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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The Middle East’s secret religion

“It doesn’t matter if it is DKNY, the bag itself is beautiful.” The comment sprung on me like an ambush of sorts, with the fragile veiling of a back-handed compliment. I’d rather buy a beautiful vintage street bag from Sunday Bazaar than an ugly one from Valentino, I silently responded…

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