One day, I'd like to share this blog with my daughter. This is the means through which she will get to know her mother, who she was, what she did, what she cared about. I write about the things I want her to know, in case I am not there to tell her myself. I write to tell her what I feel, in case I am not there to show her. I write, to keep the realities of my lived experience alive for her, so that she will learn. I write, maybe too harshly, or plainly but it is how I strive to be a parent to my Muslim daughter. My dream is that one day, she will get to know her mother through this blog. Dear my baby girl: I worry. I worried while you were still in my belly. I worried that you might not be getting enough vitamins, or that I had started taking the fish oil supplements too late, or that I had drank one too many cups of chai. I worried when I took Amtrak to DC too many times for work, or took a plan to Florida or the Bahamas that something might happen en route (trains get derai
I began writing as an outlet for narcissism but found that blogging was more about the people in my world than about me. I am at my core a writer and educator with interests in community- building, social justice, markets, philanthropy, and academia. I am forging a path with your Dad, who I got to know mostly through the comments section of this blog. This is my story, and I'm happy to share it with you, my daughter.