The Art of Caring for a Disabled Mother

photo credit: (c) Kholood Eid, 2014 A few nights ago, I was asked by my father to come in the evening and shower my mother. My mom suffered a severe stroke in 2008, which left her disabled and in need of care. During the first couple of years, my dad and I would help herContinue reading “The Art of Caring for a Disabled Mother”

Stuck in Syria

(c) photo by khulud khamis. Occupied Golan Heights, 2014. Revisiting some pieces that may have the potential to develop into short stories, and which are based on our absurd, often Kafkaesque reality, here’s a piece that was initially part of Haifa Fragments, but which was ultimately edited out. I mourned the cutting out of this specificContinue reading “Stuck in Syria”

International Women’s Day 2016

something spontaneous and short i wrote 3 years ago for the International Women’s Day. Wishing women all over the world life free of all forms of oppression and violence in which we can be who we are, pursue our aspirations and dreams and feel safe. woman wake up stand up straight unbending raise your voiceContinue reading “International Women’s Day 2016”

The Silencing of Women

Singing and writing – of all the arts, to my belief, these two are perceived as the most dangerous by any patriarchal society that wishes to keep its women silenced and oppressed. Because singing and writing are expressions of voice, and we are expected not to raise our voices and remain silent, and silence meansContinue reading “The Silencing of Women”

Who’s afraid of a woman in Hijab?

My fiction writing is based on reality, thus – fictionalized realities. The following fragment from “Taboos in Arabic,” the manuscript-in-progress, is based on actual incidents that happened during Israel’s military attack on Gaza in the Summer of 2014.   The whole country is on fire. And not because of the Tammuz heat. Another military attackContinue reading “Who’s afraid of a woman in Hijab?”

On Sexual Violence – personal experience

The memories come like a flood. I’m 15 or 16, it’s either July or August. I’m pedalling someone’s bicycle up a one lane road. The road curves and bends. Mostly, it is dark, the shadows of trees thick on the asphalt. As I reach one particular bend, I take a deep in-breath, and speed up.Continue reading “On Sexual Violence – personal experience”