SEARCH RESULTS

I grew up feeling confused: why don’t I get days off for Eid? Why does my mother wear a hijab? Why do my parents have an accent? Why am I being called a ‘terrorist’? Why do people make fun of the names of my family? Why am I looked at strangely for bringing grape leaves to lunch? Why am I not like my classmates? Why, why, why. Who was I, who did I want to become? I was torn between two different worlds, ideologies, morals, and cultures. How was I expected to feel comfortable in my own skin living in the Western world where people (up for debate) don’t like Muslims, let alone minorities themselves? Growing up, I used to hate the side of me that was Middle Eastern and Muslim. Having grown up in a predominantly white school, being different was something I hated. So, I tried my best to fit in so people wouldn’t think that I wasn’t like them. My parents sacrificed their life to move to this country, and little me couldn’t understand the hardships faced to get here. My life was split during childhood: I spent my weekends going to Arabic Saturday school, my weekdays in regular school, my school year in America, and my summers in Syria. Being first-gen is just like being Hannah Montana, living a double life where not many people really know both sides of you. “You look white” “My parents thought you were white” “You don’t eat pork!?” “What did you get for Christmas?” “Do you speak Islam at home?” “What are you giving up for Lent?” The list goes on, but my response was always blank. What was I supposed to say? I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed that my family came from a different country, that my extended family didn’t even know English, that I didn’t celebrate Christmas, nor Easter, and that I wasn’t like the people around me. I was surrounded by people in school who didn’t really know the real me, always masking my identity and pushing my roots and culture to the side for fear of not being accepted. I feared that if I embraced who I was, my peers and classmates would be embarrassed to be friends with me, and I wasn’t able to fully accept that until my 20s. My friends in school were predominantly white, while I had family friends at home. I want to preface by saying I don’t blame anyone I grew up with for the way I felt; how were they supposed to know when I shut down that part of me to them? Navigating school was difficult. I was always afraid people would see my mother with her hijab and find out who I was. Notice how I say “who I was,” because why did Western culture make me believe that I wasn’t worthy the same way others were? Getting into high school, going to a Catholic school as an Arab-American Muslim was one hell of an experience. To be honest, I don’t even know if people knew I was Muslim because I did a great job at hiding it. For those who did, I got the occasional “terrorist” comment from immature boys in my class and others who probably didn’t know what Islam was. The beauty from that experience was meeting the first non-Arab person I genuinely felt like I could be my full, authentic self around, my best friend Ben. Ben was a friend that allowed me to see myself for who I am in all my flaws, insecurities, and struggles. Ben was the friend who was curious about all parts of me, fasting with me during Ramadan, and ears open to listen to anything I felt. I never felt judged, never felt like he would leave me if he knew where I came from or what I believed in; I hadn’t felt this kind of security in a relationship with someone who didn’t necessarily share the same background. He loved me for me, and if it wasn’t for Ben, I am not sure I’d start to gain the confidence to embrace all parts of me. Although grateful for friendships like those with Ben, I faced struggles in my relationships with quite a few of my peers. It wasn’t what they did that made me feel that way; it was a voice in my head that told me “they won’t like that other part of you,” which in some cases, was true. I faced people who would make fun of my background, crack jokes, and I’d laugh with them. I was scared... who I was was a laughing matter. Why did I believe that to be? I get frustrated knowing I enabled the behavior around me because I never stood up for myself and said something to stop it. College was the biggest culture shock for me and a time where I felt like I truly lost a part of who I was: my core values, beliefs, morals, and identity. I walked into a scene of partying, relationships, sororities, frats, all of it, which I was never told about before. I didn’t have parents that went to university in the States, and that was a silent struggle for me mostly all of college. The first two years were a whirlwind of figuring out how the system works; navigating friendships, school clubs, relationships, education, social circles was all really tough to balance. Social life was one of the most difficult aspects for me; I wanted to go out and party like the people around me, but at the same time, I really didn’t. I wanted to do the things they were doing, but at the same time, I didn’t. I think a hard disconnect between my peers in college and me is that none of this was the norm for me; I am Muslim, so I lost myself. I was silently disappointing myself and my family just to fit into something that wasn’t me; it was like a desperation for the people around me to think I am “cool,” that I “can hang.” I did things in college that I have really reflected about my post-grad life that I regret, that I have to take full responsibility for, that I have to live with. Reading this you might not think this is a big deal, “it’s college,” they say. But, it is a big deal for me; I became a person that I disliked, just for the approval of others. I began involving myself a lot in my studies, my extracurriculars, and began to stray away from the scene. For others, I was “doing too much,” for me, I was escaping something I didn’t want to be a part of. This cycle was exhausting; why couldn’t I just hold my morals and be vocal to those around me? I still don’t have an answer to that, but I do know as I approached my final year it began to get better. I am so appreciative of the people I met in college; everyone I met taught me a lesson that I carry into the person I want to become today. My senior year I met classmates that impacted me deeply in beginning to love and embrace my cultural identity and background. People who made me want to love these parts of myself because they had admired them themselves, just like Ben. People who let me open up about these struggles and listened to me, fully listened to what I had to say, and for that, I am grateful. I understand those around me might not fully understand the depth of my struggles, and I don’t blame them for that which was something very difficult for me to accept. As I navigate my life now, I appreciate the experiences I've had because I believe they are shaping me into the person I want to be. I am now more connected to my culture, family friends at home, religion, and self than ever before. I wish the past me could see the beauty of who I am and where I come from. Who cares if somebody doesn’t want to be friends with me, who cares if they make fun of my background—I am unapologetically me, proudly a First Generation Arab-American Muslim. If you've taken the time to read this, thank you. I know it might come as a shock to those close to me; this is a very vulnerable subject for me, and I am glad I have the confidence to express my thoughts, "why not" now. I appreciate you all, thank you.

In the heart of Washington, D.C., a 22-year-old found herself scared, but definitely more excited. As she was about to embark on a journey – the journey of living completely alone. Yes, I was that 22-year-old and I hope my story inspires you. Self Discovery The move to Washington, D.C., marked a pivotal shift in my life. Relying on public transportation, not being 10 minutes from my family, being in an unfamiliar city 589.9 miles from home was extremely daunting. The quaint city felt both chaotic and captivating, mirroring my internal conflict within. As the silence surrounded me at night, I confronted my own thoughts and insecurities. I had no idea how little I knew myself prior to moving to Washington, D.C. The solitude that once seemed like a burden evolved into a system for gaining a deeper understanding of myself, or self-discovery if you will. “Gaining a deeper understanding of ourselves helps us to be responsible — meaning we can respond to life, rather than react,” says Joey Hulin, a meditation teacher based in Cornwall, United Kingdom, and author of the book “Your Spiritual Almanac: A Year of Living Mindfully.” Deeper introspection allows us to make more thoughtful decisions. “It is the difference between being completely consumed by stress, and having the ability to notice when we feel stressed and then course-correct to be more grounded and balanced,” Hulin says. Discovering the Introvert Within? Amid living in a city full of opportunities, I stumbled upon a revelation – I am a bit of an introvert. Do not get me wrong I really love being around people, but after a while I get drained. I never realized that this was even a possibility because I am a loud individual, but it is true. Introversion, in basic terms, means that you tend to feel drained by too much social interaction and need to take time for yourself to restore your energy. I now recognize that I need to take time for self care. I understand my energy dynamic more too. It is weird how I used to avoid being alone, & I used to hate it. Living alone is a journey of embracing the silence, understanding your energy dynamic, and discovering solace within. Focusing on Goals With solitude came the freedom to focus on my goals without the distractions that led me off my path. The energy that was once used to seek validation was now channeled into personal growth. I explored the city on my terms, indulging in my passions without the need for external approval. I personally focus on working out, reading, cooking (https://www.mealime.com/) I found this app in college and it is AMAZING!, eating healthier, exploring,  learning and RELAXING. James Clear states in Atomic Habits “If you get one percent better each day for one year, you’ll end up thirty-seven times better by the time you’re done” As the weeks turned into months, I found joy being in my own presence. Solitude became my friend. Quiet evenings can be spent reading an inspiring book, writing (blogging), working out, calling my family, binge watching a TV series, unburdened by the expectations of others. In embracing solitude, I found not loneliness but a profound connection with myself. Writing My Own Story Washington, D.C.,  is the city of my personal evolution, and what I now call home. Embracing solitude didn't mean rejecting connections; it meant nurturing a deeper connection with myself. I am in control of my destiny, and no longer believe it is defined by the presence or absence of others. In the heart of solitude, I found the strength to shape my own narrative and live life on my terms. Which is amazing. “Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.” - Lao Tzu “Knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is Enlightenment.” - Lao Tzu The Power of Welcoming Solitude My journey of living alone in Washington, D.C., was a testament to the transformative power of welcoming solitude. It's a journey of vulnerability, consistency, perseverance, and the beauty of self-discovery. Through this experience, I found more of myself, I learned to love myself. I learned to do what I want to do on my time. I learned to say no when I do not want to do something. The most important thing I have learned is that I am finally creating a life that aligns with my true self. May this story inspire you to embrace solitude as a path to self-discovery, and may you find the unexpected joys that lie within the silence. I have never been happier in my life, I miss my family so much of course. It just makes spending time with them more valuable. Moving away made me appreciate all aspects of my life in a more intense way. The Benefits of living alone References: https://psychcentral.com/health/ways-to-get-to-know-yourself-better#why-it-matters https://jamesclear.com/continuous-improvement https://www.healthline.com/health/anxiety/introvert-vs-social-anxiety#a-socially-anxious-introvert

A commonality between the people we asked about change was the ability to grow. Change is so beautiful because it promotes growth, and growth means that you are closer to reaching your potential.  We can not deny change, we can only adapt to change. While we asked the question "Why do you think change is good", a few noted that change isn't necessarily "good" in the scope of things; That being said, it's important to recognize change is not always wanted/nor is it easy, but often the hardest changes we face we have no choice but to accept them. We start changing the second we take our first breath in this world as innocent beginnings. Change isn't a choice; it's in our DNA, molding us, making us resilient, defining who we are. It's not just a part of life; it's life itself—a continuous journey of adaptation. In embracing change, we uncover our true potential, revealing the beautiful masterpiece of our ever-evolving selves. We emphasized the "beauty" of change meaning what was ugly can blossom into something beautiful like a butterfly breaking out of its' cocoon. So why not say yes to that job offer, why not move out of your hometown, why not grow, why not break a habit, why not change?