I look like an extremely professional fashionable woman in an Abaya. It probably took me AGES to look this professional right?image

WRONG. I’m actually wearing my onesie underneath it and you will NEVER KNOW MWAHAHAHA


Wanna know another secret? Even though i LOOK like I’m paying attention to whatever nonsense you are saying…..






And I wanted to begin in this manner with Fatima. I got stuck.
I wished to say, ’ Fatima was the daughter of the great Khadija,’ but I sensed this would not fully describe Fatima.
I wished to say, ‘Fatima was the daughter of Muhammad,’ but I sensed this would not fully describe Fatima.
I wished to say, ‘Fatima was the wife of Ali,’ but I sensed this would not fully describe Fatima.
I wished to say, ‘Fatima was the mother of Hassan and Husayn,’ but I sensed this would not fully describe Fatima.
I wished to say, ‘Fatima is the mother of Zaynab,’ but I still sensed this would not fully describe Fatima.
No, these are all true, and none of them is Fatima.

Fatima is Fatima

Fatima is Fatima
By: Dr. Ali Shariati, 1933 - 1977
(via braceletofnoor)

Anonymous asked:

you've seen Omar right? I'm kind of confused about the ending. did amjad lie about getting Nadia pregnant? cos when Nadia said the baby's age Omar got a bit weird. also the letter nadia was reading at the end? was that from Omar

Hey I’m probably really late in replying this (sorry haven’t been doing much Tumblr)


No, I think that Amjad was being manipulated by the Israeli officer all along, he was forced to say those things knowing that they would break Omar’s spirit, and they did because Omar never communicated with Nadia about it either. Omar only figures it out when he sees Nadia’s and Amjad’s kids and realizes how he got played by those bastards. I don’t remember the letter right now but I’m guessing he wrote one to her describing why they didn’t marry each other and his decision to kill the Israeli officer

Today was my last school day. Ever. I have IB exams next month but those are hardly school days. Let that sink in, Momina.

Per tradition, we organized the last flag. There were speeches and songs but there was also a selfie prank on the whole school. (Yes, the head girl ildoctora did say “but first, let me take a selfie” during her speech, the song played for 20 seconds and all 48 of us on stage took selfies). We later blew up dry ice. We did other stuff. But what really got to me were the teachers and their beautiful words recognizing and celebrating all the perks and wonderful awkwardness that makes up the Class of 2014. We were really a special bunch, they all said.

It was only my second year at this school but I can’t even begin to decribe the memories I’ve made and the people I’ve come to know as friends. Today was extremely bittersweet. I didn’t want to write this cliché text post, but I did. I needed the catharsis.

He says: I’m Muslim.
As he brings the double shot of rum to his lips.
I imagine the way it burns as it slides down his throat.
He winces, then smashes the glass against table.
Everyone turns and cheers,
then they go back to their conversations.
He says it again — I swear.
I say: I know.
He looks at me with sad eyes.
Wallahi - he says,
still trying to convince me.
I say: I know.
I watch his eyes turn to glass as he downs another.
I swear I am Muslim - he slurs
I say: I know.
No— he says— you’re judging me, look
and he holds his hands over his ears and he begins to recite.
And I put my hand over his as people begin to stare.
And I say: I know.
And he begins to cry, and his tears look ancient, and his face contorts, and his mouth is open but there is no sound, and his body shudders.
And he tries again and again, never getting past Bismillah.
He keeps on saying “No you don’t understand I am Muslim, I am Muslim, I am Muslim, I am Muslim”
I know, I say.
And he holds the bottle to his mouth and he almost swallows it whole, and he says “marry me Aasiyah, I am a good man, my father is a hafiz of Quran,
it is just this Dunya, it is this world that has killed me”
I know, I say
I know.
Key Ballah, an encounter. (via keywrites)