage my moods and actions so that one is not so greatly affected by the other. I can, for the most part, fake being ok but the facade quickly slips when I interact with people who are very close to me. I don't mean to be hurtful or angry and I do recognize my attitude as a problem, but I can't for the life of me know what's wrong. Maybe it's me being childish or immature, but I'm gonna turn twenty in a few months and it's not gonna be so good carrying that attitude into adulthood. It seems much easier said than done to just stop being moody and get on with life. It definitely sounds easy to me when I'm in a good mood- it's when I'm in a horrible state of mind that moving on seems impossible. I'm not sure who to turn to for this or if this is just something I'll grow out of, but talking about it is definitely therapeutic. 

If you're going through this or know of a way to quickly snap out of your tantrum like moods please let me know. I'll greatly appreciate it. I've tried everything from stress balls to breaking pencils and I still find myself stuck in this annoying cycle of moodiness. So yea....

Peace and much love to y'all 

My Opinion on the Egyptian "Situation"

It seems like Egypt has been all over the news for the past three years. And for good reason.  Egypt’s a mess. Whether you’re an Egyptian or just a person who follows the news, you know how unstable Egypt has been. Being an Egyptian American makes it especially hard no to get caught up in the black hole that is now Egyptian politics.Three years after the revolution, Egypt still seems to be fighting the same battle. I’ve been to Egypt twice in the last three years and many times before the revolution and I can honestly say that the country now is worse than it has ever been.

Let me break it down for you. After Mubarak, Egypt’s former dictator, was ousted, the Egyptian military ruled what was an interim government. During that period, many political parties formed or regained their vigor with the hope that democracy will allow them to pursue their political goals. The Egyptian people were impatient and protested against the military’s rule of Egypt. “Down, down with military rule” was the chant that I and many others took to the streets with.Mubarak was just another army general after all, and repeating the same mistake of trusting the military was something Egyptians were not willing to do. Back in 2011 that is. Anyway, one of the political groups that rose to power during that period was the Muslim Brotherhood. Yes, and who are they exactly you might ask? Well, the Muslim Brotherhood, or MB, is an old Egyptian political party that was founded on basic Islamic principles. They aren’t extremists, but they’re also not the most liberal, as with most religious political organizations out there.

Nonetheless, the MB gained a lot of supporters and won Egypt’s first democratic and fair presidential elections, making Morsy Egypt’s first democratically elected president.  I was there when Morsy won and the happiness and hope people had regarding the new president was at an all-time high. Of course not everyone agreed with the MB or Morsy and I myself was hesitant about the dangerous mixture of religion and politics especially that Egypt has a considerable Coptic population, and did not want the MB in power during such a critical time for Egypt.

A year or so passed and Egypt’s thirty years of corruption weren’t magically fixed. What strikes me as most detrimental to the Egyptian revolution (the failed revolution) is that people were not patient and expected results from Morsy right away. They hadn’t even let him finish his four year term when again Egyptians took to the streets in June of 2013 and gave what the military called “permission” to throw him out of office. Soon afterwards, none other than the military took over Egypt again in what many described as a military coup and the head of the military, General Sisi, is “running” for president in the upcoming elections. An election in which there will probably be no opposition.

Even more concerning is the fact that many anti-military protesters have died, with around 50 people dying on the revolution’s third anniversary due to clashes with police and army forces. The MB has been since called a terrorist group and any outward support for them may lead to police brutality or a jail sentence. What’s even more baffling is the number of Egyptians who support the military after all the blood shed they’ve caused. 

Still, I have hope for Egypt. Hope that one day the poor and powerless will have a say in their future. That religion won’t be used as a political tool to gather votes and neither will the media use people’s ignorance to their advantage. Times like these are when I most appreciate being an American. I can voice my opinions with a greater amount of freedom than almost anywhere else. I just hope one day that freedom can be extended to people all over the world.  

Peace and much love to y'all :) 

Welcome to Nowhere: Part One

Welcome to nowhere. 

A hand extends itself to me. I see no facial features. Just a half naked body. A male. His voice as comforting as sunsets in July. I take his hand. 

Welcome to nowhere. 

You don't know me. As a matter of fact you don't even know yourself as well as you should. You're a nobody. 

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

You're trapped. You don't know where to go. These walls are limiting. Your heart chains you down within them. You find comfort in your bondage.

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

I look around, my toes delving deep into warm sand. I see waves. I hear them crashing. I hear screams in the distance. Help!!!!!

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

I see people drowning. We should help them. Look! You can't hear their screams? Let's go help them please. Can you swim?

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

We walk across the sand until we reach heavy forestation. There're trees everywhere but no birds in sight. No chirping. No leaves rustling. 

Where am I? 

Welcome to nowhere. 

We allow the trees to devour us as we walk along a jagged path. I begin to see movement in the trees. I begin to hear a soft slithering. A poisonous yet entrancing hiss. Snakes. 

Where am I? 

Welcome to nowhere. 

The snakes come in closer. They're beautiful. Elegant. Sly. Their eyes all on me, still hissing as if hungry. I can't help but be mesmerized. Their hissing provides a comfort in this unknown place. A familiar and repetitive noise.

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

We move out the forest and onto an empty plain. I see nothing except a throne with a man sitting on top. God like. A king. Proud. In his hands he holds a key. Plays around with it, amused by how it turns and slides through his fingers. He smiles. 

Where am I?

Welcome to nowhere. 

The king is crowned with a water droplets. Not sweat. Tears align themselves across his head like a halo. Entwined with intricate gold. This is laughter, the man holding my hand says. He is crowned with tears and laughter. 

Where am I? 

Welcome to nowhere