By: Anwar

First, let’s just acknowledge the fact that 1 year ago today, Esraa and I started this blog. HAPPY ONE YEAR!

This brings me to my point today:

Just take a second to live life in the present. We live in such times that force us to focus on things that our societal pressures trick us into thinking are important. As our nature is to dwell on the past or to plan and plan for the future, we forget about the moments that we live in, THE NOW. It’s been a while since I posted. Not to state the obvious, but I’m disappointed in myself. I come up with ideas to write about on the spot and often think, “I’ll save that thought for later.” Question is, WHY!? I was recently reminded by a friend (I bet you can guess which one) to even simply write about the “blue sky!” And why not? As we live in these moments, we’re too busy trying to capture the perfect shot for social media rather than enjoy, and I mean physically enjoy the moment. Within the last several months, I’ve certainly been tested, and as much as I try and plan and set a path for myself, I am constantly reminded that God is the greatest of all planners. Whether it’s planning out my hour, day, week, month, or year, understand that what comes your way is meant for you. It may mean sacrifice, but know that it’s what God has written for you, so you must trust this path. I write this at a time where the future is un-telling for me. I know where I want to go, what I want to do, and what I want to control, but truth is, it all falls into His hands. Point blank. I think we’ve all been there. At the end of the day, we decide how to spend our time. Therefore, invest it in the moments with your loved ones, family, and friends. Take a few moments to really understand what is important. As we enter these last 10 blessed days of the holiest month of the Islamic year, think of those that were with us at this time last year, and have departed this earth since then. I mean, LIFE FLIES BY. We are often tested, and as you look upon the situations of others and think, “boy that could never happen to me”, you could very well be the one playing in that role next. I reflect upon the beautiful soul of Brother Ali Banat, who recently departed this world to meet his creator. Although he was across the world in Australia, I yearned to meet him one day. As a man who was told he had just a short few months to live, Ali lived a solid 3 years after his diagnosis. Really a blessing for us all so we are able to reflect and carry out what he has established. One of the wealthiest beings I know of, who called his illness of cancer a gift because it made him realize that life isn’t about material or flaunting your wealth, it’s about what legacy you leave behind and what you do in this life that will pave your way in the next. Generously giving away all of his prized possessions from luxurious cars and clothing, and jewelry and accessories, Ali used his wealth to build villages comprising of hospitals, orphanages, and mosques in third world countries, places we don’t think twice about, while battling his cancer. In and out of the hospital, injecting himself with morphine in order to fly to Africa to put a smile on peoples faces. Look at the legacy he left behind. I reflect upon this because Ali would often remind us of the beauties of what paths we lay out for ourselves. For the last 3 years, I would pray that Allah (God), keep Ali alive so he can continue to set an example for generations to come. Leaving us at such a young age, Ali has still opened visionary doors to the world in order for us understand what’s important in life. Ali did ALL OF THIS, and still he shares that he wishes he could have or should have done more. What can I say? I don’t have millions to give away, but I am grateful for my good health, and in every breathe I have an opportunity to praise the Lord. I don’t do it enough. Therefore, be grateful for your experiences, your health, the people in your life, and the course of life that God has blessed and placed you on. He for one, paves the way. We just have to be prepared to make it our own, and establish it. Life is short, and it flashes by in an instant. Don’t be afraid to stop and smell the roses, as they say, or take a moment to capture God’s creation, even if it’s just the blue skies, for you never know when you can be chosen.

Peace and Blessings my friends. I know it’s been A WHILE, but pray for more consistency. Writing is a lost art of expression. Don’t be afraid to take advantage of such a simple blessing.

If you’d like to donate to Ali Banat’s ongoing foundation please visit https://matwproject.org 🙂

I know, it’s been ages your probably wondering if this blog was even still a thing. I’ve been hit with a severe case of writer’s block, but it’s not the fact that I have nothing to write, quite the contrary there is too much to be said. However, like everything else in my life these days I’m over thinking it. I’m trying to figure out how I want to get this message across once and for all. I held on to this specific blog topic for a long time because I wanted to reach a particular milestone in my ever-going journey of life.

Those that have seen me in person have witnessed the physical growth and change I have made over the course of this time. I’ve lost a lot of weight, a whole ton of it. The size of another human being even. I’m aware. You don’t need to tell me every time you see me. I, after all, am the one that lost the weight, right?

I’ll try to keep my sass to a minimum but can’t make promises.

Anyway, So, I’m continually being asked How did you do it Esraa? What did you take? Have you done Bypass? What’s the magic pill? Tell me your secret?

So, you want to know my secret? Do you want to know how I did it? What did I take? Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m in a good mood, its May 3rd and the flowers are blooming, and birds are chirping. I’m finally ready to share it with you all. Be prepared to have your world shaken. I’m serious like socks knocked off. Mind Effing blown. Perk those ears if your listening and sharpen those eyes if your reading.

Ok, ok, you’re thinking just say it already Esraa we cant handle this suspense no more!

Wait. I need a drumroll; this secret is like too insane to not have one.

Here it is, plain and simple, bright as the blue sky we see every day. The answer to all your questions. My secret. Damn, I’m not sure if you guys are ready for this yet. I’m scared to rock your world beyond repair with this groundbreaking discovery.

…………………

My secret:

Working out and Eating clean.

…………………

That’s it; the secret is out. Pick that jaw up off the ground I told you I would leave you shocked. My secret is getting my ass up every day and hitting the gym at 5 am while yall snooze away. My secret was making sure that every little thing I put in my body was of propose to nutrify and sustain my bodies health. My secret was a two-year journey of hard work and dedication. My secret was that I understood that if I wanted permanent change, I needed to put in the hard work. No magic pill, no overnight miracles, no more yoyo effects or fad diets. My secret is one that is if indeed accept as the ONLY way to get that lasting result it will change your life. It’s not one for you to undermine, with your question that is not genuine but rather hurtful and degrading of the hard work many of you have witnessed. Yet, You still ask like you don’t know my answer.

I didn’t get to where I am now quickly; this is why fire burns within me when someone wants an easy way out. Please excuse me if my answer is short and to the point when you ask me. My answer will always be “Eating right and working out.” When you ask me what I did or what I took seeking a different solution it’s like your taking away all the hard work and effort, the blood, sweat and freaking tears it took me to get where I am today. No effing pills got me here, no bypass surgery, no overnight miracle. Two years it took. Two years today this all began

How’s that for keeping the sass to a minimum?

May 3rd, 2016, I turned 21. It was finals week; I was graduating with my bachelors in three years Caum Laude in just one week. I should be proud right. I should be looking at this woman in the mirror and smiling. Why was I standing here filled with anger, sadness, hate? All this was directed at no one but myself. Who was this woman? How did she let her self-get so lost? The self-image portrayed before was not one to make me proud. That morning I woke up and stepped on the scale and saw a number that will forever be etched into my memory. 254 pounds. Happy Birthday, Esraa.

I stood in front of that mirror standing on that scale for what felt like hours. I let the years pass before my eyes, seeing everywhere I went wrong. Every time I gave myself less than what I deserved. That morning I promised myself this would be the last time I saw that number. This was the last time I would ever not make myself, number one. That morning I decided that the best gift I could ever give myself was love. To indeed make a change, beyond that number on the scale was to fall in love with this strong, beautiful woman I always was. When I learned to love her, I would then be strong enough to make an eternal change. I needed to stop allowing a self-image to dictate who and what I could be. If I wanted to change it was necessary for it to be not only physical but mental, spiritual reformation. If I wanted to reach my goals of really losing the weight and make a permanent change, then I NEEDED to love me. All these horrible choices I was making, were doing nothing but harming this body that I could never replace with another. A gift was given to me by God that I was tarnishing.

Yes, it would be hard to give up all the foods I “loved.” It would be hard to work out every day while balancing school, work, and home life. All that would be hard, no part of it would be easy. But you know what makes it all worth it? What makes it last? What makes it the best journey of your life? The best gift you can ever give yourself? It’s that hard work, every day, the soreness after a kick-ass workout. It’s that time you said no to that unhealthy eating choice. It’s that extra mile you ran today, the stronger your body is getting, the more reps you did, the heavier weights you lifted. It’s that smile that radiates off your face when you know you could never do anything more beautiful for yourself than to take care of you.

The change was mental before it ever became physical. The difference was that switch in my brain that I CHOSE to turn on. I placed myself out of my comfort. I failed ten times and succeeded twelve. There was a time in this journey where I reached 180 pounds only to three months later go back up to 205. Times I wanted to give up, and say screw it this is taking too long.

It wasn’t until October of 2017 where it honestly clicked.

I was setting a time frame with an end goal. What happened when I reached the weight I wanted, did this all just end? Was that all this journey was about? I made growth in who I was as a person; I was proud of the woman I was seeing every day, but did I genuinely accomplish what I sought out in May 2016? Was it all really about just a number on the scale? Why did I allow that to stop me from seeing the great woman I always was? Was I so shallow that thinking my outer image was enough to make me love my inner? If I couldn’t love that woman, I was at 254 how could I love the woman I am now? Just because I was skinner that somehow made her better? Was that all I was seeking in this journey?

What happened when the goal was met? Did all this end?

I hit a major block in October; I had gained a lot of the weight I had lost. I was tired and sick of this constant work. I wanted just to reach that goal and be done already. That was my issue, while I had learned to love me more and give time for me, I had also limited my ability within a boxed goal that I kept trying and trying and trying to reach. I was stressing myself out; I was no longer enjoying this. It felt like punishment. Why was I putting myself through this?

I sat that night and asked myself again what happened when I reached that goal? Did it all end? Did my journey and story stop there? Another number on the scale? Was that what all my hard work and life revolved around?

No. I was blinding myself to with how much more came out of this beyond that. It’s like my trainer called them NON-SCALE VICTORIES. I was far beyond a number on the scale. My growth as person didn’t stop at just how my physical being was forming. I had come far enough to be able to be honest with myself truly. I had become mentally strong enough to confront my weaknesses and acknowledge my strengths. I grabbed a pen and paper and started writing all the accomplishments I had made that year. To name just a few, I was honestly and genuinely smiling more. I had stronger connections with my family; I established stronger bonds of friendship. I was taking care of my body by giving it the best of nutrition. I had so much energy in my day. I was making my heart stronger by working it out. I was a force to be reckoned with I was a more confident, brighter stronger and a happier woman. This journey was never made to end. This Journey was a lifelong commitment to self-love.

I decided to remove all the stress from it. I wasn’t going to count calories or force myself to work out. The truth was I loved eating healthy; I loved the feeling of soreness in my body after a killer workout. This was a part of me. It wasn’t about a goal I wanted to reach anymore. It was beyond that number on the scale. It was beyond an image in the mirror. It was an inner need and drive. No more stressing, no more boxes, no more limited goals. I lit that match, and I hit the floor running. The change I witnessed in myself since October, is freaking amazing if I say so myself.

I share this struggle and growth with you all because it was never easy. However, I wouldn’t change a single thing in it. Not the failures because I grew from them. Not the tears because I learned to find a smile through them. Not the falls because I learned to get up twice as strong. Every part of this was vital in overcoming my self-made limitations.

It’s May 3rd, 2018; im 23. I’m stepping on that scale and its reading 142 pounds. Two years later, 112 pounds lighter the journey is only just beginning. Happy Birthday, Esraa. The Gift I said I would give myself was ordered in 2016, received in 2017 unwrapped in 2018 and will have to be opened in 2019 because I’m not yet done gifting myself.

The person in front of me, yea she’s a lot skinnier, but you know what; the one who stood 2016 in front of that mirror was great. I wish I had appreciated her more; I used to be embarrassed by her. But like hell, she wasn’t anything less to be proud of. She just needed to unleash the power she had within her to be even greater than she already was.

I no longer want to live in darkness, I chose the light. I no longer want the negative vibes, I chose positivity. I no longer see just the bad, I chose to find the good. I know my worth. l know what I deserve, and I will never settle for anything less. I will never demand respect from anyone but myself, self-respect is all you ever need. No obstacle is too hard, no distance is too far when your mind is locked and set baby.

I have yet to reach my full potential; we only continue to go up from here. This has opened the door to so many new beginnings, things I never thought I could ever be or do. As I continue my path, I have decided to get my personal training and nutrition certification. The ability to help another person unlock their hidden key, the ability to give back is the change I want to be. I’m not opposed to people asking me how but be prepared to get this answer. Ask me sincerely how to reach your goals, and I will be nothing but I great mentor for you. I will take the time to help you and guide you; it is something I am very passionate about. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for the life-changing people I met along the way, but the most life-changing person you need to introduce yourself too is staring at you in the mirror. Say Hello. It starts there.

While we are sharing secrets here, let me tell you a few of the ugly truths that come along with getting healthier. Take your vitamins religiously, or you will lose your hair, I learned this the hard way. Chopped off all my hair in hopes of growing it stronger. I’ll let you know how that goes. Ladies, say goodbye to your girls they are the first thing to go, from a D to a B. However, I’ll take a healthy, fit body over big boobs any day and like someone keeps telling me ” Do squats Esraa” and it will you compensate the missing asset ;). If your drinking your gallon of water a day, get ready to make the bathroom your second home. Over time your appetite will be completely curved, legit your body will start to get sick when you eat something unhealthily. LISTEN TO IT! Probiotics, probiotics. Probiotics.

I said in the beginning that those who saw me saw the physical change I made, however those who know me have seen the all-encompassing change I have made as an overall person. Look beyond the shallowness of a physical image. I’m still that same Esraa at 2016 that I am now, just more accepting of who I am. Esraa 3.0 like someone recently told me. None the less, still Esraa.

Esra

I don’t think I have complained about grad school before in one of my blogs, or maybe I have. Anyway, I hate it, its eating away my soul. Amidst all the insanity going on in my life I find peace in my written word. I’ve written and rewritten this blog a total of four times. This one is about the closure. Every time I wrote it a part of me let go, it seemed so petty to hold on to something that in reality probably wasn’t even worth the energy. Thus, the fifth go around I decided to write it from a different perspective of finding the blessings within the atrocity.

This piece is a sequence to my previous blog “Mirror Mirror” an in-depth part of how this new outlook on my life developed. The wakeup calls in a sense.

I can sit here and tell you about how much shit went on in my life, but who cares? We all have our issues. What makes me different than the next person?

It’s these downfalls and hardships that build us! We have the choice in allowing it to eat us alive and pull us down, or we can choose to overthrow and rise above. Six years of a complete blur came to an end when I finally just had enough. The moment I was sincere with myself was when I admitted my weaknesses and faults. When I finally looked at the coldness in my heart. The moment I was finally ready to stop making excuses for everything, the moment to be selfish and say you know what screw the world its time you face your inner demons. I could no longer hide behind the image of “Bent el-Sheikh.” I no longer wanted the responsibility of MSA president. I no longer wanted to pretend I was pursuing a career path I hated. Done. All that needed to end, but where to start?

I can tell you about all the garbage that went on with being MSA president. The amount of my life I gave up. The lies that spread, my character wrongfully accused. The friendship I lost. However, as I wrote and rewrote I faced the reality that this was a choice I made, I placed myself here. Who the hell was I complaining too? That little part of me that wanted to be angry and write it all just no longer cared. The moment I left MSA, my life began. I no longer care what happened before, all those events only lead me to where I am now. Just another chapter in the book. The page has turned.

I’m overall proud of the work done in MSA, and to have been a part of that is forever honorable. MSA Alumni and proud. This experience, however, was one I reflected upon for two years, I grew from it and discovered my weaknesses as a leader and acknowledged my strengths.

So, the blessing amidst the atrocity? Honestly way too many to even count! I can’t even truly focus on the bad when I start to think of how much good came from this. It was the first time I remember just not caring anymore about the consequences my actions had on others. It was a selfish, driven move and I loved it. It was about damn time. With MSA behind me, I had my last semester of college to get through, and I wanted out of Cleveland. I welcomed the move to Pittsburgh; I distanced myself from everyone wanting for once to just figure out what I was doing, and where my future was heading. I was on a momentum of self-driven moves, ready to talk to my parents and just be free of all that I hid behind. I wanted to leave all these titles; I couldn’t expect people to see Esraa as just Esraa when she didn’t even know which identity she held! I had to strip myself of it all. I saw things so differently when I just threw that all behind me. I didn’t want to act a certain way anymore or constrain my identity. No one was physically placing this on me it was all mental.

The first blessing in this was all the new connections I made, staying away from the same circle of people I had interacted with for years allowed me to get to know people I rarely ever spoke to. People that have touched my life and heart in such simple, beautiful ways, while the connection was fleeting it was substantial in my journey.

A betrayal from someone I once called a good friend led me to shut down, be angry, and hurt, however now it allowed me to appreciate and value those in my life who have stuck through the bad and ugly. It took me a long time to let go of that hurt I felt, it was such a big turning point in my life, but I couldn’t allow something to have this much control over me. I hated the feeling in my heart; I wanted to let go, I tried to move on, it wasn’t worth all these emotions I felt. I spoke to many about this, wanting to hear that one answer that would let me move on, but I was never reaching closure. It kept creeping into my heart, till eventually, I asked my father. “How can I let go of this anger I feel towards someone I once loved? How can I forgive a hurt that left such an impact?” He looked at me and said “Esraa, have you ever done something in your life that you want God to forgive. If Allah can forgive us with no regard how can we humans not forgive one another when we fault. Forgiving doesn’t mean you need to welcome this person back In your life. Its the ability to let go and forgive so, in turn, Allah forgives you.” He told me about the story of Wahshee the then slave who killed Hamza the Uncle of the Prophet Mohamed PBUH, who later entered Islam, and the prophet forgave him for the killing of his uncle. However, the prophet was human, and he didn’t want the reminder every time he saw Wahshee, so he asked him to leave the city and live elsewhere. This precisely was the issue! I tried to forgive, and I had, but I kept thinking that for me to truly forgive and move on I had to get back to a place with this person like I was before! The reason was why I was having difficulty letting go of my anger was because I didn’t want them in my life anymore. With the story of Wahshee, I learned that I could forgive and move on without welcoming that back in my life. At that moment, it all seemed too natural, like I needed just to hear that, and I let go. The burden of this in my heart melted away. I feel like every time I overcame something a part of me was freed, and it’s hella refreshing.

While this was difficult for a long time, it broke my sense of trust and caused me to push away people I cared about, eventually it made me see the blessings of the friends that have become family. It was something I took for granted; I didn’t appreciate them until that distance between us was vast and they were no longer just there. Being in Pittsburgh gave me time to evaluate the last couple years in my life, and I slowly started to reconnect with people that I had unjustly turned away and neglected in my path to self-discovery.

The most critical blessing in turning away from MSA, the titles, and the positions was the discovery of my voice. The ability to stand up for my choices, to finally and honestly vocalize what I wanted to do and be. The power to finally say no, to choose me over something else. That one choice to stop hiding behind responsibilities that weren’t beneficial to me freed me to all the greatness awaiting. The main issue was that I lacked self-worth, self-love, and self-respect because I didn’t like the person I was becoming. But what was I doing about it? It was time to face my demons; it was time to admit my weaknesses, it was time to use my strengths to my advantage. It was time Esraa gave time for her, cared for her, loved her, and it was time to place all that energy I exhausted on other things in me. Who are we lying to when we continue down a path of self-destruction? Who are we harming?

While this year of my undergrad was challenging, I went through so many trails, but I was able to overcome that darkness, and now I see it all as blessings. For so long I wanted to focus on the bad that happened I was overlooking all the good. I am who I am today mainly because of that year. I learned self-love, appreciation for people that matter, the value of time, and respect for my health and well-being. I learned that it was ok to be different, that I didn’t have to be defined by a title. I discovered that real beauty was in the blessings we overlooked. That sometimes darkness can be light. That with all difficulty is ease. That Forgiveness is a gift we all wish to receive. To live on this earth as a person who is humble in character, loving in nature, and respectful in manner. It wasn’t about how much you do, the titles you earned, or the honors that are given. It wasn’t all about all the people you know, or the connections made. It was all about that moment when for the first time I looked at all that had passed; the good bad and ugly and smiled, knowing that all that difficulty somehow has led to this inner peace and happiness I feel within my soul. So this.. this is closure. That dark chapter in my life is no longer that, I’ve decided to turn on the light and keep it glowing baby. In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore “Happiness can be found in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

By: Esraa

Y’all! It’s Freaking 2018. Why the heck is time flying like it’s on fire. Someone put this out!
It’s in moments like this where I think back to the past couple years in my life and reflect on how much I’ve changed, and all the challenges I have overcome. Man, I freaking grew up. These past three years have been the worst and the best of times of my life, but I can’t regret a single second of them. How can I? I finally look in that mirror, and I’m proud of the women reflected. There is a light that radiates in the eyes that were once so dull and sad. A smile that fills her face (literally it’s too big) that reflects that true happiness within, no longer a façade. This woman no longer cares to fill the norm society placed upon her she has found peace with who she is. I look at her, and I see hope, determination, a feisty attitude, and the will to overcome all of life’s obstacles.

This blog is probably one of the hardest I have written, and it’s taken me about three months to feel like I’m entirely able to express my thoughts in a matter that’s true to me but also beneficial to others. Its broken down into a few posts that will follow one another. If you have been reading this long, you know that I don’t hold back in my writing and opinions and I’m going to say it how it is. There is no intention to offend or hurt anyone but just the raw, honest reality of what my last three years have been. There is real hope in being able to come out of that dark hole that can entirely overtake you and into the lighten city of life. The hard reality is that truly and honestly, it’s all mental. The key is overcoming yourself, your limitation, and that little effing voice telling you-you’re not enough. It’s the will to stop allowing the people around you shape you into someone you don’t know or want to be. When the moment comes where everyone is telling you who or what to be, and you’re standing there like who the heck am I, what the hell do I even want? Stop! Press the damn breaks, get out of the car and just, stop.
These are the feelings I had in my last year of undergrad, overwhelmed, angry, depressed, lost. You wouldn’t know it if you saw me as I walked through campus making small talk, as I taught religious classes, hung out with my friends, laughing and joking. However, to me, this woman, was slowly dying. Balancing 21 credits as you ran a student organization and working isn’t any piece of cake, I burned out. President of the Muslim Student organization I had obligations to this group I had to upkeep, but how much do you owe something that was only bringing you misery? I gave up so much of my time to something just in the end to get unrightfully accused of cheating, dictatorship, and inequality in treatment. Was it worth the friend I lost in the process? I sacrificed sleep, my school, my family, my friends. I don’t blame anyone but myself because I chose to do this. That same way I decided to put myself in this position I was going to take myself out. Resigning from MSA was the start of retaking control of my life. I needed a break, quiet, and peace to fight this inner battle going on within my mind. I was walking through this life on autopilot; I had no idea who I was any more or where I wanted to go. I woke up every morning not even knowing when the day started or ended. Everyone was giving me a title that wasn’t me. Everyone wanted something from me I couldn’t do. The issue was I didn’t know that I wanted, or more accurately I was afraid to admit it.
As graduation neared the stress to apply for Grad school was building. I had committed to pursuing Physical Therapy, but within me, I knew I couldn’t. The balance to make my parents proud and figuring out what would make me happy was taking its toll. How do you tell your parents you aren’t going to do what you talked about for three years? How do you tell them that you don’t know what or where you’re going but that you need a break? How do I face my parents who all I want is to make proud and tell them all their dreams for me weren’t going to happen? The pride that filled their voice when they spoke to others about what I was studying. I was going to take that away. The promises I made, I was going to break that. But I wasn’t happy, isn’t that all parents want? If I went down this road and pursued my masters in PT, I knew that I would continue to lose myself and in the end, I would stand with a degree, and I still wouldn’t be proud of the women reflected. Countless nights I went sleepless as I pushed through my exams, thinking and pondering what to do. I retracted from all my friends my social health taking a hit, my mental well-being fried, and my physical being beyond a mess. Was this all worth it so that I can do what others want of me? No. It was time to Stop. It was time to figure out “What does Esraa want?”.
I remember the many I got into my car and drove the 2 hours from Cleveland to Pittsburgh talking to myself the whole way on how to approach my parents about taking a gap year. Six times I made this drive backing out every single darn time. Every time I went, my mom would ask me about my application, and I would feel guilty and deter. Every time my dad would call me Dr. and I would cringe. I had to bite the bullet; they would love me no matter what, right? All they want is my happiness at the end. I finally drew the nerve on my sixth drive down. This talk was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but it shaped the next two years of my life. It was the first honest and real conversation I ever had with my parents. I established my tone and position. I wasn’t asking, I was telling. I respect and love my parents, but at the end of the day, it was my spiritual, mental and physical health that was getting ruined. It was my sanity and future that I would have to face and overcome. The resistance was prominent as voices raised, tears shed, and reality was finally accepted. Five grueling hours later we reached a compromise, one year off, work on myself, gain experience in my field, reapply the following year. Only the first two parts of this plan I agreed with, I had no intentions of going back into this program. The small battle within me was forming, my heart telling me to be honest, my mind telling me to take the deal, and you will figure it out as you go. This dishonesty with myself and parents would soon come to bite me hard.
Graduation came, bags were packed goodbyes were said, and I moved to Pittsburgh PA with my parents. In my head, I had this unrealistic reality of jumping right into my spiritual and health journey it would all be amazing no work or school. The fact was entirely different. It took me some time to adjust to the new life I was living. I lived a whole year alone, on my time and schedule. I had never lived alone with my parents, to have all their attention was overwhelming. I decided to go to California for a month with my cousins, get away from it all, put myself out of my comfort and start my journey. This decision was the start of it all and what lead me to where I am today, a happier and healthier person. With the help of my cousin, I learned the tools to help me succeed, I came back joined a gym near our home and began taking care of Esraa. I stopped teaching Islamic courses at the masjid and became a student. I pushed people away, as I tried to figure out where I belonged and who I was. I traveled, visiting my siblings and built lasting bonds.
This year off wasn’t easy by any means, tested in so many ways I nearly almost gave up, but the inner warrior would tell me to get up again. Try one more time. Every day I got stronger. The year off was nearing an end the pressures were coming back. Did you apply to grad school? Are you going to trick us again? Will you be breaking your promise, still? My mother’s questions were like a knife stabbing away at my heart. I discovered that I couldn’t overcome who was in this year because a big mountain was on my shoulders with the dishonesty I was carrying in my heart. I didn’t want to do PT school; I didn’t want to go grad school at all. The feelings I had in undergrad were not pleasing and encouraging, why put myself through that again. Was I ready to disappoint my parents again?
I am the kind of person who guilt eats them alive, this year off was great I overcame a lot, but I still didn’t like this woman reflected. She wasn’t honest. Held back from the guilt I was feeling; I was scared to disappoint and break their hearts again. Why was I feeling guilty to pursue something I knew wasn’t right for me? Why was I always feeling undeserving, and inadequate? I knew they would never accept me saying that wouldn’t do masters at all, so I had to figure out exactly what was it that I enjoyed and wanted to do. Day in and day out I sat searching and comparing, praying and seeking. PowerPoint in hand I presented to my parents my plan, online masters in healthcare administration. I would remain in Pittsburgh have the freedom and time to pursue my travels, workout, get a job and gain experience. I wasn’t doing PT, last and final this was my choice, and I would be the one who had to live by it. It’s never easy to see the disappointment reflected in the eyes of your parents, especially my mother who is my world. I had to harden my heart, and take this step that I believed would finally free me from the guilt I felt. To finally tell it how it was released me, it was like the breath your holding onto finally freaking let go. It’s like the weight your holding finally drops. I was free. I never thought how much this was holding me back, but damn was I shackled.

I don’t encourage going against your parent’s wishes that’s not my message here at all. This moment was a time in life where I had to think of me and the choices that would make me happy. I had to ask myself, Can I live the rest of my life with these decisions? Were these choices truly mine? My every aspiration is to honor and respect my parents and to make them proud of the women they raised. Wouldn’t I do that more when I was healthy and happier with my choices? Wouldn’t I make them proud after I was proud of me? How can you make someone else happy when you’re miserable?
If I wanted them to treat me like an adult I had to act like one, I planned and thought out every moment. None of this happened in a rash. For months, I spoke with close and trusted friends, sharing my struggles getting their thoughts and advice. Countless nights went sleepless as I prayed for God to guide me towards what is best for my earthly and heavenly life.
This piece is long enough, and there is so much more to this journey that I have taken and hoped to share with you all. This blog is part one of my journey the pieces to follow will hit more in-depth specific topics. Today I share with you all the hardest part of it all, being honest with yourself, and in turn, honest with others. I was a shell of the women I am now. Whenever someone would try to tell me how good I was, I just wanted to laugh hysterically because I felt like an utter hypocrite. I would sit and give an Islamic lecture, and my heart was dead. I would smile in your face, and within me I was sad, I could listen to you talk and not hear a word. Was this person someone I wanted to be? Would I always keep putting others first and forgetting that I owed myself the same chance? Was anyone going to be there for me when I know found myself lost? Here I was lost, and no one even noticed, no one asked, no one truly cared. It wasn’t their fault, I learned I was one hell of an actor. Oscar award, please. As long as the smile was there, as long as Esraa was always doing doing doing, she was alright. I would look at pictures of myself and see the dull sadness in my eyes. I would hang out with my friends and wanna crawl out of my skin. Who was this woman, what was she doing?!
That long look in the mirror I had in 2015 lead me to this long look I am having right now. The difference is mountains apart. This Women she is no longer lost. She found herself and is on the road to inner happiness and content. I’m at a point where I am proud of the women I am. I am happy with my choices I have made; I wouldn’t take a single thing back. I look at my parents, and my connection with them is one to envy (Masha Allah Walhamdullah). I finally feel that I am deserving of good to come, Insha Allah. I now know that I will raise their heads and always make them proud. That right there is worth every struggle and hardship I have and will ever go through.

By: Anwar M.

You know, although as a Muslim I don’t celebrate Christmas, I absolutely adore this time of year. Walking into stores as festive decorations fill the vision of your eyes, with the sound of holiday music gloriously blaring throughout the malls, in addition to shopping for presents for your non-Muslim friends. One cannot also forget the beautiful scene of snow falling as each snowflake differs in shape and size, and the smell of the wood burning in the fireplace inside. All I wish is to sit near a fire, sipping on hot chocolate, munching on the sweetness of Christmas cookies; I mean, you can’t help but enjoy this time of year.

As a Muslim-American, we hope that others are vigilant of our holiday, Eid, and the holy month of Ramadan, but I also firmly believe that as Muslims, it’s important to be vigilant of non-muslim holidays if we expect the same in return.

We have many similarities with the Christian faith, as many may not realize the importance of the Prophet Jesus (peace be upon him) and the Virgin Mary (May God be pleased with her) in the religion of Islam. The Abrahamic faiths have more in common than we may realize, although our society allows us to look at differences rather than what we share alike.

The Virgin Mary’s story as she welcomed baby Jesus is stated clearly in the Quran, as Allah (glory be to Him) mentions in Chapter 19 verses 16-33:

“And mention in the Book (the story of) Mary, when she withdrew from her family to an eastern place.  And she placed a screen to seclude herself from them.  Then We sent to her Our angel (Gabriel), and he took the form of a well-created man before her.  She said, “Indeed I seek refuge with the Most Merciful from you, if you do fear God.” (The angel) said, ‘I am only the messenger of your Lord to give to you (the news of) a pure boy.’  She said, ‘How can I have a son, when no man has touched me (in marriage), and I am not a prostitute?’  He said, So your Lord said, ‘It is easy for Me.  And We will make him a sign to people and a mercy from Us.  And it is a matter (already) decided.’” (Quran 19:16-21)

“So she conceived him, and she withdrew with him to a remote place.  And the pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm tree.  She said, ‘I wish I had died before this, and had been long forgotten.  [Mary was worried that people would think badly of her as she was not married.]  Then (baby Jesus) called her from below her, saying, ‘Don’t be sad.  Your Lord has provided a stream under you.’  Shake the trunk of the palm tree towards you, and it will drop on you fresh ripe dates.  So eat and drink and be happy.  And if you see any human, then say, ‘Indeed I have vowed a fast to the Most Merciful so I will not speak to any human today.’  Then she carried him and brought him to her people.  They said, ‘O Mary, indeed you have done a great evil.’  ‘O sister of Aaron, your father was not an evil man, and your mother was not a fornicator.’  So she pointed to him.  They said, ‘How can we speak to a child in the cradle?’  Jesus said, ‘Indeed, I am a slave of God.  He has given me the Scripture and made me a prophet. And He has made me blessed wherever I may be, and He has enjoined on me prayer and charity as long as I remain alive.  And (has made) me kind to my mother, and did not make me arrogant or miserable.  And peace be upon me the day I was born, and the day I will die, and the day I will be raised alive.’” (Quran 19:22-33)

Turn to the setting of a nativity scene for a moment, not only are Jesus and the Virgin Mary prominent figures in both Christianity and Islam, but the Virgin Mary is wearing a veil or hijab, as Muslim women wear as well, serving as an example and role model for women in both faiths.

Aside from mainly religion, culture clearly plays a significant role in being Palestinian at this time of year. For me, I see an extra vigilance in being Muslim, American, and Palestinian, as the Prophet Jesus is commemorated in my homeland especially extra at this time of year. In addition, the streets of Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Ramallah are lined with the bright colors of the Christmas holiday, as Palestinian Christians, Muslims, and Jews come together to form an atmosphere of cross-cultural and religious awareness of one another’s holidays, and await for the Christmas tree lighting in the center of the town.

What a beautiful time of year, as it brings in happiness and cheer, from all across the globe, we see and hear the beautiful sounds of a wonderful holiday for our Christian friends all over the world. Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate, and a Happy and Prosperous New Year to all my friends and family across the world.

Peace and blessings to you all!

Written by: Anwar

Hall of Famer, John Wooden once said, “Don’t let making a living prevent you from making a life.” Recently, and I mean roughly 3 months recent, life, as always, has been a whirlwind (to say the least) except unlike other months since starting this blogging ordeal, school started, basketball is back in full swing, and I’ve finally learned how to commit to my own health and well-being.

Let me tell you something, if you haven’t noticed the obvious, life FLIES by. We find it so hard to catch up with time (even with the extra hour we received a few weeks ago).

Here is my point… a few days ago, when driving home from basketball practice, I happen to glance at my dash board, in which not one, not two, but THREE service lights were lit and glaring in my direction. GREAT! On top of all this craziness of life (and I wouldn’t want it any other way), I now have to figure out why my newly replaced breaks were triggering the BREAK service lights to appear. Not only that, but my GAS service light was glaring at me too. Usually my gas light appears when it’s near the last hash mark of the meter. THIS was DIFFERENT. It appeared and I still had well over 1/4 of a tank of gas left. This can easily take me to downtown and back roughly 2 solid times, no joke. Lastly, my tire pressure light went on! Oh my goodness! What did this mean???? Tires are low on air… 🤷🏽‍♀️ most likely because of the cold weather, but if you’re from Cleveland YOU KNOW that this is not the only cold day of weather we’ve had, but why today? Why did all these service lights decide to shine all at once?

At first, I did what I typically do when anything happens to my car…. nothing 😆. I was so confused, and finally after really thinking it through, my first action was to call my brother, who is my go-to for cars. Although, before acting upon instinct, I literally stopped at the next stop sign (how about that for irony LOL), and thought, “my little Subaru is giving me indirect advice about life.” Why else would my break light flash, my gas light stare me down, and my air pressure tire light glimmer in my direction?

Before we go on, if you don’t know me, sorry because you’re missing out 😝. Just kidding, I’m just feeling a little sassy today… but really if you don’t know me, you don’t know that once fall and winter entertains my daily schedule, I DO NOT STOP and I seriously have no clue about time. This is clearly by choice. I probably take on more than I should or maybe I need to manage my time better. I’m definitely thankful either way because it’s all about life’s learning experiences and the relationships you build along the way. Although, day by day thoughts run through my head like, “I hope I don’t miss my niece or nephew uttering any new words” or ” I hope I don’t miss my nephew take his first crawl”, or “my best friend is in town and I need to find an hour this week to be able to see her”, or even simply thinking about gathering with my family. These are all thoughts that ponder through my mind and I know I can’t be the only one feeling like this. This is daily life for most of us. Most times it’s rough, but that’s just the reason why we must learn to cherish every moment.

This is what brought me to share advice from my Subaru. She’s absolutely right. School matters, work matters, friends matter, and family is always first, but we live in a world where we are taught very young to make sacrifices in order to make a living. Don’t get me wrong. My job makes me happy, and so does basketball, and I love my friends and family, but don’t wait for advice from a car to remind you that you need to slam on the breaks, refuel on the importance of life, and to just breathe for that fresh air we often yearn for. Give yourself time, the time that you earned to keep close ties with those that rely on you, and to create endless memories with those who matter, and to never forget how and where it all started.

Now I’ve always believed that there’s no such thing as coincidence, so here is what I gathered in short:

Slooooow down, take a BREAK because you’re running out of GAS. Lastly, if you feel like you’re running out of AIR due to life’s PRESSURES, just take it easy, and breathe. Like me, if you’re feeling overwhelmed with life, I recommend taking the advice of my car.

Ladies and gentleman, no matter how crazy life gets, make time to stop and refuel. Make time for yourself, your family, and the people in life that matter. We often hear that LIFE is TOO short, but those four words could not be more true. Therefore I remind you once again of basketball great, John Wooden’s wise words, “Don’t let making a living prevent you from making a life.” AND, check up on your cars every once in a while. They need to be maintained too!!!! 🤣

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***Listen to the audio for a real feel of my meaning. ***

By Esra 

I can sit here and give a million and one reasons why it’s been months since you have had the pleasure of glimpsing into my exciting thoughts. The bottom line is life happens, but this strong headed bull doesn’t back down from a commitment made even if it takes me longer then I prefer. It’s so tempting to give up sometimes, life keeps pushing you down, and you just start to feel like what’s the point? How much more can I handle? So many questions and doubts we have every day, but we gotta keep pushing, gotta keep coming back. 
This blog is a little different than my norm. A glimpse into my spiritual mind and troubles of the heart. An overview of the struggles we all face, questions we all have, with only one way to turn. 

Ever wake up one day and just think what the heck am I even doing? Life is on repeat, and this dream of happiness becomes nothing but that; a dream. You feel like you have nowhere to turn, alone in a world full of people, the darkness overtaking and you can’t seem to find the light. It’s like you have one good day and then ten bad follow. Hope is lost as we unsuccessfully try to attain the earthly pleasures in a temporary world where everything at a single command; destructed. You start to think, no one knows or hears your desperate calls. But HE does. He hears the Call. 
“And if my servant asks you about me then I am near, I HEAR THE CALL of the caller when he calls upon me.”

This verse plays a constant reminder in moments where that little slither of doubt creeps into my heart. The many times I ask myself is he even listening? Here I am sitting, calling on him day in and day out; HE tells me he hears and answers but I’m not seeing. I’m narrow-minded in my clouded need, focused on the one thing I’m seeking… blind to the blessings seeping. I sit up at night, and I think of all the things missing, all the things I want to make me “happy,” finally. I’m forgetting the roof over my head, my beautiful parents sleeping next door and the warm blankets surrounding me. None of that matters or even crosses my mind as I cry over a broken heart from a fairytale love ungranted. Or as I sit and complain about the new job I wasn’t appointed. God doesn’t want good for me, Everything that makes me happy, taken! I prayed for this, and he ain’t even answering… He tells me “I say be and it shall” So why is it when I’m calling, it’s not happening? What am I doing wrong? Does God even love me? Is he even listening…
It’s that constant mantra in our minds. We want everything now, at a touch of a finger the world is at your command. Were spoiled rotten, we no longer even know what real happiness is in a world so shallow fast-paced and flawed. 
A constant struggle of the mind, a doubting fault in the heart. We are tying our reality of happiness to a fleeting world that soon will end. We, The human, impatient and ungrateful in time of need, prideful and dismissive in moments of success. We return to HIM when things are going wrong, forgetful when everything is going right. Then we have the nerve to be demanding and impatient when last week HE wasn’t even on our mind or sight. 
When you’re raising your hand, and you pray with all your heart because you’re in a desperate moment and nothing seems to be going right. The doubt begins to build in your heart as you come back after so much time apart. You question your self; why does it take a fall for me to turn back? Why does a calamity hit, before I remember your might! 

A hidden beauty and blessing within it all. If tragedy needs to fall for the time stop passing before you knell to HIM, dropping that forehead to the ground, then HE’s saving your life. 
He gives us a simple command to worship and trust. Guaranteeing a reward of the happiness we seek, in a dimension that’s far more pleasing. Maybe that fairytale love wasn’t answered because another one is calling. Open your heart, and you will feel it, an eternal relationship of love between the creator and creation. When that foundation is built maybe then you will find it; that earthly love, that will never replace it. 
Remember the nights and days you stayed up stressing, time went wasted only to miss it. The one opportunity you were always seeking, slipping through your fingers. Everything was going so well, just to diminish. You were on top of the world, untouchable, soon everything is destructed. Where did it go wrong? It cant be all the prayers you pushed aside as you made time for temporary fame, money, and glory. It cant be that you forgot who grants that sustenance. Nah, it was all you. You then want to blame HIM for your low times and failure when you don’t even remember HIM during your high time and success? Well, hello reality check. 
Those internal struggles, aches, and tears that keep you up all night he knows, he hears every single one. Filled with shame and guilt, we struggle to turn back in these times of need, remembering all the days we turned away. Everything was going right, and we strayed, and now when we are weak, we seek. Will he accept? The one whose mercy outweighs his anger, the one who is closer to you than your jugular vein, is waiting. Just call, and he hears, he answers. The answer may not come in the form you wanted or fast enough, but trust that He who created you knows what is best for you. Is it possible that what you deserve is beyond the realm of this world waiting for you in an eternal heaven? 
Every second of hardship or pain felt on this earth is forgiveness on a day where you stand before your Him with no barriers. Every struggle to remain affirmed on His path no matter the obstacles, leads straightway into His garden. Every time you trusted His plan leads you to that moment where you stand before Him, the majestic throne in sight. The call has been heard and answered.

Esraa

Is it just me or has the month of August just been insane? Every day I would tell myself, you have to write your next blog girl, all the masses are so eagerly awaiting on the edge of their seats to read your next life changing story. So here it is, I hope no one fell off their chair in eagerness. 😛

I struggled hard in writing this because I didn’t even know where to start, or if my words can even give 1% of justice to this amazing person in my life; my faithful warrior. She was there from the moment I opened my eyes to this world, holding me and teaching me my path in this life. If it’s hard being the daughter of an Imam at times, man just imagine being the wife. 

My mother’s name is Eman, which means faith in the Arabic language, and she embodies that meaning in every way. She taught me to have strong faith so that when anything went wrong, as long as I remained steadfast on my path, God would never do me wrong. She always told me to say “There is no might or power except in Allah”; these words gave her faith that God with his ultimate sovereignty would take care of her and her family. Her every heartbeat, tear, smile, and struggle was to make sure she raised respectful, honorable children. In moments where I felt down I just look at her beautiful face, all the wrinkles around her eyes to her smiles that light up my world, and the lines on her forehead from the times I made her frown in disappointment. The depth of her soulful eyes that have seen and lived a life many can barely imagine: this woman is a warrior. 
My mother’s father passed away when she was only one years old, and her Mother raised her in a country where male dominance is prominent; she is a reflection of the strong persevering woman who raised her. Being the youngest out of two girls and four boys she quickly took on the household duties while balancing her school and social life. My grandmother, as a woman during those times, could not easily find work and these times were extremely tight for my mother growing up. However, all my mom talks about are how her mother never let her need for anything, she taught them the right from wrong, independence, hard work, and raised them on good ethics and a moral upbringing. When my mother was 22, she married my father and entered a life entirely different from the one she was used to living in. In her home there was no male dominance, she was raised on equality in work and being. 
My father, growing up, had six brother and one sister, and the role to compete on who was the “man” of the house was overbearing at times. In those days the women lived with their in-laws, and they would take over all of the household duties while trying to maintain their own personal married life. My father was always away at work for weeks, and at times, even months; and my mother went from becoming a queen of her home to just another overworked, underappreciated woman. The above is my viewpoint when my mom tells me these stories because I’m a bit of a feminist; However, my mom sees it in a different light. She tells me that even though it was difficult at times, all of this paid off because my father was extremely kindhearted, and giving with his parents and siblings that he was always the favorite. She told me “If you have your mother’s acceptance and love on this earth then you have everything.” Her faith was strong that God would always provide and take care of them. 

Two years into my mother’s marriage she and my father moved to Yemen where they both worked as teachers to make ends meet. It was in the country of Yemen that my five siblings and I were born; I don’t remember anything from this period, so I rely mainly on my parents’ and siblings’ memories. My parents would work tirelessly to provide us with a stable home and food to eat every day, while my father spent half his paycheck back to his parents and siblings. My mother told me there were so many hard times that one would think about giving up, but warriors keep fighting, and that’s just what she did. With four kids and the fifth on the way, she worked hand in hand with my father between the mountains and the parched deserts of Yemen. It was when my brother, Hamza, was six months old that my dad got the opportunity of a lifetime to travel on a worker’s visa to America where teachers were needed. 
I know this is long, and I could write a book, and it wouldn’t be enough, but all this doesn’t even come to a fraction of how phenomenal this woman is. 
Five kids in toe she moved back to Egypt while my father was in America and raised her children while maintaining another household of 6 teenage and adult men. It was one year in when my dad was able to bring us all to America with him, imagine traveling alone with crazy kids and a language barrier? I could barely make it through Rome for 14 hours! We settled into California as our first, but surely not last, home. My memories of California are my favorite; I never felt the struggle my parents went through, because my mother always made sure we had the best of clothes, the same snacks the kids ate at school and, that we had a full and happy childhood. Six years into our new life in America, my parents set cross country from the West coast to the East coast. We saw snow for our first time in the state of Michigan, our new home for the next six years. Working to fit into a new society was a bit of a struggle, at first. For my mother, Flint was a very social and close knit atmosphere which differed from California’s open communities. It was a real change; here we learned the importance of an Islamic community. We attended Islamic school where my mother worked soulfully to pay off the private school tuition of her five children. She was adamant that we had a strong foundation in Arabic, which we learned our Islamic faith and Quran recitation. 
When we moved to Cleveland, Ohio, after another six years, I was 13 at that time. It was a hard move for me, I loved my friends back in Flint, and at that age, I felt like my world had ended. My mother had to work on getting us all situated and again learning to balance a new social atmosphere. It’s hard enough for any person to have to move, but imagine being the wife of an Imam, where the majority of the female body in the community is going to be coming to you for questions and help. The struggle wasn’t in adapting as a family in a new place, it was changing to a whole new community where your family has all eyes on them. It was, when I was 15 years old, two weeks after my older sister’s marriage where my mother’s life changed forever. 
My family got into a horrible accident that by the miraculous grace of God left all her children and two friends and a husband with very little to no damage. The same couldn’t be said about this faithful woman; I remember looking down at her as they laid her on the ground. She had a broken neck, unable to move and the only thing she asked about was “ How are my children?”. When we went to her in the hospital, I saw my mother wrapped up in so many braces and tubes, and she looked at all of us and told us she loved us, to have faith in God, and to make sure we made our prayers. Six months she went through the most intensive therapy, she was told that it was a very minimal chance that she would walk again. You can’t tell this warrior that she can’t do something! Day and night she lived in excruciating pain, and until she was standing up and taking the first step with the aid of her walker. She taught me never to give up. I watched this woman, who I have never seen take a break, always on her feet, so independent, fall. It shook me. At times, I questioned why God would do this to such an amazing human, but she would reprimand me. Her faith was unflatteringly strong. She would tell me to thank God that she was still alive, that she was improving. This difficulty was a test and trust from God, and she wasn’t named “Faith” for anything. 
The years have passed, and I’m 22 now, I live alone with my parents and my older siblings have married, and all live in separate states; my youngest brother in college in a different state. I’ve grown so much closer to my mother in this time with her, I learn from her life, and live through her emotions. This woman is my best friend, and I could not imagine one second without her. At times, I’m not the best kid out there, when she is mad at me, I run circles around her because I can’t live past a day not seeing her smile. No woman I know has gone through what this warrior has gone through and still have that strong will and faith. She is always right, no matter how determined I am to prove her wrong, she’s right! She is patient with my father in every trial, every move, every difficulty, she is patient with her children, with every mistake, every fault, loving and guiding us towards the foundation she raised us on. The love she carries for us in her heart is beyond my understanding, but all I know is that if I can become a fraction of this faithful warrior, then I have nothing to worry about; my faith will carry me through. I don’t tell you this enough, but I love you, Mama, you’re my everything. 

Esraa

I’m trying to make up for all the weeks missed, so here is another one for the books.  On June 20th, I went on the most unforgettable journey to my homeland of Egypt with my best friend and co-writer of this blog, Anwar Mustafa. It was a real blessing that our parents let us embark on this adventure together; I was beyond excited to share my country with my Palestinian sister. If I’m honest, and I rather am with these blogs, I need to admit that I never really wanted to go to Egypt again.

When we visited, years ago, I didn’t connect with my cousins, which left Egypt an undesirable place to go. Because I never grew up Egyptian, the culture was peculiar and unsettling to me, and that left inadequate memories in my head. As a daughter of an Imam, you experience so many different cultures every day, so it’s hard to associate with just one. My parents raised us on one culture; the culture of Islam. I have an issue with cultural rulings in general, they are so judgmental and limiting; I’ll leave that for another blog.

Growing up, it was easy to throw the blame on my family for my dislike towards Egypt. I felt that they were not welcoming, they made us feel like outsiders. Simple little things, like wanting to eat with a spoon rather than my hands, left me with assumptions. At times, the way I spoke lead to judgmental comments about whether I worded or said something “correctly.”  What they didn’t know was that I spoke many Arabic dialects, so some words I said, weren’t typical Egyptian, and… well, I never explained that.

I was holding onto memories of things that happened when I was 7, 12, 15, and 17. I was a grown adult now, so were my cousins, surely we can all start a new page. Though I was very hesitant in going, I decided that this could be a great thing, a chance to put away the past and connect our hearts.

Before I went, I reached out to family that I only speak to during Eid. To my surprise, our interests were quite similar and we could relate to each other more than I had expected. My excitement to visit Egypt started to grow, but I was still a little weary. They didn’t seem to like me over there, but I had to admit the blame fell on my shoulders as well. When I felt uncomfortable I did either of two things: I’m either extremely reserved that it may come off as standoffish or I crack jokes and be a goofball to break the tension. The latter is something I started to do in recent years when I took an active decision to bring down my walls and allow people to know me. Since my family only experienced the first part, how could I continue to blame them for something I was at fault for?

The week before my travel, I took a long walk and decided that I would erase all those memories, I would enter my homeland after five years with an open heart and a clear mind. I would get to know my family on a more personal note, rather than the quick visits we had, that left us with no everlasting bond.

This decision is a choice I will always happily look back at with many amazing memories to cherish. I am pleased to say that I was wrong, I needed to wipe the gray lenses I was always looking through when it came to Egypt. I had to start seeing it with kinder eyes and connect with a gentler heart. So many misunderstandings were cleared up, and the breathtaking memories were to replace the ones that kept me away for all this time. I was actively aware of making sure they got to know who the real me was. No pretenses, no acting like something I wasn’t. If I spoke a weird way, I asked what the proper way to say it was; I learned. If I did something that they didn’t understand I explained my view and took in theirs. Having Anwar, was truly a blessing, for I saw my family through her eyes. The gentle manner they treated her, the love, and acceptance made me honored to call them family.  I fell in love with Egypt, its people, streets, dialect, and rich history. I may not always understand everything, I may always be a little different, but this year I looked beyond that. This year I connected my heart to my family and my land. Now I message them, we even FaceTime, and it’s not awkward or weird anymore. It’s actually quite nice. I have always longed for that, a connection with my family, but I wasn’t doing anything to change it.  I learned that in life we choose how we see things, we decide to accept or to ignore, we choose to love or to hate. It’s all up to us, so let us make the choices that will let us enjoy life to its fullest.​

​ 

Esraa

So, it’s been a minute or two since I’ve written anything. There are so many topics that have been running through my head to write about,  but I keep returning to one particular topic over and over again…my father.

I contemplate daily, on how blessed I am in this world to have my father in my life. With all the struggles that come along with being the daughter of an Imam, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I’ve learned so many valuable life lessons from my father, that I can’t imagine living without.  My father taught me perseverance, independence, love with no limitations, and to give with no expectations. He showed me life.  I’m so honored to have inherited his smile and laugh; they are what fill my world with joy.  I couldn’t be more proud to be like him.

Wouldn’t you wish to have a father like mine? Alhamdullah; Praise be to God.
Every where my father has gone, he has left behind a legacy. From his homeland of Egypt, my place of birth–Yemen, the valleys of California, the lakes of Michigan, the streets of Cleveland, and the greens of Pittsburgh. He has left an everlasting impact on each of these places, so much so, that his love surrounds me through the people he has lived amongst. When I was younger, I hated the thought of moving, of never being able to lay down roots, however, as I have grown into a young woman, I have come to truly appreciate all the places I have gone and the people I have met in each of the cities I’ve lived in. It’s due to this amazing man, that I have been able to have experiences in a variety of communities and countries, that many others have not been so lucky to experience.  The roots that I searched for,  were established in the people and places that he taught and lived.

My father is truly like no other, he raised  my siblings and I the best he can, however, I didn’t always think this way. I always wished he was there more, that the problems in the communities we lived in didn’t come before his children. As I sit now, and reflect on this gift Allah has given me, I couldn’t be more blessed for the way I was raised.  I learned selflessness, by watching him give his time willingly to others. As much as I longed for my father’s attention, this was the job that Allah gifted him with, a job that he took serious and is darn good at. There are no words or actions that I can ever do to show God how grateful I am for his gift to me. Nor, can I thank my father enough for all he has done to make me the person I am today.

What I love the most is how my father raised me and my siblings: Islamically, never culturally. He raised me on the teachings of my Prophet through the guidance of our Quran. He taught me the stories of the Prophets, the history of Islams legends;  from its great women to its scholars. He never limited my dreams, he encouraged me in every choice I took, supported me in every struggle and cheered with me at every accomplishment. He is my rock. He gave me the opportunities to travel the world, to experience different cultures and meet new people. He taught me to aim high to have pride  in who I am. He raised me to be an honorable and respectful woman. My father taught me life.
I started this blog to break down the stereotypes that surround us, the children of an Imam; to remove the thought that I was oppressed or limited in the experiences my father let me have.

Many can’t say that their father let them travel half way across the world with their best friend to experience a country in ways like never before. Whose father takes the time to teach them the Quran, so that it can be a guidance and savior in the day where there is no protection except from the most high? This man thinks my obsession with Harry Potter is crazy, but he let me travel to Florida just so I can go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. My Baba connects my heart year after year as he takes me to visit the blessed lands of Makkah and Medina. This father chose a career that taught me that the real beauty in life lies behind giving to others.

I seek Gods forgiveness in every shortcoming I have had towards my father. You see, my father and I are so similar in character that we constantly bicker or butt heads.  However, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I get so infuriated with how nonchalant he is about the evil that exists in the world; frustrated when I see him giving to people who only hurt him in return. However, he never seizes to amaze me, he chooses to only see the good in people.  He taught me love with no condition. The man he is lives within me; I dream to be just a fraction of the man he is. I want to leave behind the same essence of love, genuity and care.

While he may be my gift in this earth, I know that Allah has also made him a gift for the many who have crossed his path. The many hearts he touched with his beautiful character, they will always remember him and pray from him.

He is a legacy. He is my father. He is my gift from Allah.

No man will ever take the love he holds in my heart. I couldn’t be more honored to call myself “Bent Al Shiekh Sayed.”

Hug your fathers and make dua for them. Thank Allah every day for your gift. ​

​

By: Anwar 

My emotions are so high right now as I sit and write this blog. It’s been a solid month since my last post, but that’s because I was indulged in the beauty of Masr (Egypt) and its history, and more specifically, its people. The people that I met, got to know, and now I weep bittersweet tears as I leave them behind and think of the memories we created. Often I wonder to myself how I end up in these opportunities in regards to being able to travel and meet new people, when at the end all I do is get attached and cry as I depart. It’s such a blessing to have the freedom to travel the world, but I found my answer to the thoughts I often ponder, and that being, I learn so much about myself and my own character. 
For one, I love people. I’m clearly a people person. I love that I am, but sometimes I think “OH MY GOD, why?” I mean, I meet new people at least weekly or monthly, but most especially when I explore the world. I love meeting new people. I feel like I gain a whole new perspective of the world when I meet someone new. The bad part about it all is saying goodbye. It’s like that beauty of what you were just exposed to is taken away. It’s all temporary, but why does it have to be that way? I guess technology suffices for mending broken hearts nowadays. 
Another point as to why traveling bring importance to our lives -Is it that we enjoy temporary change? Well anyways, traveling always seems to be the best time to reflect upon traveling. Ha! Who woulda thought! Between 6 plane rides total, I was able to think about, and I came up with the following conclusion: Everyone needs to travel. Everyone deserves to travel. Don’t let anything hold you back. Travel to a place that’s different than what you’re used to. Give yourself a chance to explore the world beyond the scope of what you perceive. Give yourself a chance to mend with strangers who will most likely fill an empty void in your heart. Give yourself a chance to appreciate the little things in life and the big things that the world has to offer. We owe it to ourselves to appreciate the the things we take for granted… understanding how the world works beyond your front door, appreciating the access to fresh, filtered water, appreciating air conditioning where ever we go, and appreciating a sense of security we build within ourselves when we feel the world around us. Most importantly, you will appreciate the kindness and beauty of humans that we are often perceived not to see due to the plague of negativity that often surrounds us (that is if you allow it to). It’s quite amazing. Mend humanity together. It’s starts by stepping outside your front door. Travel and see the world. 
Before I leave, ponder this: why is it that we live in a world in which the identity you hold allows your limits to the world? Something to think about. I have hope this will change soon. This leaves me off on a totally different topic, for a future blog 😉. Let’s just say I was left mind-blown this past week after a convo with a very wise person. 
Until next time. Peace and blessings!
Love, 

Anwar 🤗

By Anwar 

It could’ve been me or you walking to the masjid (mosque) with my heart set on God, during the holiest month of the year, getting ready to worship my lord with the companionship of my friends. It could’ve been me or you that was kidnapped and murdered because racial and religious profiling seem to be the “trend” these days. It could have been me or you that never made it home that night and left our families gut-wrenched and heartbroken. Ask yourself, “how does that TRULY make you feel?” Seriously, be honest with yourselves. 
I’m not sure how much longer the world will continue to turn a blind eye to kidnappings, murders, terror attacks, racism, and bigotry against Muslims. I’m just not sure. I’m disturbingly sick of how often I turn on the news or hop onto social media, and there it is: LABLES. LABLES everywhere. You see a man with a beard, who isn’t Muslim labeled as a “Muslim terrorist”. You see a modest women dressed in hijab, and she’s apparently “oppressed”, but you see a woman flaunting her body in a bikini and she’s “free and beautiful”. A white man commits a crime, and he’s “mentally ill” or suffered “road rage”. A black man commits a crime, and he’s “a thug”. It makes no sense to me. It’s totally backwards. I mean that is my opinion, but I’m pretty logical. In this case, my opinion is truth. We just refuse to see it that way. We judge people because for years we’ve labeled groups of people based on religion, race, and gender. Let’s face it. It exists in all of us. I’m not sure what it’s going to take to turn this around, as I feel like we are far from it. 
Let’s reflect. 
We have a “President” who stands for nothing related to “for the people, by the people”. We have a mass media base that’s totally skewed to report everything but TRUTH. We have a world around us where children are dying and are being murdered by the masses and we’re totally numbed by it. 
I am so LOST. I have no idea what to do about it. I feel defeated, but I refuse to lose. I refuse to let oppression by society be the theme of the rest of my life and the for the lives of future generations. I need, we need people to band together to make change. Who is going to be the one to step up and actually do it? I mean honestly, who? We all say we want a part of it, but who is actually going to be the one? 
Here’s a thought. It begins with the already mentioned. REFLECT. Reflecting from within ourselves. Refusing to allow ourselves to be afraid of truth. Clear the blindness of our hearts and open our foggy minds to think and feel for what others are going through. Challenge yourselves to wear a hijab, and walk in a store. Have an open conversation with a Muslim, or walk in a mosque, and gain an open mind. I promise, you will be amazed. 
I’ll be honest. When I wore my hijab, “being judged” was something I struggled with. Now, I’m just over it. I wear my hijab as an obligation of worship to my creator. He is the one and only judge. Not society. I’ll continue to wear it proudly. I will continue to be a voice for the unheard. 

I will continue to stand up for the rights of Nabra who was assaulted, kidnapped, and brutally murdered by a fascist, and the other 1.7 billion Muslims around the globe, who are the victims of hate, terrorism, and bigotry. 
It is my duty. 

Now it just needs to be yours. 

I decided to write a poem today…

I’ve been sitting here for hours,
Contemplating life and its meaning.
In this unknown world,
its beauty and glamor; deceiving.
A part of me is lost,
I can’t shake the feeling.
No words are being spoken,
but my heart is screaming.
I’m not made for this world,,,
Is anyone hearing?!
The lies, trickery, and deceit
that’s all I’m seeing
Happiness and love
are but moments fleeting.
Every day, I wake up,
and life is just repeating.
I don’t know who I am,
or what I’m even seeking!
The only thing I know is
this earth; no longer appealing.
I tell myself; keep going,
keep breathing.
A day needs to come,
there will be healing.
Simplicity and purity;
A reality, no longer just dreaming.
Every part of me knows it
I just gotta keep on believing
One day I’ll be in Heaven
awaiting HIS greeting.

By Esraa

By Anwar 

Nope, not even water, but trust me when I say, that’s okay!! That question typically comes along with a negative connotation, but let me tell you, Ramadan is undoubtably my favorite time of the year. No question. Yes, no food or water for nearly 17 hours a day for 30 days straight, and it’s my favorite time of the year. Just based off of hearing that, you probably think I’m crazy. It’s only because Ramadan is beyond that, waaaaaaaaaaaay way way beyond that. This time of year brings people together, not just over a sunset meal, but at the mosque as well. People you haven’t seen since the previous Ramadan, you see again in Ramadan. You catch up like you never left off. There’s just something different about the air. I swear I’m not crazy, I can’t be the only one that thinks that. I mean if you know what katayef are (a middle eastern dessert usually only made in Ramadan), well even they taste especially amazing during Ramadan. In fact, I can only eat them during Ramadan! It’s really an unexplainable feeling, but if I have to put in into words, it’s beyond glorious. 
Working during Ramadan, whether it be during school time or during the summer working summer jobs, non-Muslims are always mesmerized at the fact that we can’t have anything to eat or drink. Trust me, it’s harder some days than others, but the gratefulness you’re taught and the patience you gain for having what you have is honestly a wonderful, grateful feeling. I mean, I fast for 17 hours a day knowing that by sunset, I’ll be breaking my fast to a five-star Palestinian meal. What do others have? What do those boys and girls and mothers and fathers in third world countries have? They barely have access to fresh, clean water, and that’s EVERYDAY. I’m restricted from food, water, and worldly temptations for a few hours each day for 30 days and then I’m rewarded at the end of each day. I thank God everyday, but for me, I know it’s not enough. I could thank him more. I know I could. His blessings and mercy are beyond imaginable. So please, don’t feel bad when I cannot eat or drink for a few hours each day. I enjoy it. I gain so much reward out of it. Yes it’s hard sometimes, especially during these summer months, but it’s not meant to be easy. It’s meant to allow us to sympathize with those who struggle everyday. Those who have limited resources. I’m blessed and grateful by the Almighty that I have access to fresh drinking water at sunset. It’s those little blessings that we overlook everyday that we become so thankful for. Another thing, please please please don’t feel bad when you have to eat or drink in front of me. Do your thing. It’s okay! I promise! I get rewarded for that too! 😊 When I tell you His mercy is endless, it truly is. 

“Well, what if you’re sick? What if you have medications to take? What if this? What if that?” Trust me. I understand. These are all good questions, but they come with a logical answer. God never meant for us to fast and suffer or risk your life in the process of Ramadan. If you can’t handle fasting due to a valid reason, you just don’t fast. It’s especially tough for diabetics or women who are pregnant, or those seriously ill. God has answers to everything. If you’re caught in a bind or seriously unsure, seek and Imam or Sheikh to help you, but keep in mind, be mindful and be logical. 

Oh Ramadan, the glorious 9th month of the Lunar year of the Islamic Calendar. It’s a time of year when the gates of hell are closed and the glory doors of Jannah have opened. A time when God, day and night, night and day, gives us the opportunities to better ourselves through fasting from the worldly matters of this Earth. A time when prayers are answered, God’s servants seek his forgiveness, and because his mercy is beyond the greatness we can imagine, our deeds are granted as blessings beyond our knowledge. God’s mercy is undeniably endless. It’s up to us to create that foundation to become better, recharge, refuel, and strive for living life to please the one and only Almighty. 

Ramadan refuels the the mind, body, and soul. It teaches you patience, thankfulness, personal struggle, steering away from temptations, and really focusing on one main thing that collectively brings all these ideas together. The one thing that sums up the meaning of Ramadan in a nutshell, and that’s one’s relationship with Allah (God). Establishing a connection with God during this holy month especially, is so amazing. I mean just hearing the recitation of Quran or reading from the Quran, you just feel a special kind of connection. Like God’s word is literally right there. The same message spoke to those before us, 1400+ years ago. It’s quite a miracle within it’s self. I’ll be honest with you, I wish I devoted more time to God’s book prior to and after Ramadan as much as I do during. I still have to establish that balance. For me, my struggle now is balancing that spiritual high I’m on during Ramadan with life after Ramadan. Summer makes that tough. Its tough because during the summer, I feel I have more balance and will to commit myself to my faith. I absolutely enjoy Ramadan during the summer months. I feel like I’m in Palestine. My nights become days and my days become nights. You’re up at 3 a.m. and it feels so normal. You’re at the mosque for countless hours, surrounded by amazing people and it’s such a beautiful thing, and then as soon as Eid (Islamic holiday commemorating the end of Ramadan) is over, all of a sudden everything naturally takes a halting stop. It’s so depressing. It’s like going through terrible separation anxiety. And for those who know me, I generally struggle with that. A LOT. It’s so tough. Ramadan leaves you for 11 more months. So much transpires in that 11 months. Ups and downs, and all you want is stability, stability with devoting your life to God, and Ramadan naturally allows for that. I hate to say I rely on Ramadan, but I do. I think most can agree with me. That’s why it’s so hard finding that balance. I need to find a balance and maintain it. I need to make this daily commitment to Allah. Praying 5 times a day everyday, just simply isn’t enough. Gosh, just writing about Ramadan, I realize we’re nearly near the half way point. I mean let’s be honest, IT’S FLYING BY 😭. 
Although during the summer months, Ramadan has long days and short nights, it honestly goes by like a blink of an eye. As Ramadan nears the midpoint and then eventually an end, I want you all to join me. Let’s make our mark, and find an equalizing balance for until next Ramadan. We will most likely have an uphill, down hill struggle, but I rather leave and meet with Ramadan 2018 knowing we tried. May Allah grant us purity, patience, guidance, and ease between this Ramadan and the next, and may he unite us all each Ramadan in which we all positively come together and benefit from one another. Ameen. Peace and blessings to you all. 
My Greatest Regards, 
Anwar 😊

P.S. Let’s be real here. One of the biggest struggles is grocery shopping during Ramadan. Those Swiss Rolls that you told yourself you’d never eat again, all of a sudden look amazing. 😭 

By Esraa 

What is it with three a.m.? It seems like I get the writing bug around this time most nights.  Here I am sitting in my room, in Pittsburgh, while the entire world is sleeping, typing away this next blog. I hope you are all ready for this, because a big rant may be coming your way. My eyes may just get stuck in the back of my head from the amount of times I will roll my eyes while reliving these memories. Here I am in college, getting ready to go to my classes and by some random chance, I chose today to wear pants. It just may seem that the world has ended, Esraa is wearing pants. I repeat ESRAA IS WEARING PANTS! Make sure when you see her, you comment about it, while you’re at it, snap a picture! Maybe I’m a little bit over dramatic, I’ll admit, but this is how it feels in my head.  

It seems like everyone I meet along the way will say, “Wow, I have never seen you wear pants before,” or jokingly… I think: “Bent Al sheikh is wearing pants.” The eye is rolling. I would tell them “why don’t you take a picture so you can document it in history?” I kid you not, many did! At the moment I laugh, I know it’s all fun and games. However, in my head, an entirely different reaction is happening. Most likely the person I’m having this conversation with is wearing pants. I’m not freaking out, why are you? 

See this scenario above mostly happens with my friends, so it doesn’t bother me as much as the next scenario. I get it, it’s a shock; I rarely wore pants. I preferred the flow of skirts, and many times I wore an Abaya to school {a traditional Islamic dress}. For me to randomly walk in one day, in pants, was out of the norm. Their reactions made me more and more uncomfortable to wear pants again, I would think ten times before I did. 

Now, this scenario Is where I have a major problem. The older generation of the community. If it happened once, it happened a few million times. They will see me randomly in the store as I hurriedly shop for a particular thing or two, or by some chance, I have stopped by the masjid to give my father something.  Low and behold!  Esraa is wearing pants! I can see it in their eyes when they look me up and down, the judgment in their tone as they comment on my choice of dress. Many times, I’d hear it at home when one lady would tell my mom, that she saw Esraa in the store and she was wearing pants. Yup, I think my eyes just got stuck there.

They made me want to scream! Did they not understand what they were doing? That at times this made me feel like rebelling. I would wear pants out of my comfort just to prove a point. It was ridiculous. Who were you to pass that judgment? Wasn’t it a little hypocritical that you felt the need to make this an issue as you stood before me in your pants? 

Why? Because I was Bent Al Shiekh? Aren’t we both Muslim? If it wasn’t allowed for me, then it’s sure as heck wasn’t allowed for you. Who set these standards and rules that I needed to follow? What right was given to you to determine the way I dressed? I followed my dress code based on the teachings of my faith; those were the rules I followed. Pants were a rare thing to me, because modesty was a major key in the way my parents raised me, and in my personal preference. When I wore pants, I made sure my shirts were long. I don’t need to defend myself to anyone; my only judge is God. 

So, what the heck is your point Esraa? We get it, we shall never comment on your pants again. Well, if this is your train of thought, firstly I thank you.  But, my point here is, while you think what you are doing isn’t that big of a deal and that it may be a joke or some weird kind of concern, keep in mind the undeserved pressure you place upon us, “Children of the Shiekh.” Very recently I got to know about a girl I knew while growing up; she was a daughter of Shiekh, as well. I was saddened to hear about the route she had taken in her life, and I pray to God to bring her back to clarity, but this is what can happen when the judgment and pressure gets too much. We, as the Muslim community, need to work on being more accepting, forgiving and welcoming. My rant is coming to an end, and my eyes are rolling back to place. Thanks for taking the time to read. 

Peace out, 

Esraa 
P.S I type this as I’m wearing pants…

Written By: Anwar

I needed an outlet. Over a cup of coffee, well a salted-caramel mocha to be exact (with a pretty foam swirl forming the shape of a heart), a chat with a couple friends, advice from the experienced, and support from my best friend and co-author of this blog, Esraa, I decided that this was best. I was able to come to a conclusion that this would be the starting platform of what my small world needs to know. It just makes sense. That’s why these blogs exist. Afterall, it’s better than keeping it bottled in, verbally venting to others, or just plain overthinking. There are so many experiences to share, for within the last 7 years of my life, I feel like I’ve lived multiple lives just based off of different experiences and interactions. Ha! Weird to say, and you’re probably thinking, “where the heck is this going?” You’ll see, and hopefully you’ll grasp the idea. Here is my goal of trying to piece it all together! Between working in a hospital, attending college, being a full-time, avid Cleveland sports fan, being involved with the local mosque, balancing healthy relationships between my family and friends, putting my faith before my worldly life, rekindling my love to my culture (both American and Palestinian), to eventually becoming a teacher and a coach, where do I even begin?! Well, rather how do I even begin to tell you about my experiences, the people I’ve met along the way, and how it has effected and shaped me to the person I am today among this outlasting society in which we live. A blog –A blog as a platform for you to understand, if you want. Otherwise, I’m venting by writing out my thoughts, experiences, and life. You can choose to stay and listen, read between the lines, or smile and walk away. I’ll never know! 🙂
Best Regards,

Anwar

By Esraa

I’ve played around with the concept of writing a blog for many years, but one thing or another always held me back. This time with the encouragement of my co-author and best friend, Anwar, I’ve decided to take the plunge.
I have recently come to understand that being silent is often worse than shouting at the top of your lungs. In this age of electronic media, getting one’s “voice” out there may be easy; however, having it “heard” is next to impossible. Blogging is a forum for the expression of ideas, feelings, thoughts and information – a means to share and learn from others lives and experiences. I think of words as a window into the writer’s mind; every word is a little part of their soul being shared to the world.
I am not anyone special; I’m just like any other human being who has walked, lived and played this game of life. However, each one of us has a different story to tell. My family immigrated to America from Egypt when I was only two years old. America is the only home I know, and English is my first language. My parents, however, made sure my four siblings and I were fluent in Arabic and maintained our Islamic culture.
I am the fourth child out of three girls and two boys, my father is a Shiekh/Imam, and my mother is a retired teacher. It’s the concept of who my dad is that has shaped my life and the main reason behind why I started this blog. A Shiekh is a Muslim Chapel leader similar to a Priest or a Rabbi, so you can imagine the position he held in the community and the responsibilities that came along with it. My father’s job wasn’t one he could leave at the door when he walked out after a strenuous day at work. Nope, this stuck to him, and it stuck to his family. We gained the title of “Children of the Shiekh” or “Wife of the Sheikh,” and people would call us that all the time. It was as if our entire identity was just tied to him; as if his wife or children didn’t have a name. Don’t get me wrong; it’s an honor, and I am grateful for who my father is without that identity I wouldn’t be half the awesome person I am today, :). But, there is more to who I am then just who my father is, I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, and a friend to many. Every one of those relationships experiences “Esraa” differently, and they all form the ultimate being of who I am. Through my journey, I have met some of the most phenomenal people, and explored so many of life’s gems. It wasn’t just the title that irked me, rather all the standards that society placed upon us. So, I thought, why keep it in me, let’s break down the stereotypes one blog at a time. You’re going to hear this multiple times through out my blogs…my name is Esraa, not Bent Al-Shiekh.

With love,

Esraa