By MG StaffThe “Pandemic Paralysis” series is one in which the author will be exploring the effects of social distancing during the pandemic for those suffering from mental health challenges, and how the pandemic has exacerbated these challenges. Says the author, “I think many women can relate to how much more they are all of a sudden…
By MG StaffDolkis, ghajaras, yellow and pink dust in the air, Laughter of mothers and aunts, cousins and nieces. A glimpse of happiness, Turns to sudden fears of the unknown. Decorated eyes looking up in desperation, The green glitter is dim but still shines. Torn and beaten with age, you can still make out…
By MG Staffhas the earth always revolved around the sun has the sun ever revolved around the earth i guess what i am asking is, can it? take a girl, paint her brown, and let her soak it in– eyelids, to fingertips, to the soles of her feet Permanence this brown don’t wash out with soap and…
By MG StaffWhen I left him, when I finally left that life, That was when I stopped wearing my watch, My rings, My diamonds. I’d taken nothing, I’d left it all behind. I felt bare without it all Until I realised they’d been shackles. Someday, I might still wear a watch. Rings. Diamonds. But I’ll never let…
By It was never about the camera or the power its lens claimed to transmit. It was always about our mothers Black and Muslim and alive and how you zoomed out so far away from her. Convinced she did not exist, you projected your ignorance through the aperture of this lie. At first,…
By Sharia AjmalOur religion is purely based on understanding, Our knowledge should be constantly expanding. Let’s use our aql once in a while, Read the books that have been compiled. The first verse revealed from the Quran was “read,” Unfortunately, to this, people pay no heed. The Prophet (peace be upon him) always told us to learn,…
By When I said immigrant, I meant illegal immigrant. I meant illegal alien. I meant alien. I meant not human.
By aishasalehFeminism is light coming to confront the darkness. It is a coming of change and a warning to those who are not willing to let this change build a new world. Feminism is art and action, history and future. Feminism is present. A gift built to new heights with the fire of…
By Rabea AliTake the Gaza Strip, allow it to be your canvas, Tilt the canvas a little away, from the sun, Strip naked, the little stick figures, So you can give them something to mourn and cry for. Splash a little bit of determination on them, Get a little cold-blood in the process, Wear a thin layer…
By Naaz ModanThese are my people We are white and brown and yellow and red And every shade of skin, every kind of person, your eyes claim to “know.” We are the ones with cloth on our heads that you call oppression and we call liberty; We are the ones with beautiful voices –like soft hands gliding…
By Sajida HydoubMuslims have been taking the spoken word poetry community by a storm. From politics to religion to love, Muslim youth have been creating a name for themselves with their powerful performances that seek to shed light on society’s ills and beauties. A young brother named Shahroz decided to take a stand against every girl and…
By Guest Bloggera minute i learned to make chai before i learned to make sentences thats why i write in poetry so i don’t have to write in sentences eyes shy check scarf on check but hands still shake as i hand over the rickety tea cup to the mustached man, gaps in between his teeth pouring…
By Guest BloggerTrigger warning: abuse. This is a poem I wrote about a year ago about my observations in my own South Asian/Mauritian Muslim community, about how domestic violence remains a taboo subject — something people and even (or maybe especially) religious leaders remain uneducated about and quick to think can be solved by mere patience/sabr/prayers from…
By Laila AlawaI always felt as though my life, my being, my very self were forevermore saddled with the very expectations of generations before me, dusty individuals, their fervent whispers carrying, moving, traveling, across centuries of near-still air, air rippled only with the occasional revolution, scented softly with rosewater and hot Arabic coffee, that their unfulfilled wishes,…
By AmaniI heard that it was generations through the family that taught us how to hold our fist to the sky and to hear the wind attempt to howl through our fingers. Baba told me that his baba taught him that this fist that we hold high is Falasteen and every bit of air that seeps…
