Identity

Bigly Fears

Last November, my journal was filled with pages blank from neglect. Donald Trump had just won the presidential election, and although writing often paves a way to truth for me, this time, I could manage only one sentence: I’m scared.      I’m scared had hummed over the last two decades of my life: I had…

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This is What America Looks Like

We landed at JFK Airport on a sweltering August day twenty-seven years ago.  Me, my two younger brothers, and my parents – arriving to stay with a relative in Staten Island until my engineer dad could find a job.  From Pakistan my parents had migrated to Saudi Arabia, and at…

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Don’t Call Me a Hijabi

Hijabi. The word stumbles about my tongue in an ungainly fashion instead of rolling off gracefully. When it escapes my mouth, it falls flat. I realize then that I hate it. This word confines me within a box, reducing who I am as a human being to a dress code…

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