On the experience of growing up as a girl, when the body begins to change. I relate to this so much. Will be writing a short piece about this, and am interested in hearing similar or different experiences. Any women who relate to this? Your thoughts? How did you feel when your body started to… Read More The act of getting smaller while growing up as a girl
walking through the hell of memory I won’t be tied down by – memory of your ugly acts. My body won’t be wrecked just because you – desecrated it violated it damaged it. All these wounds of mine – they are mine to claim. I will make beautiful art with them. … Read More walking through the hell of memory
An excerpt from “Taboos in Arabic,” my current writing project Trigger warning: post-trauma, sexual assault. With Suleiman, time redefined itself. Often, we didn’t have any need for words and we would only sit somewhere for hours, back to back or side by side, our bodies touching. And it was enough, for me. We lived in… Read More triggered – excerpt from “Taboos in Arabic” work-in-progress
Come, don’t be afraid Take a closer look At my body. Can you see the map? I’ve mapped out the battlefield, Especially for you. All the wars fought on it. To the North – the ruptured country To the East – the desert of pain To the South – the river of blood To the… Read More The cartography of my body
English and Arabic this is my body wounded, ripped, ruptured, bleeding. It’s been made a battlefield. But today, I reclaim it. And one day, it will heal. هذا جسدي المجروح، النازف والممزق والذي قد جعلوا منه ساحة حرب اليوم، سأدوّن ملكيّتي على جسدي، سأضمّد جراحه وفي يوم ما سيصبح معافى . #meToo #healing #وأنا_كمان #تسكتيش Tuskuteesh (don’t remain… Read More #MeToo – I’m a survivor of sexual violence
A memory: I walk outside to smoke a cigarette, or three. I get a horrible coffee from the vending machine – need caffeine, don’t care that it tastes like shit. The time is somewhere between one and three in the morning – I lost track of it. This night, the longest in my life. I… Read More on depression – memory, at the hospital
This is a rough translation of an attempt to write a poem in Arabic. The poem has obviously been lost in translation, but still, I wanted to share this with you. I’ll be writing on this in English in the coming period, and probably will use this rough translation as a basis for something more… Read More Fragments of a soul – شظايا روح
