Letters to My Daughter

On a cultural excursion through Harlem, I was pulled into H&M located on 125 West 125th Street, or some such address. My heart, which is stimulated usually by good conversation and excellent company, became excited at the mere sight of clothes and hangers. I had a strange desire to possess pretty clothes. Several months ago, when I felt I needed to occupy my brain with frivolous activity to keep it from thinking about important things, I began shopping alone. Normally, I do not enjoy the company of other females unless there is an explicit understanding that she will satisfy a specific function--e.g. pick out something matching and perfect for me to wear. I have never gone shopping when boys, and would never subject another human being to the mundane activity of matching tops and bottoms. However, shopping when done alone alone, can be productive as well as efficient. But there has been a change. Today, as I walked into H&M , which I agree is the cheapest and of the poorest qua

I discovered the summer before entering college that the tool that most resembled my leadership style was the plunger. A plunger, you see, is used to suck all the crap from the toilet to allow the machine to once again function. A plunger can only be used in extremely dire times, when the routine act of flushing the toilet fails. Thus the plunger is a once a month type of instrument, used for the short term goal of unclogging impurity and evil. With that, I have spent a good many hours cleaning today. I have decided that cleaning after men is probably the worst type of occupation that exists. For the past 6 years, I've share a bathroom with my younger brother. Like all boys, he is dirty. I cannot say that I enjoy cleaning after my brother, or that I would even anticipate such a demeaning task later when I live with my husband inshallah, but there is the challenge of purging a space of evil that I find absolutely exhilarating. Lucky for my brother, I derive a strange inexplicable pl

http://www.alternet.org/mediaculture/24064/ Our desenitization to media images of horror and violence is a reflection of the desensitizing of our souls to the pain and suffering of humankind. This thought was inspired by Hamza Yusuf, though he said it much, much better.

My Psychology and Life (Gerrig and Zimbardo) textbook is perhaps one of my better investments. It is certainly better than the dozens of random books I've purchased over the years from the streets and the internet. My mother recently cleaned by bookshelf in order to find this astrology book I once had (given recent events, she felt compelled to consult the wisdom of astrology). She didn't find the book, but I did uncover titles like Killing Hope , a 600 page history of all military interventions by the US government in the last 100 years; The History of God, which I found on the floor in Stuyvesant High School one day; and Kisses, a book I forgot to return to my second grade ESL class. The psychology textbook, however, I still consult regularly. As I was rereading the text randomly, I came across the concept of generativity : a commitment beyond oneself to family, work, society, or future generations, typically a crucial step in developing in one's 30s and 40s; an orientati

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http://thepolemicist.com/

Last night I went to a going away party for my fake Uncle Amit. He has been on the Executive Board of Directors for SAYA! ( www.saya.org ) for a good six years. His contributions to the Board are mixed. As an investment banker, he has access to a pool of wealthy folk. As a Kashmiri-Indian of sorts, he has shared some of his thoughts on riba, alcohol, outsourcing, religion over the years. He is a character to be sure. But neither his contributions nor his ideas are arguably good... We celebrated him at Opia, on 57th and Lex. But by celebrated, I really mean individuals drank until they were more sociable. I was fascinated by my male colleagues who lucidly explained why they were flirting with the unattractive, and visiably old bartender. They were successful men, a mix of businessmen and lawyers who needed to be holding glasses of alcohol in order to hold conversation. My theory about alcohol as a social lubriant was confirmed and even openly discussed by fellow open-bar mates. When men

Yesterday my family and I drove up to Connecticut for a BBQ. The Auntie claimed that she wanted to have a BBQ in honor of my little brother who has graduated from high school and will be attending RPI this fall. While I do not question her motives, for the most part Saadat and I are reluctant to attend family functions for the simple fact that we are lazy. But when the lunch/dinner party is supposedly centered around us, we cannot refuse. What should take two hours took three hours due to traffic and my father's insistence on observing the speed limit on the I-95. In the evening, the family headed to a scenic beach 20 minutes from New Haven. There my brother and I rolled up our pants to our knees and ran through the water screaming like uncivilized children. Actually, he was chasing me, and I was screaming until my hijab flew off unexpectedly, and landed in the water 10 feet behind me. Opps. My mother recorded the magical moments. I also forgot the scrunchie for my hair, so I truly

Walking along West Fourth with Moumita last Saturday, we stopped in front of those fold up tables full of used/new books. She picked up The Second Sex and then noticed The Incredible Lightness of Being. Our hands reached for the same book as we exclaimed, delighted by the title and author we had both heard much about. I admit she had seen the book before me, and technically, had purchasing rights to the book. She relented however, when I promised to finish it quickly and lend it to her. I added Kundera to my collection. And to my online Blog, a collection of myself online, I've added the following quotes: " What is flirtation? One might say that it is behavior leading another to believe that sexual intimacy is possible, while preventing that possibility from becoming a certainty. In other words, flirting is a promise of sexual intercourse without the guarantee." (142) "The meeting of umbrellas was a test of strength" (135) "...in the realm of possibility,

I posted this song on my Blog several weeks ago but then removed it because it wasn't logically consistent with my entries. It seems more relevant now. Talib Kweli. Yo, we're going to have the word love in many different languages translated all through the track So, whenever you hear the word love Know that, it's going to be in a different language The language of love cannot be translated, yo Love is blind, you just see bright light You up in the club feelin' the night life, lookin' for the right type Blood rushing to your heart making it beat When she swept you off your feet and made it complete You know the plan you had to conquer the world Thinking you Scarface, looking for that perfect girl And now you found her Started with romantic, then got to frantic Then things thats normally small become gigantic Now y'all sinkin like the Titanic here come the panic Bein with you like a habit without you I can't stand it It's tragic when you wonder when you l

Bismillah. For the past four weeks, I have been working as a math college assistant or TA at John Jay College (CUNY) [Thank you Miss Radhika Chugh]. In a short time, as usual, I've become attached. Although most of my students are entering freshmen, there are moments when I feel incredibly old. For example, when I look at math problems like systems of equations, and basic algebra from junior high school, I feel overwhelmed by the educational gap. They are surprised to learn that I am a Philosophy major and not a math major. "But you're so good at math," they insist. I want to say, "No, y'all are just very bad at math." Instead, I say, "I've had a really good foundation, so I just remember everything." There are other times that the age gap is nonexistent because of my late birthday. For example, Ivan Perez, a handsome (Virgo) boy of 19, sits in the back staring at math problems until the answers magically appear before his eyes. He writes i