Why I Write
I can only imagine the stories that led to my father’s immigration to the United States, and I can only imagine the circumstances that led to an Egypt he wanted to leave. He applied for university programs in the west at night by the light of a kerosene lamp, he told me. I can only imagine, of course, because I was an Egyptian kid, born in a lower class neighborhood in California in the 80s, my curls swinging under the pacific sun that told me I was so far from home. Against the odds, I traveled the world, worked for some world class companies, and befriended a lot of interesting people, before settling in Mexico.
I married my Venezuelan-Italian husband, who’s father is an Italian immigrant to Venezuela. He’s an immigrant to Mexico as well. You can imagine the discussions we have in our home. The choice to see our similarities instead of our differences isn’t easy, but it is worthwhile.
This is why I write. I write because I have to.
The world is lacking artists, those brave people who hold up a mirror to society. The pen has been a weapon many times in history at the hand of the writer. I write because I am one of them.
I write because I am one of them. Those people. The people history has called the losers. We are the brown people. The indigenous people. The people who worship God using a name you find funny. It’s ironic that the time has come that the world needs us. We are the losers. And it’s time for the losers to hold up the mirror.
I write because I am afforded the privilege of standing here—at the crossroads of Arab, Muslim, Egyptian, American, Californian, Middle Eastern, African, Mediterranean, Autistic, immigrant, beauty girlie, tech worker, lower class, white collar professional. I am many things, to many people. But to me, I know I am only one thing—me. Uniquely me. I have a unique point of view. Again, to see our similarities instead of our differences isn’t easy. But I have the life experiences to know it’s worth it. This is what I want to share.
I write because I am American. In all of the loaded meanings of the word. I have traversed many different American spaces given my privilege as a non-visibly Muslim, light woman of color. That means I automatically have more privilege than someone who’s not, even if they are more talented. I write because I owe it to people—all of my people, whoever that may be, including Americans. I write because Americans are suffering. They long for the humanity that was lost when their nation was founded upon the backs of enslaved individuals from Africa, that was lost as the land wept for the indigenous people that knew it so well. They don’t even know what this thing they are looking—humanity—really looks like. Because it doesn’t look like anything. It is a quality of feeling, not an aesthetic. I write because I believe they are looking for what I have to say.
I am here to help bring us together. I want to create a more kind, compassionate world. One with emotions, depth, love, freedom to be, equality, acknowledgement, and accountability. I write because I think we’re all in the process of becoming something, together, and the world we create is relying on the actions we take now. So, I write.
I write to create a better world.