No one ever told those boys in the playground that you don’t show a girl you like her by shoving her down and pulling on her pigtails until she gives into you.
Author: Purny Ahmed
Muslims and Hindus are not friends in the Indian Subcontinent. It is not something I understood the depth of until…
Childhood In Year 5 my ammu gave me my first pair of thick, black tights to wear under my school…
When you are born into a house of violence, abuse begins to feel like a birthright. Sacrifice is your rite of passage.
Kay Proudlove is a singer-songwriter raised in Wollongong who imbues her art with a raw vulnerability and humour. Said to…
Thus, I was ten and emancipating myself from God, deciding that if my ‘test’ for this duniya was to love a man who did not deserve it, to show him mercy and forgiveness, then I would simply not sit the test. It was shortly after that I decided that I no longer loved my father.
I also know my mother married young. She became a mother long before she was able to become herself. I worry that everything my mother loves, she loves as a mother.
My brown identity is either on exhibit, a tool to exoticize my conceptual framework, or something pushed to the back of storage for when it isn’t required to be gazed upon.
In pedestalling the objects on white fabrics and casing them away behind glass, Naqvi brings immense value to objects which are a part of her everyday life, creating them into symbols of her and her community’s strength.
That was the first time I had left Bangladesh behind, not quite realising that the feeling of loss I was experiencing was, in fact, homesickness, for a place I wasn’t born to, for a language I have now lost fluency in, and a family I could not grow up with.
