Yet, beyond the hospital's embrace, I encountered a jarring contrast — a world where compassion intertwined with insensitivity. Friends and family rallied around me, offering the strength to carry out the burial and janazah [funeral prayer] for my precious Asiya Meriam. Their presence during the janazah and the tender care they provided were a lifeline, but the aftermath of my daughter's passing revealed a disparity within my community. Opinions and judgments echoed, casting a shadow on my grief.
Read MoreThe ramifications of being sexually abused, and particularly by a religious leader, skewed my sense of morality. He was supposed to lead by example to teach me about my beloved faith. He was supposed to protect me. Neither of those things happened, and I’m still undoing the trauma and repression.
Read MoreThe same late-capitalist world that has commodified the language of self-care encourages us to isolate ourselves, to retreat from each other. What if, instead, we took care of ourselves in order to seek camaraderie and companionship with others?
Read MoreIn the fall of 2016, I broke my silence as a survivor of sexual violence. Nearly everyone I knew was shocked. I felt free. That was, until community members began calling my parents to tell them about my unwelcome declaration. It was taboo. Nobody wanted to talk about sexual violence. What kind of nice, God-fearing girl would ever talk about *gasp* SEX? (Shhh, you can’t say that out loud, Asma!)
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