It was fate

That I’d move in the summer I fell in love

That you’d put together my bed with sturdy hands

That I’d make memories in a large empty hall

That I’d find new ways to smile

And that I’d remind myself to stand tall

It was fate
That I’d move out on valentines

That I’d be alone 

That I’d stretch my body in bed

To take up the space you left 

It was fate
That we both closed doors 

That we sent each other subtle messages 

That were clear as day to us

That said I can’t love you anymore

Because I want you to be a good person

Because I want you to find love without me

Because I know I am not good to you

Or for you

It was fate 
That you walked in when hurting myself was all I could feel

And you walked out with empty hands

And when I began to teach myself how to heal. 

When I came here
These stairs were so clean

Now I am leaving 

I broomed them so 

The next person could climb them up

And make use of the space I abandoned when you made it hurt to sleep there alone.

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The Middle Eastern Girl’s Guide to Self-Care During Trump Chaos

By now, unless you’re living under a rock, you have been hit with headline after headline announcing the shit-storm that Trump is creating. Our education, environment, and human rights are going to shit.

If you’re a Middle Eastern, Muslim female, your right to self-determination has been threatened by this administration.

I’m going to use myself as an example. My parents are Afghan refugees. I maintain contact with family back in Afghanistan, many have visited since my family resettled here.

My roommates, who I am incredibly close to, are both hijabis of Syrian and Sudanese descent (both countries on Trump’s banned list).

So this little apartment in Glendale, with one Afghan, one Sudanese, and one Syrian, is buzzing with Trump news. We are mortified. We are worried about our families. About our safety.

In the midst of this chaos, I have found the following list of items to be therapeutic for me:

  1. Eat a PB & J. Hits the spot everytime

  1. Watch re-runs of the Real Housewives of Atlanta. They’re funny as hell & it helps keep your mind off the apocaplypse happening in Washington

  1. Read the story of the Pharoah Ramses II in the Qur’an. Remember what happens to a tyrannical leader? Homie is chillin in a box for the whole world to see what happens to despots: “Today we will preserve your body so you can be a Sign for people who come after you. Surely many people are heedless of Our Signs.”[10:91-92] This story is sure to uplift you.


  1. Listen to Girls by M.I.A.

  1. Run a mile every night

  1. Delete the Facebook app from your phone. Deactivate your account if you real serious

  1. Read The Autobiography of Malcolm X

  1. Wash dishes to your favorite Dariush song, on louddddddd


  1. Order Ajarski, Lebne and fries, in that order

  1. Listen to 2pac

  1. Watch Devdas and realize SRK plays an abusive alcoholic

      12. Call your family every night and tell them you love their little immigrant selves <3

Oh and the most important rule in my self-care during this time??? IGNORE ALLLLL THE HATERS. I’m sure it’s weird realizing good friends are Trump supporters. It’s weird knowing that people who personally know you support an administration that is doing everything to harm you. So my advice is to hide their updates on your timeline, delete, or block them. Some might think that’s childish but for real no body got time for that shit lol. 

I know it’s a scary time for us. I keep imagining my mother’s story of survival. Her tired hands now and what must be running through her mind. But don’t be afraid. Hold onto hope and practice Sabr, we need that now more than ever. A tactic in oppression is breaking the spirit of the group you are trying to oppress. Do not let these headlines make you feel hopeless. Do you know who you are? You are the wildest dreams of your ancestors. You are the brightest star in your lineage of warriors. You are capable, and you are ready. The spirit of our people will NEVER ever falter. So clear your mental energy. Take care of yourself. Listen to your body & your mind & your spirit. I know you are a social justice warrior & you contemplate your place in the American fabric at night. But every soldier needs a break, too. So please, do not overwhelm your precious minds with the pain. You will need that power soon enough.


Peace Be Upon You,


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No Ban No Wall

my people you are so misunderstood. you suffer the most and are offered the least. half of our heart is with you. the protests, the outcry, these are symptoms of our guilty consciences, my broken people…. that our families left so long ago and came here when it was still a welcoming place. why did you stay then? u were braver than us. God must love you the most because He tests your every breath. i am so sorry that we are here and you are there. #NoBanNoWall

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I miss Marissa,

My pretty island girl with flowers in her hair

She always smelled like vanilla and hairspray

And she was the only person I wanted to laugh with.

When Southern breezes swept our faces, we just smiled and held hands,

And when people passed, she asked me earnestly, how could I handle & keep my composure?

I looked to her softly, with mother Moon gazing over,

“I have no other choice.” & she wept for me.

And for ten years, we celebrated this cycle;

Laughing, smiling, holding and crying.

Reminding each other that we had no other option, but to collect our pride, and carry on.

And on the eleventh year, God said “No more!”

& the Earth opened and swallowed a Princess.

Shocked & dazed, we all came together,

to water her grave until exhaustion.

And He again left me, with no other option.

And without Marissa, I must carry on.

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Inauguration Day 2017

i am a social work intern at an elementary school in South Central, Los Angeles. since beginning my internship, at least 7 children have expressed fears that either themselves or people they love will be deported.
its a daunting task to explain to them that the president does not have absolute power. that the US works on a system of checks & balances.
but it’s even more daunting when i realize that i myself am fearful. i feel like there is an impending radical change that will completely fracture my life. the uncertainty is so suffocating.

i feel like we will experience the ripples of this campaign not now, but in 20 years time. when already privileged children, who were raised during a presidency that legitimizes their privilege, become adults. and when our black & brown children grow up to fear them.

what message is this presidency sending our kids? as adults we can rationalize, compartmentalize, and understand that this is just a buncha bullshit. that if we practice resiliency, we can get past the racist rhetoric and protect our communities. but what about the children? how do they process this?

so many prayers needed today. fuck u donald trump. i really wish for an extremely hard presidency for u. i wish that all the true social justice warriors in our government bring u unease and make sure that your extremely racist, classist, bigoted political dreams never become a reality. i hope your sleep gets disrupted, like the sleep of the 5 year old black child i counseled who thought he couldnt see me anymore because i had lighter skin than him. i hope the leaders of the world make you insecure and u realize u are incompetent for this role. most of all i hope one day u come to understand that u are a despicable vessel for hatred and God places love & light in your heart and u finally change your ways.


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stop loving broken people 

i’m not sure why i always fell in love with
people who were only pieces

pieces of what they once were

maybe all i see is potential

maybe i cannot accept that

people could give up on themselves and not fight to be whole again

so i think i fell in love with who they were

and i thought

if i loved them hard enough

they would become whole again

i never seemed to learn

that you can’t full-love a half-person

to be able to receive pure love

one must be 

so full inside

and so plenty

that they understand the gift they are receiving

stop loving broken people

they will take and take and take

and walk away with your soul in their pockets.

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One day I am a scholar

And the next I am a disgrace

Sometimes I sit quietly

And other times I burn

You would wonder is this the same woman

I am layers of trauma

And lifetimes of pain

I am every joyful moment you have experienced

I am the first time your toes touched the shore

You will come here curious

And you will leave broken


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the suffering 

when you first left i didn’t drink coffee for one month. i couldn’t imagine feeling more anxious and jittery than i already did. So i cut coffee completely out. maybe a part of me didn’t want to feel awake. maybe a part of me did not want to feel energized. i wanted to stay sleepy and tired and groggy. i cut out coffee but i picked up cigarettes. i could’ve gone through a pack a day.

i didn’t wear make up for 5 weeks. i didn’t see the use in wasting it when i knew it would just come off after i cried. it felt better to have bare eyes because i could rub them as soon as there was a tear. it would make it so that it was less obvious that i had been crying, i hate that runny mascara damsel in distress bullshit.
i cut down on alcohol too. you probably think i didn’t because you still got my text and my calls but that happens because your number is already on the tip of my tongue and on the edge of my fingertips.
in this situation i have no pride. i left my dignity outside. i couldn’t play games, i couldn’t do the “no contact rule”, i couldn’t pick up the pieces and move on like so many of my sisters told me to do. i didn’t care how sharp the edges of our broken mirror were, i wanted to put it back together, i demanded to put it back together.

and you just sat there. immobilized by what you’ve done to me, filled with guilt with the thought that you broke my trust. even now i’m working so hard for both of us and you just sit there. my back is starting to break from carrying the weight of us both. my knees are starting to buckle because it honestly just feels like too much. i don’t want to throw in the towel but i also don’t think i can move on. and if you don’t throw me a line soon then this is just going to fade away.

“the period of waiting patiently for release from suffering is an act of worship” 

-imam ghazali 

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pain on the thanksgiving table

It’s an incredibly eerie feeling to be celebrating a holiday that literally commemorates the genocide of an indigenous peoples. Coming from a refugee family whose current countrymen are systematically threatened in the same way, and especially being of Pashtun descent, a diaspora peoples whose self-determination and agency has literally been strangled by imperial and colonial powers, I can’t help but feel disgusted partaking in this day. simultaneously, I am stung with the remembrance of my privilege; that I should be so lucky to even despair about having an incredible feast on my table; that who am I to consciously object to this event when there are individuals literally starving to death. So I better fucking eat that food and sit down and shut-up and forget why I have this incredibly hypocritical gut wrenching feeling, knowing I am on Tongva land, that the San Fernando Valley has for millennia – NOT been my home, and that my spirit is still somewhere on the Durand Line while my body is lost & confused as a hyphenated child. This is the rage of being an American, of knowing your life is owed to the natives and blacks murdered to give us space. How can I eat this food in joy, while my ancestral brethren are being slaughtered across the sea, and while the real Americans are being murdered at Standing Rock? All while a misogynistic, racist despot in now the leader of this “free world” and his words are the validation for thousands of lost white youth to violate the bodies of black and brown people just like me? I can’t help but feel paralyzed over the millions of lives I will never live, over the trail of tears, I’ll never see. What a debilitating pain.

From Pakhtunkhwa, to Palestine, to Standing Rock, we are one. Our struggles are interconnected. Our enemy is the same oppressor. I beg you, wake up. Wake up and contribute to the cause. For safe water, for self-determination, for the right to live and breathe with dignity.


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most people do not want to become shells

or shadows

but what if you wanted to purge yourself of who you once were?

if you couldn’t stand the empty eyes staring back at you?

what if you could never solve your own problems, so you extended your hand out for everyone else?

then being a shell wouldn’t be such a bad thing

if i could empty out my rib cage

create a cavity for everyones sorrow

because mine; i couldn’t just unpack

then i could be a shell

for everyone to visit

to place close to their ear

to see if they could hear the ocean

when they wished they could empty their hearts out too.

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