An admiration of love and a manifestation of freedom…

This poem sends a message to not hide and to not fear loving or being who you are.

What could go wrong when watching Pink Panther?

“This love I have for you is a pure one that I often struggle to express; with you, I struggle to be vulnerable, to dare greatly, and to trust that what I have to give is enough. It’s the pureness of a Mother’s love coded into my soul from the Divine Himself.”

I hate birthdays. Or to be more precise, I hate the feeling birthdays give me. Most especially, I hate my own birthday.

A daughter of immigrants’ changing view on what it means to care for self, especially during times of uncertainty…

Logic cannot heal you like love can…

This poem delves into the insecurities that people face when they imagine what their metaphorical “box” may have inside.

Things I could do with my time: Cook nshima and kapenta. Cook visashi. Crotchet products from chitenge. Knit products from chitenge. Speak to my parents about a history they had long left behind and refuse to revisit. Speak to my father about his life in Egypt. Speak to my mother about her life before my father. Speak to myself. Things I do instead: Have an existential crisis, several crises.

“I wonder if being in a romantic relationship is the unquestioned prerequisite to being accepted-then-respected in most societies. It's almost to say that if you're "with" someone, you must somehow be lovable, or at least likable.”

Though I am a mother, I am an individual who believes that motherhood should not strip away your identity; it also should not stop your internal and external growth, success, and fun.

“Closing her eyes and beginning to run her right fingers through the strings playing the tune of her soul, she softened.”