|'nuff said, no?|
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
|Seriously, tho ...|
Sunday, September 28, 2014
I love short films and just got reminded of this one. Seriously one of the most beautiful, most haunting, most moving short film ever produced. It gets you thinking deep stuff, especially our own roles as witnesses to crimes (specifically in conflict, to whomever relevant - journalists, maybe?), on photojournalism, journalist ethics, and so on.
"We've begun to raise our daughters more like sons ... but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters," says Gloria Steinem. And I agree. Many people, especially Pukhtuns, have a hard time understanding this quote. So let me explain.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
YOU GUYS!!! I'm going to be singing again at our Middle Eastern ensemble this semester again, inshaAllah!! BIG, BIG GRINS!! hamdallah.
Remember last semester, I wrote about how I was singing a couple of Pashto songs for our ensemble? Do recall that I'm no singer at all, and I don't claim to be one - but I do love singing. I also think of myself as a shy person generally, and I hate being the center of attention, but there's something about holding a mic, speaking and singing into it a song that's close to your heart because it's all about female empowerment, women's rights, female education, female leadership, the celebration of girls and daughters and girlhood. That's also originally sung by your favorite female Pashto singer and picturized by someone you love, respect, and look up to (Samar Minallah). And also a song that the ensemble finds a lot of fun to play and listen to, one that everyone else just LOVES because of how happy-happy it is and how beautifully it's composed.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Okay ... kindly take the next 4 minutes and 49 seconds and listen to this song and feel hopeful about the world again. So much love!! It's so beautiful! It's in Dari, but English subs are there as well, so follow along to have your heart melt. This guy is a truly beautiful person. May God reward him for his work for Afghanistan and his people.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
As I've mentioned previously, I'm TA'ing a class on Black History called The Black Power Movement. It's one of the most powerful, most important classes I've ever sat in on or taken in my life. It's huge (over 500 students, 6 TAs), and it's nothing like a typical history class, according to students I've talked to. I type my notes, and one of these days, I'm going to sift through them and share on this blog some of what I think needs to be heard and read more widely. Our section on Malcolm X is one of those things - everyone, esp white people, need to know about him through the various (4 main) phases he went through; they need to understand and appreciate the context of Malcolm X's view of the white man is the devil, but they also need to know that Malcolm X changed his view after his pilgrimage to Mecca. I'm not writing this just because I'm a Muslim, and Malcolm X was a Muslim (in fact, for political reasons and my utter hatred for Saudi's politics, I've "controversial" views on Hajj; we'll talk about that some other time, ai), but I'm writing this because, frankly, even the teacher hasn't brought this up in class yet, and we've been talking about Malcolm X for the last couple of lectures. One of the things I have GOT to work on like right now is pointing out such flaws - so while I didn't end up saying this out loud in class (I will on Tuesday in the next lecture, inshaAllah), I did ask the teacher after class if he is going to cover that because I think that's an important phase of Malcolm X's life.
But here's what happened.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Because this article was awesome (I wasn't convinced by her argument, but it's still useful, relevant, and important).
"Can There be a Feminist Ethnography?" by Judith Stacey
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Saturday, September 13, 2014
I promise there's a poem at the end of this post somewhere. It's my latest creation, and I'm pleased with it, so. *insert heart icon*
And it's been raining here the last few days - such a blessing to wake up to and go to sleep to, alhamdulillah! It makes my heart smile.
Now the poem I promised ...
What Happens to a Longing Unfulfilled?
One of the most important things to know about me is that I LOVE rain. I'm crazy about rain. I love thunderstorms, I love threatening skies, I love rainy weather. People tend to associate this kind of weather with misery (a friend once wrote a poem with the line "The sun was shining outside, but it was raining in my heart" - I didn't get it), but for me, nothing could be more romantic, more happier, more peaceful. Rain is beautiful. Rain is peace. Rain is happiness. I've happily passed this love on to Kashmala so that whenever I'm home when it's raining, Kashmala and I walk out without an umbrella (yeah, about that: I don't do umbrellas, you see) and dance! Yes, we dance in the rain, and it feels so, so wonderful!
And so I've written a couple of poems dedicated to rain. Rainy weather just puts me in that much more romantic a mood! Here's something I wrote a few years ago about why I love rain when I first moved to where I live now and I saw the rain after several months:
Rain truly makes me happy. My heart feels lighter, my mind's at ease, my soul literally feels purified. It's as if the rain is literally washing my tension, problems, whatever else away, cleansing me of all the dilemmas I always find myself in. It's as if my heart is enclosed by the dirt of these petty issues, and the rain washes away this dirt, literally cleaning my heart. And so, when it rains, I'm like, "What? What problems? I have no problems. I was born a happy person, and I'm going to die a happy person." And next thing I know, I'm smiling and everyone walking by smiles back, and I feel even more content with life and everything around me. Really, rain is SO beautiful.
Now the poem I promised ...
What Happens to a Longing Unfulfilled?
Friday, September 12, 2014
Ghani Khan is perhaps my most favorite person in history. He's a fascinating character and certainly one of the most brilliant icons to have lived this earth. His humor makes me crazy, his conversation with God and his love for God overwhelm me (in a beautiful way), and his poetry is just ... no, it kills me. It really, really kills me. When I listen to his poetry, sung mostly through Sardar Ali Takkar, I close my eyes, the world stops momentarily, my heart, too, stops to listen, and I'm no longer the same person afterwards. I call this powerful. He died in 1996, when I was too young to know him and all, but if there's anyone in history who I'd love to see in a dream, it's him. (Well, there's a couple of other interesting/influential figures as well, like Mary Mother of Jesus (peace be on them) and Muhammad (peace be on him), but Ghani kho Ghani dey kana :) Ghani is Ghani. Ghani is from me, and I'm from him. I'm OF him. He was Pukhtun, you see. He's my eternal chalice of hope. He, along with so many other brilliant poets and scholars and legends, is a beautiful reason Pukhtuns have something to claim.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
I love my language, I love Pashto music (generally), I love my people (for the most part), and I'm a generally happy Pukhtana. So the post below isn't an attempt at self-hatred or bashing my beeblez. Honestly, I love you all, I really do. BUT there are some things that I'm embarrassed by, and one of those is some really, really lame, stupid stuff that happens in Pukhto songs/music videos, especially the ones from the Pakistan side of the Durand Line. Most Pukhtuns would be embarrassed by them, really. These include: