To Whom It May Concern

Every time I showed the faces of my 4-year-old and, 5-year-old to anyone and asked, “can they go up to Acropolis?” They paused for a second. Then very hesitantly they would say, “Well people have done it.” I don’t know. You can try”. However, this is one of those places where you don’t know when you get to go again. Once you are here you want to do everything. I also want my kids to experience as many things as they can. I want them to know the world not just from our eyes but from the eyes of others as well. I want them to see it and know it as others have known it. If they have a chance to learn that from this age then why not? So we took a chance and believed in our kids, and more importantly believed in our selves as parents.

On the way there and back I didn’t see a single child their age. It could have been a coincident. It is a place for adults after all. Not just for adults but for adults who really care about, history, culture, and philosophy. Kids care about none of that generally. I was scared to make this adventure with them. In the end I was pleasantly surprised. They loved climbing up. They did not complain once. Loved all the birds and bugs they found on the way. Pretended all the marbles was water and made a game out of everything. Every time they saw any marble or slippery surface that we would ask them to be careful walking on or running over they would scream, “BE CAREFUL OF THE WATER, YOU WOULD’NT WANT TO SLIP”. People would look around to see where the water is. A few times,  quiet embarrassed, we had to explain to people, that there is no water and the kids are just pretending. They went up and came down just the same, running and playing. It was great.

Goes to show you my kids surprised me. I don’t have a big huge lesson for anyone here. Just a small reminder for myself why I haven’t stopped traveling even after having kids. Its hard and frustrating sometimes but its worth it because in a few years I will have awesome traveling buddies who will understand the world so much better than me and might even teach me a thing or two about how wonderful it is if you just let your mind run free.

 

A lot has changed since I last wrote about anything. The world is a different place. A lot scarier and much less friendly; People ask me how do you keep ignoring all of it and just keep posting about everyday life like nothing is happening? How do you keep thinking and acting in ways as though what’s happening is not of your concern because you don’t live there anymore? You are still a part of that country. Are you not? Or have you given into what *they* want you to believe? You don’t belong there so you have left? Mind and body?

It’s true I have not commented about any of it on social media in a while. It’s true that I have not written anything about this in a long while. However it’s not that this, what’s happening out there does not consume my every waking hour. It’s not true that I don’t think of myself as part of that country mind, body, and soul. What I’m unsure of right now is my role as an American Muslim sitting in a foreign land who was born in another land. I feel a certain way. I’m seen another way. My voice is limited. My choices and options are even further limited. On top of that my cherry on my delicious cake, I’m a woman. A mother of boys; boys Im supposed to raise who can accomplish anything they want. Yet I am supposed to not lead by example but teach only by my words. “Look at that great big world out there” I am supposed to tell them. “Your mom can’t go out and get everything that’s in it because she has a huge list of do’s and don’ts attached to her but you go out there and do your best. I can drive you around (metaphorically because in this country I cant even do that), make your schedules and lunches and cheer you on and tell you how great you are and then sit on the sidelines and watch as you wonder why I cant do all the same things I tell you that you can go after. Oh also you have to remember kids, you are brown and Muslim. In some places you’ll have to remember to keep your head down and just smile. Just breathe in and breathe out. But I can’t guarantee you that this will protect you because I have tried it and I have not been protected. I have not been saved.”

“So you may not have as many restrictions as your mom because she is not just a woman she’s a Muslim woman who wears a scarf, but you do have some so keep that in mind when you are out there.”

You see there are many hands muffling my voice. There are many arms pulling me back. What do I write about? Where do I start? The every day of dealing with life and deciding what I want myself to be and what I want my children to be takes over and I sit in front of my computer with too many thoughts and too many words and nothing to write.

Yet I understand that it’s not a struggle as hard for those who are suffering in places and being denied a right to live. My life is too comfortable compared to theirs. Sometimes I stay quiet because it’s just not fair. What right do I have to be this comfortable when others wait for years and months for shelter only to be turned away? When they can’t return home to bury their dead.

 

It’s a cheap pendant. I don’t even remember where I bought it from, I have thought about putting better ones around my neck but the amount of pulling and playing my boys have done with this thing stops me. I think, I’ll just save the nice ones for special occasions and keep this on for them to pull on in case it breaks. So, this has been here around my neck for as long as they can remember. They play with it right before bed. They pull on it when I’m wiping their little butts on the potty. Yeah, its pretty annoying for me but some functions this little necklace has found are pretty handy as well. For example, when my older son is throwing a fit I have him focus on the necklace and many times it gets him to calm down. I cradle him in my arms and ask him, “What shape is my necklace” or “can you tell how many shades?” it’s a weirdly calmly exercise for him.  I really didn’t realize what this has become to all of us.

When I was getting it, it was because I had a gift card to the place, it was the nicest thing at the store, and not something I necessarily liked a lot.

I took it off today because my neck was itching and put it on my dresser. I forgot that I didn’t have it on because it’s very light. My son saw it sitting there and brought to me. He says, “Mom your necklace was on your dresser, you’re not wearing it”. I said yeah baby my neck and facing are  itching I’ll put it on later.

He says, “No you have to put it on now. How will I sleep?”

And just like that this became the most coveted piece of jewelry I own.

Have you ever tried to explain to a 3 and 4 year old that everything you do is for “their own good”? Yeah the good old mom line. I did that yesterday. I kid you not; I totally pulled that on my toddlers. What’s even strangers is that I think they understood it. I said something like, “My job is to take care of this family and sometimes that means stopping you from doing things you want to do because I know that thing can hurt you even though you may enjoy it.” One of them responded with, “Yes, just like when you tell us not to jump on the bed because it can break and we will fall and get hurt and we won’t have any place to sleep either. But sometimes we still keep doing it so you have to stop us angrily.” That makes my anger and yelling look real good, doesn’t it?

I digress.

You would think I’m exaggerating the level of understanding my children have,  but I’m not. I wish I had taught of this example myself. I realized that there is so many things we can make them understand that we never bother to because we think they are too young to comprehend. The only thing they’re too young for is putting words to what’s in their heads. We just need to help them with that. Once that starts to happen I think it will be easy to figure out what is the extent of their comprehension, which is definitely beyond what we as parents usually expect.

The interesting thing is on the one hand we brag about our children to whomever that would listen. On the hand we under estimate their abilities almost every step of the way. Why we do that is really beyond MY understanding.

There are many things as the caretaker of the household that I have to do that my children don’t understand. This was becoming a constant cause of tension between us, specially as they get older. I didn’t know how to make them understand every step of the way. They had so many questions, some I can answer for them but some things they just have to trust me with. I wasn’t sure how to handle that. So one day I had this conversation with them.

This is not the end of it, not by a long shot. I have to keep talking about it and keep reminding them that this is the reason I do certain things and ask them to do certain things they don’t understand or don’t like. They still complain and give me a hard time but they now fight me less and are less frustrated.

Which obviously means I’m less frustrated and screaming way less.

I would definitely encourage sitting down and having this talk with your children no matter how young they are. This is not a one-time conversation but it is definitely helpful.

Talk to our children. Who would have thought, right?

 

The election is over. We have a president, and it’s not the woman. What a shock! Right? It’s a shock because it’s that man who makes us see and hear the truths we don’t want to. It’s a shock because we don’t want to know how much we are not welcome and wanted among the people we consider our own. We are saddened and disappointed because we can’t believe after all this time Americans wouldn’t want a woman to make decisions for them.

Problem isn’t that Donald Trump is a man hell bent on gaining power and destroying us in the process; the problem is, he is us. He’s our hidden face in its full glory shinning in the light of day for all to see. And guess what? Its pretty ugly. So ugly that even we are trying to look away and disown it.

It would be pretty easy to blame this entire chaos on the men of the country but a presidential race in not won only by the men. It’s not won without the help of the women who cry “feminism” and who cry “male dominance” at every step in their lives. So what happened when you had to tick that little box for a man who is the ugly side of every man or for a woman who was qualified for the job? You chose the man? At least some of you did. Those of you who did, don’t you dare complain about another man in your life again. Because you chose them to dominate and rule you as they please and by choices you make it seems you don’t mind it either. You took away your right to complain and your right to fight for it yourself.

So what’s next? Are we just really really screwed?

Anyone who might think that I am a Hillary supporter, I am definitely not. I don’t think Hillary Clinton was the lesser of two evils. I don’t know what she is. But we know for sure what he is. He was something to stay far away from. Her, we needed to give a chance…maybe it would have been a bad idea. I don’t know. But there’s no way this isn’t going to end badly. Time has come though, to move on and mend our differences. What’s done is done. I am ready to move on. I have no grievances with anyone. In fact if you voted for Trump please don’t tell me and we will continue to be friends and just move along.

However, this man spent months and months spewing hate against me and anyone else he chose. Let me have my day or week of mourning and sadness. It’s my well-earned, well-deserved right to say what I need to about him. We’ll come together and work harder than ever I’m sure to put right what he has broken in all of us. But right now I’m heartbroken and disappointed in my country and quiet frankly I have a right to be, so let me take my time.

So, what is next? Are we just really really screwed?

Yes.

This is a story from a few days ago. I was helping my kids get ready for school when I said it. It’s not something that doesn’t happen often but my older son’s response really made me think. I told my kids that I am giving them Apples for snack. They both looked at me with the same look of confusion and said, “No we want Grapes.” I said yes that’s what I said I’m giving you Apples. They repeated “NO MOM WE WANT GRAPES”. Then I realized I had been saying Apple instead of Grapes. I told them I meant Grapes. I though to myself how could I confuse the two fruits? Not five minutes ago I was downstairs putting Grapes in their snack boxes. They were both quiet for a bit. Then as my older one was walking out of his room he turned around and looked at me, then said very thoughtfully, “Mom how can you say Apple and mean Grapes? They are not similar at all.” Without waiting for an answer he walked away. He hasn’t asked me to explain myself since. Usually he bugs me with “Why’s” and doesn’t leave me alone until he gets an answer out of me.

However this time I have answers for him, so many answers. Grapes turn into Apples my dear son because I’m a mom. More specifically I’m your mom. You know how to ask endless questions about things that might not be important to other children. You can be stubborn about the tiniest of matters. You remember just the other day we had a 30-minute argument because you didn’t want me to hold the spoon in my hand when bringing your bowl and spoon to the table? You wanted the spoon in the bowl. I told you we’re already in the middle of breakfast now, so just eat. But you threw a fit. I didn’t know how to undo what which was already done. But you insisted to start over. But how? That’s the kind of thing that turns one fruit into another and, turns keys into pens and, makes all kinds of other miracles happen.

Interestingly, even though he drives me absolutely insane there would be no light in my life without him. Every day would be the same. I would not wake up thinking, “lets see what he thinks up today”. This is not an exaggeration. This child of mine is completely unique in the way he wants to live his life and it’s interesting to watch him go about his daily activities. I enjoy him as much as it tires me out and turns my brain to complete mush. Just yesterday I was instructed by him not to talk any of his friends’ parents. I was volunteering at his school. He said, “don’t talk to anyone just help and leave”. While I was there he said, “You’re not talking to people, right? Just help quietly.” He’s four years old in case that has escaped any of you. I have been asking him repeatedly what he is so afraid of me saying to the parents but he wont tell me. He doesn’t mind me talking to his teachers because he knows we communicate on a regular basis and he’s fine with that. If he wasn’t you can be sure I would know about it.

His school will be celebrating Spirit week all next week. They will dress up in different costumes every day. One of the days is “twin day” the idea is for two friends to dress up exactly alike. He refuses to do that because no two people are the same. He keeps saying, “But mom you said I’m unique and I shouldn’t change, I don’t want to change.” I am trying to explain to him that this is not the same as changing your personality. It is only a costume for a few hours. I’m trying to explain that…

This just means Apples sometimes literally mean Grapes. That is all.

I talk but I’m quiet most of the time. I don’t let the bleed of the heart come out much. I have been feeling it a lot with everything that’s going on around us. We have the ability to discuss other people’s lives and the audacity to make decisions about them like we are in charge of the world. We like to play god and then we like to play martyr in the same breath. Then when we our verdict, we sit back and watch everyone’s life crumble while we do nothing. I include myself in those people. I am not any better because I have done nothing other than contribute to the same discussion. I think sharing a few posts on Facebook is going to make it all better. The guilt inside that tells me otherwise but I tell myself; go ahead keep doing what you are doing. You are spreading the message, that is enough. I want to believe it. My comfort is more important than the suffering of others and I get comfortable in the knowledge that I informed people. I did my part for the day. I am done for today. Tomorrow is a new day.

All the while all the knowledge of everything that going wrong in the world, everyone that is hurting in the world is bleeding in my heart. I know I am not doing enough. I know that can’t be it. I know I can do more. I want to do more. I look at my children, at their peaceful faces that are not being harmed in any way. My children that are not in any immanent danger and think what if they were? What would I do? What mountain would I not climb? What ocean would I not cross? What blast would I not throw myself at to save them from? In the end if there were people who refused to help me save them what would I think of those people? What would be my emotions would I have towards those people? What would I want to do to those people if I ever got a chance? So I wonder today how much right do I have to be called a good person because I claim I care? I wonder how much of a right I have to be called a decent person because I claim I have not hurt anyone knowingly. Because hurting people is what I do everyday knowingly. There are bombs, guns and disease that kill children, their families every day while I do nothing to help. So, no I am not a good person. I do hurt people deliberately every day.

 

Have you heard about the secular French government tried to ban the Burkini? Well, its been over turned now but they tried really hard. The trouble isn’t over it seems.  Have you also heard about people talking about how the women need to be free from this oppressive culture of having to cover all the time, even at beach! I mean my goodness it’s the beach wear a bikini. Who are these men to tell them what to wear? Their religion is so oppressive.

I’m sure you’ve also heard of the latest controversy of Ibtihaj Muhammad v. Dalilah Muhammad at the Olympics? It’s being called “spiritual abuse.” Ibtihaj Muhammad is given way more importance in the Muslim community and has been brought up way more than then Dalilah they say. No one is celebrating the later they claim on social media and news outlets.

We are such terrible people, us Muslims. Spiritually, abusing our women. That’s just all Muslims do it seems. Abusing women through clothing. Purpose of life, for Muslim men, or Islam, confused about that but something to that effect. No matter what Muslim women have to say about it THAT is what everyone who is NOT Muslim or female will say about it.

I say we are proud of Dalilah Muhammad. But we are more proud of Ibtihaj because if she normalizes hijab then maybe I can walk onto a beach in my Burkini and not get fined or have to drag my traumatized crying children off the beach with me. “Spiritual abuse” is not when Dalilah is celebrated with the rest of the world including Muslims but Ibtihaj is given an extra pat on the back for breaking a barrier that no one had before. Spiritual abuse is when a woman is forced to undress in front of a huge crowd against her will. You see for a Muslim woman taking off just outer layer is not just as simple as taking of a jacket. We feel literally naked in a bikini. This is not an exaggeration. It’s like walking around in our lingerie’ in public. So this demand from us is ridiculous. NOT.GOING. TO. HAPPEN.

It’s a choice. I’m sure you’ve heard that before if you know anything about this issue. So, I’m not going to go in detail because obviously if I’m saying that we are not being forced, and we are choosing our religion then of course the practices of the religion are our own choice. I tell you I say the word, “choice” so much when it comes to the hijab it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. My choice. My choice to wear it: no gun to my head, no whip to my back to cover up, no slap to my face to stay silent and sit at home, no pepper spray gun to put on a scarf or a burkini when I go to the beach. See what I mean? Stops sounding like words. Just jumble of nothing. Maybe, its because no one is listening.

While we’re on the subject, covering up doesn’t mean oppression and it doesn’t mean we’re hiding or doing away with our sexuality.

I’m a sexual being. I know it and I own it. Do dozens of people that I meet every day need to know about it as soon as we meet? I control when, how and who. I am in charge of my body. Women who choose to be (for the lack of a better word) more explicit with their sexuality are making a choice and that’s what they are comfortable with. I make no judgments. Me, I have my own ways in which I express my self and my sexuality, leave us be. I am in control and I like it that way.

By the way I’m not Arab. Just Muslim. 🙂

I like to watch romantic comedies. Mainly because there isn’t much thinking or following of the plot involved, Also because I can laugh and judge the characters. I like to eat a lot of junk food and tell specially the women in the scenario what they’re in for; I like to roll my eyes and tell them those are not the things that are going to define their relationship, and if real people waited for that kinds of things to happen to them or if we looked for those kinds of people no one would ever have a successful relationship.

However, that is only what I like to scream at or whisper at my TV. That’s not what I tell my friends and family when they are getting married or stepping into a new relationship. Believe it or not I’m a hopeless romantic. Whenever a guy or a girl is scoping out a prospect I’m the first one to ask, “did you feel the fireworks?” I usually get berated by the mom or the big sister for saying that because, “this is not a rom-com and in real life there are no fireworks”. I tell them we have forgotten. We’ve been married for so long that we have forgotten that there were once fireworks. There was a time that we excitedly waited for our spouses to come home. We weren’t just excited because it was their turn to wipe some baby butts.

 

Now we are so quick to point out to our youngins the reality that awaits them. We are so quick to tell them that in their fairytale there will be cranky partners. There will be dirty dishes and crying babies. We want them to know because we were unprepared. Which is true, we probably were, I can’t remember anymore. At the same time we weren’t prepared for the first time we got flowers either. We weren’t prepared for the first time someone’s wife sent them a birthday gift at work because they couldn’t make it home on time. No one is prepared for anything. So, I like to help my “protégé’s” to be prepared for both sides of the token.

Chances are no matter who you are if you’re being honest with your self you’re relationship is going to suck eggs at some point. It will have its ups and downs and there will be times when you will wish that you could hide in a box and just shut yourself from the world. Nevertheless that is not going to be the case all the time. Those other times should also be mentioned and talked about. Why shouldn’t the people in one’s life prepare you for those times? Why should only the bad times be mentioned and discussed, right?

Right. I know I’m right. We’ve been hurt by our own fantasies and fairy tales so many times that we are afraid to let others dreams. We are afraid for the pain that it might cause them. Stop and think. Think of the times that we weren’t hurt. That it happened. The magic was there. Sometimes it’s still there. Don’t take that away. Don’t take that away from others and don’t take that away from yourself either. Between stinky butts and sleepless nights there are moments when the small portions of tucked away fairytales come out to play. Just for a moment life doesn’t suck eggs. In those moments we are reminded of that silly girl who believed everything that her prince told her. Then that silly girl turned around and told all of that to her friend, and they both lived partially happily between working and dealing with real life and waiting for those tucked away fairytale moments.

Something has been bothering me. And you know anything that bothers us blogger types, we right about it. Yep. That is what we do. We think we’re so cool with, our, “ugh this is so uncool I need to tell the world about it”. No, but for real this is something I need to tell everyone about. This one is actually important. No joke.

Also, I’m a real blogger now. That’s what I tell people. You should too. About me, that is.

All of a sudden being a girly girl is not being a woman. We only get to be proud of being tough. I want to own being a Disney fan and a girly girl. I want to own liking purple and watching beauty and the beast and someone to say ,” THATS a woman”. What’s wrong with that? Why can’t I be all that and still be empowered? Why do I have to be colorless to be strong? Why do I have to be screaming, screeching, telling someone something is wrong somewhere to be strong? Strength doesn’t necessarily mean anger and wrath.

Strength of character doesn’t mean not being able to show emotion. I see so many news articles, or even opinion articles about how certain women were so “badass” or “strong” because they “set someone straight”. I understand that our voices have to be louder than that of men to be heard otherwise we can get lost in the noise.

I also understand that I made many people cringe with the Disney and the pink and purple and I have opened up so many discussions. Here is my point though: I am a Disney fan. I still believe along with being that I can still be a feminist. That doesn’t mean I don’t see the problems with Disney movies and characters. I can wear pink and speak softly and still climb up that ladder and stand next to a man in any competition that I need to. That doesn’t mean I’ll end up flirting with them. Just because I am wearing a softer color, or just because I’m wearing a smiling rather than a bitchy attitude doesn’t mean Im for sure going to sleep my way up.

The problem is though that we are starting to do this to ourselves. This woman or girl is so cool because she is just like a guy. “Elsa was a ‘leader’ like her father”. “We need more women who can be Kings”. Where are the queens and princess who can lead like princess and queens?

Where is the softness that is a trademark of a woman? Why are we being taught to forsake that? That I don’t believe is feminism. If you ask me, which I realize that you are not, is the opposite of feminism. Women are soft and gentle. We are also strong and vicious. We aren’t just badass when we are screaming and fighting. We can be badass when we are being kind and trying to hold down an entire house. We can be badass when we are trying to calmly handle situations that need a sharp mind and a gentle loving touch. We can be badass when we are in charge of a nation. We may not have done that in the US yet but it has happened in many other countries.

What it means to be a woman is being changed by those who don’t really understand what a woman really is. I’ve worked; I’ve been the employ and the employer. I know a little bit about how this whole thing works. Sure no one takes you seriously unless you ”act like a man” because unfortunately that’s how our twisted world works. However, it’s pretty cool when we do things our way. It’s by no means easy, and by no means fun. The only thing I’m emphasizing here is that we as women should not fall for this B.S that we need to lose our femininity to be successful or better. I believe we need to do just the opposite; we need to keep it at full blast. We need to own it. That is what makes our point of view unique and makes us the different half. That’s why we work well together because men and women bring something different to the table, something equally important.

I have a hard time getting taken seriously. I run a household. Ran a business, and I still had men who were barely out of school telling me how to do my job. Why? Because I wasn’t doing it like a tough woman, or maybe just because I was a woman. So, that’s when I would smooth the creases of my face look at them dead in the eye and say, “ I have a successfully running business and double the degrees you do. Talk to me when you have achieved any of those things.”

I realize the problem goes way beyond just minor criticism for us and I am not undermining that in anyway. The purpose of this post is to simply state that we are great when are ourselves. Im tired of the comparison of men and women. There is no comparison. I don’t even want to say that we are better. I’m tired of the tug of war with the father of our children, our brothers and fathers. We are both great in our abilities. We can both conquer the world with our own capabilities. We don’t need to hijack each other’s or undermine our own to feel fulfilled.