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Posts tagged "sara yasin"

Today in shitty American media coverage, we have a brilliant take-down of how said media has reacted to the sign language interpreter fiasco in Mandela’s memorial. Hint: Notice how we never once see the reactions and thoughts of the deaf community in any of the commentary they present.

Sara Yasin, you are officially my hero. Dear. God.

Muslims today are young, sexually and politically frustrated. This isn’t the strapline of a new reality show, but the conclusions of stereotype-laden analysis from the Daily Beast.

Perhaps, what I really want is to understand the love and fervor that the concept of home inspires in my parents…What I want is something I cannot get back through land or legislation. I want the memories owed to me.

A beautiful piece written by my best friend, describing a part of life as a Palestinian post-Nakba, in a world that fails to remember the forced diaspora in the 1st place.

The internet can be a scary place. In my early days of using the web, I passed my angry pubescent days innocently trolling chat rooms powered by America Online, mostly to harass fans of shopping mall punk Avril Lavigne.

I spent my free time accosting what I assumed were fellow misguided teenagers, even though my own music library was filled with the questionable sounds of Linkin Park, Kittie, and Papa Roach. Whilst undoubtedly irritating, my joy in prank calling restaurants and angering people online was mostly a benign past time. Had I been a teenager in Arizona today, my antics could have landed me with a criminal record before I even reached high school. 

The Arab Spring shattered everything that I thought I knew about the Arab world. As unrest broke out in the region, and regimes fell, I realised how little I knew. As a Palestinian-American, it has been routine to reference my heritage, from explaining why I do not look like Princess Jasmine, or distancing myself from suicide bombers. The politics of the land of my parents always frustrated me, and I suppose what I understood was mostly gleaned from exhausted conversations overheard in our home or headlines.

To my shock, even though I proved to know very little about what caused the Arab Spring, many seemed to automatically think that the first half of my hyphenated identity automatically made me an authority on the region. While I feel tied to and interested in the struggle for change across the Middle East and North Africa, this is not my Arab Spring.


Note: Please do not place pocket mahram in a haraam location, especially when batteries are in the device. This is to avoid forbidden sensations.

2001: Driver’s Education on a warm spring day. Despite years of riding in cars, I felt the tremors of Western decadence between my legs once I sat behind the wheel. My hijab felt a little looser, and I was overwhelmed with so many haraam thoughts that I could not hear a word that my driving instructor was saying.  My brush with life behind the wheel showed me a darker element to driving. Professor Kamal Al-Subhi recently warned against lifting the ban on women driving in Saudi Arabia, as women driving directly correlates with the moral decline of society. I would have to agree with him; the moment that the key to the car rested in my own hand, I did not think of errands or going to school, but of unlocking a world of nightclubs, sin, in a station wagon that was most certainly steered by the devil.  It made me want to wear “a pair of pants so tight that [my] innermost organs were discernible.”** But thanks to Al-Subhi, I resolve to never drive again.

** This part? Not making it up.  It’s a direct quote from Al-Subhi himself.


Students at Bahrain Polytechnic are being silenced and expelled for social media posts. Sara Yasin reports