For Ramadaan and beyond.
I could have been a Sakinah, a Qur-atul-Ayn or a Naseeha.
Had I popped into this world Y-chromosomed and cocksure, I may have been named Dhul […]
Some of the things I will miss:
- Walking everywhere at anytime without having one of my hands pat a can of pepper spray
- Halaal everything
- Egyptian halwayat (a […]
…there is no honour killing, only honourable living.
No woman is forced in to or out of a burka.
The mind is valued over the mob.
We celebrate […]
It was 3 AM and I was digging a hole in the desert.
Christa stood next to me.
In the torch light, she was a fidgety monster patting a bundle in her arms.
“Is it done yet Tess?”
Her voice was gritty in the smooth silence.
“Almost there hun, you just hang on.”
She went back to poking at the swaddle and cooing in delirium.
“Uh-huh, I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry. Momma’s gonna try and make this better you hear? I’ll be better next time. I’m so sorry.”
I’ve been here three times before; digging holes for Christa in the desert.
You could call me a good friend.
Dependable. Complicit. Fucking insane.