The mirror,

The glass window that points out everything in its view-

The wrinkles, the stretch marks, cellulite, freckles, acne scars, the most beautiful pair of eyes,

The imperfections and the perfections that we fail to see

The qualities that we fail to realize unless we have a digital camera in front of our faces

But we use the mirror to strike a pose and share our bodies with the world,

The mirror points out everything especially at our most vulnerable moments

But again, when was the last time we looked at a mirror and appreciated it for showing us our true selves

We can like what we see in the mirror because the mirror doesn’t hesitate to show us what it likes about us too

The reflection of light and love when we need an ounce of reassurance or a little confidence booster

The one that’s always there when we’re practicing for a big presentation the next day or trying to adjust our hair and our bow ties for a special occasion,

The one that’s there when we say damn I look good,

The mirror says damn right you do!

Yet they’re the ones that get punched and shattered for revealing who we are and the hate they get when we don’t appreciate our truth

Oh how id love to put those pieces back together with a hug

If mirrors could talk I’d say

Mirror mirror on the wall,

You are the fairest of them all <3

The sun goes back home

Back to its raging domain

Shadowy mind state

Light does not reach this dark space

This space that I call my own

I am small.

But my mind grew in power.

I am stubborn.

But my actions speak louder than words.

I am girl.

I am the knight in shining armour.

I am the speak up for yourself.

I’m every woman.

Why does being a woman mean you can’t defend yourself?

Why does being a woman mean you need saving?

Princesses don’t need to get saved in the end by a man in armour.

I am power.

Last year of 2020 the phrase Black Lives Matter was a major topic throughout society. It made a bigger impact through social media when the brutal murder of George Floyd by a police officer. Floyd was kneeled on the neck and unfortunately died from the suffocation of lack of oxygen. This also brought up many previous deaths of black lives that were taken by either the police force or people with racially motivated violence against black people such as Breonna Taylor a woman who died in 2018 was shot in her home in her bed while she was asleep; Ahmaud Arbery a man who died in 2020 jogging through the neighborhood of near Brunswick in Glynn County, Georgia and encountered two white men Gregory and Travis McMichael who followed Arbery with two guns and fatally shot him. Lastly Elijah McClain a man who was died in 2019 after the police restrained him with a chokehold after a 911 call of someone “looking sketchy”. This political issue has made a dramatic change in society and has damaged the trust, fear, and hate in the criminal justice system. Now and days people of color fear live in fear that they might be the next person their family and friends will see next on the news. The Black Lives Matter movement has touched the hearts of many, where celebrities would donate money to families who lost their loved ones and people making songs that would speak on the topic. Such 13-year-old Keedron Bryant created the song “I Just Wanna Live”, an emotional expression of how hard it is for Black people in America to live without fear of brutality. Like many, other people have shown their support to express their emotions and fight against black violence. Sadly, we live in a world especially in the United States the land of the “free” and “equality” can be killed and or brutalized based on the color of one’s skin but not the actions they make.

When I was eleven years old, my parents divorced. This came as a shock to me, and understandably so, given the fact that I don’t have a single memory of my mother and my father fighting to this day. But I do remember the totaled cars, and my missing wallets. Silverware that has been in the family for generations goes missing while broken pens and straws take it’s place. This all went on under my nose for years. But I didn’t know what it was or what it meant.  When my mother came home one day in June of 2013 and told me that my father wasn’t going to be in my life, I somehow knew. I knew that he was an addict, and I don’t know how I knew, but my mother told me that my father wasn’t coming home, I asked her if it was the pills. And she cried more.

That was the day that I recognized that I could not have a childhood like my peers. I immediately couldn’t relate to them, and not in a ignorant or prudish way, because I wanted to relate to them, but the bag was pulled over my head and I was taken off somewhere deep behind my eyes. From that day on, I lost friends, gained an incredible amount of weight, isolated myself from everyone around me, and suffered in a general sense. I had therapists that would send me outside for the session to talk to my mother instead of me, and one that would fall asleep every minute like clockwork. And then, after all of that for five years, my father relapsed after being clean for nine months and passed away twenty days before my sixteenth birthday.

Fast forward a year or two and one short stint in a mental hospital, my best friend showed me a book, saying it would help me. I went to a run down bookstore in Portland and found it. The Stranger by Albert Camus. I had just started to read philosophy as a coping mechanism which I regret to this day for the misconceptions it led me to, and I had a sense of this back then that I ignored, but my friend assured me that this was not one of those books.

I read existentialist writers for a long time and learned a lot from what I read, but I used the “nothing matters” part of their idea’s and not the “so have fun with it” part that is a necessity when taking things like that in. Soon after reading the stranger, though, I realized a lot of the ways I was suppressing myself and it gave me a good perspective on how miserable it would be if I let myself believe the notion that nothing matters and nothing else. Now this is where I believe society could benefit. Personally, I think that the largest obstacle todays generation has to overcome is the paralyzing anxiety – paralyzing in the most general way possible – that keeps everyone isolated in their own heads. I see so many people walking around that are prisoners to themselves. Some people make it out, and some people don’t, but I really want to believe that if there was a solid and coherent attempt at having the teachings of many great existentialists brought to the people, a large majority of people would be able to move on from the one thing that truly keeps us from moving forward.

I have always done my best to keep up with current events, particularly domestic issues. It is not always easy to concentrate on issues not taking place in the US as the distance to other counties, especially overseas adds a layer of disconnect. That being said I make every attempt to take time to make myself aware of what is going on in countries around us. 

Although this is true, the conflict between Isreal and Palestine which had a strong social media presence sparking the hashtag free Palestine (#freepalestine) drew in much of my attention. Of course, I was aware of the issues in this region as it is unfortunately been an active conflict for decades. However, with the #freepalestine movement on Instagram and Twitter, as well as, other social media platforms, this really opened my eyes to how truly severe the situation is and has been.

Many of my friends including myself have posted speaking out against the heinous crimes committed by Isreal. While my friends and I were trying to spread awareness and understanding, I started to notice a lot of people that I followed, who I grew up with — living in a community with many Jewish residents– posting opposing and offensive messages. I got into many arguments with people who did not seem to understand or want to understand any perspective other than their own. Seeing that many people I had known for years and had grown up with were so ignorant and blind to this concerned me, I was just doing my best to help spread awareness as much as I could.

This particularly struck a chord with me because my mother and her family were forced to flee their country at a young age due to similar circumstances. Therefore, my interactions with others became personal which made me further feel that I need to speak up and educate myself along with others in order to try and help myself and others connect to and acknowledge the true atrocities that are taking place around us.

The first time I learned about abortion was in spring of seventh grade. All I remember is my heart plunging down into my stomach as an animation of a pea-sized fetus flashed on my phone screen. My eyes followed the menacing doctor’s vacuum-like equipment as it reached into a silhouette of a woman’s uterus and suctioned out an underdeveloped baby. As a sympathetic middle school student, who’d only recently begun exploring the ideas surrounding feminism, women’s rights, and sexism, all I could think about was how traumatic and depressing an abortion must be. My heart ached for the baby, who’s painful screams I imagined disappearing into the suction of a vacuum hose. 

Although I was just starting to think critically for myself, questioning life, religion, and the childhood beliefs I’d easily accepted growing up, I was still that impressionable young girl seeking validation and approval from the older people in my life, whether it be my parents or my loveable Earth Science teacher, Ms.Choudhery. At the time, I didn’t understand, but when I look back, it’s quite obvious that Ms.Choudhery strongly persuaded the entire class’s opinion on abortion, whether that was her intention or not. When it came time to actually do a socratic seminar on the topic, not even one person was in support of abortion. We were all just awkwardly agreeing with each other that abortion was immoral, speaking up not in response to another person, but just to get those participation points. I remember passionately arguing that even if a fetus doesn’t feel pain, it’s still a potential life, who’s basic human right to live has been taken away. 

It was only until I reached high school, that my position on abortion drastically changed. I was very active on instagram and youtube, where social justice posts/videos about racism, sexism, islamophobia, and homophobia would circulate on my feeds. At one point, during Donald Trump’s chaotic campaign and presidency, abortion was a hot topic, and I kept finding recommended articles and informative posters on the issue, mostly from female activists. Some of these women had considered or gone through abortion themselves, and some were simply big believers in the rights to their own body. As I read through their first hand experiences, I felt my heart ache once again, this time, for the teenage girls who’d fallen pregnant by accident, the sexual assault victims who’s bodies were violated, and the torn mothers who had to choose between their baby’s life or their own. I felt my heart ache for the poor girls who couldn’t deal with their grief in peace due to pro-lifers who harassed them as they left Planned Parenthood abortion clinics. And I felt empowered by the women who simply decided they did not want or need children, and thus, didn’t have to, despite society’s pressure to do so. As a Muslim woman, I decided that although I probably wouldn’t have an abortion, I’d never pressure another woman to do the same. Now, I’m unapologetically and confidently pro-choice.

 I choose to be silent. As I type, the only noise I hear is the sound of me typing the following and the many words and thoughts my head produces. I can sit hear and type why I’m silent but it’s late and when it’s late I tend to go with what I really think. Throughout my life I have read many books but not one woke me up from my slumber but rather create it. I see the many hashtags. I feel the roar as it echos. But I choose to stay silent. The words you summon can be an enemy. Your words can leave an impact but at what cost is what I think sometimes. I choose to be silent. I would rather write and die with what I write. I chose to hide behind your shadow as the arrows come by. I am my own monster. I choose to be silent. I choose to follow you as I’m scared to walk a path that was paved for me. I choose to walk alone and talk to my shadow when the sky has plans for me. I choose to stay away from the media as my head takes everything depressing and flips it on to me so I can have a bad day. I choose to be silent. Through the eyes of other I choose to be ignorant. Through the eyes of other I choose to be selfish. Through the eyes of others I am the problem. Through the eyes of others I am a madman that wants to watch the world burn. I choose to be silent. The Thoughts I have is how I perceive reality and maybe I’m trying to save everyone from them. Maybe I’m scared of how reality perceives me. Maybe I’m scared of how god perceives me. If there is one. Now I’m scared how reality perceives me after that comment. This is why I chose to be silent. To some I think irrational but my mind… somehow my mind makes the most irrational things be rational. I choose to be silent. Does it make me a bad guy? I don’ t know. I choose to be silent.