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Creative Writing

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Literature

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Travel

I Remember.


I remember playing with pebbles beside a Scottish lake, a body being exhumed a week later.

I remember watching men carry the carcass of a cow from a truck filled with its departed friends. I wondered about the families they left behind, their children, their dreams.

I remember faking a headache to avoid having to wear a dress in a play about Picasso. Wake up it’s a beautiful morning.
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Removing The Hijab: Part 2.


I have written a blog post about removing the hijab which you can read here: Part 1

A few months before I made the decision to wear the hijab, the Islamic Society at my university hosted a lecture about the modesty of women in Islam. I volunteered to help at the event so that I could attend and not feel like an outsider. I felt out of place at Islamic lectures, 85% of attendees wore the hijab and didn’t take me seriously because I chose not to. It was as if they believed that I wasn’t authorised to be a part of Islam. During the lecture, the speaker discussed the way that covering ourselves protected us from the gaze of men. She addressed the un-hijabed women in the room, maintaining eye contact to signify that these words were directed at us, victimising us. She told us that we were disappointing God.
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Just Listen.


A guy parked his car directly outside of my window, his music blaring as loud as the speakers would permit. I felt the vibration of the rhythm against my desk. I was annoyed; I could still hear the music, even through my headphones.

I deliberated getting up to close my window but decided that he would soon drive away. 
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