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Have you been married to your partner for a long time now? Like going on for the past 10-15 years, or maybe two decades or more? Do you still love him? Does he still love you? And perhaps more importantly, do you still like him and vice versa?

Before we go any further –Salaams friends – it's me again. The Muslim woman hiding behind anonymity who brought you the story last May about "

Confessions of a Middle-Age Muslim Woman on What Confidence Looks LIke in One’s 40s

The husband and I are approaching 25 years together, which I recently realized is kind of this critical tipping point where I’ve currently been married as many years as I was single. That piece of information has been blowing my mind of late, and I have trouble sometimes remembering what I was even like before marriage, children, family and this whole post-single life happened to me.

I’ve been witnessing the second generation in my family navigate the whole courtship and marriage thing, with many nieces and nephews having gotten married the past few years or in that process now. Their approaches, their questions, the amount of vetting they and their families are doing as well as what their must-haves and non-negotiables are – it’s all been an incredibly eye-opening experience when juxtaposed with how my husband and I got together (a fairly traditional arrangement) and the things we’ve had to navigate through the past nearly 25 years.

 and get to know yourself before you spouse search.)

It’s so good that many things have changed when it comes to approaching marriage in our Islamic circles. But also, as each generation is wont to point out, some of the old-school things we’ve learned along the way are golden olden for a reason.

(Interested in pursuing a halal courtship? What does that look like? Check out 

About a year ago while she was making the rounds of media interviews after the release of her latest book, “The Light We Carry,” former first Lady Michelle Obama spoke candidly about what it takes to build a long-lasting marriage and the ups and downs that come with it. I attended an event where she was the main feature of a moderated discussion and heard first-hand her views on the commitment it takes to stay with someone for life, and why she fears it’s something younger generations will struggle with.

And so, what I learned that day is that the former first lady Michelle Obama was right when she said that all too often marriage is glamorized and that too many young people quit on marriage over things that are just “part of the commitment” because they are not ready “for the real of marriage.”

She went on to say that of their more than 30 years of marriage together, there were a solid ten when she “couldn’t stand” her husband.“

And honestly, given my ongoing marriage and the marriages I’ve borne witness to around me, that doesn’t shock me.

 several months ago, the former first lady said, “I share these things because marriage is hard [and] it’s incumbent upon us – people who have had successful marriages – to be really honest about the fact that making a commitment to be with someone means you compromise, and compromise ain’t always fun.

“And people think I’m catty by saying this, but it’s like there were 10 years when I couldn’t stand my husband. … Ten years. And guess when it happened? When those kids were little. … Because you know you can be all great individually when you’re just married. You got your life, he’s got his, you come together and it’s all [great]. … Then you have kids. The minute we had kids it was like, ‘Where are you going and how far? And you start measuring, and it’s like, ‘How many diapers did you change? And oh you’re GOLFING? Oh you have time to golf? How you at the gym all the time?’ … That’s when all the measuring starts … “

Nothing Michelle Obama is saying is new material. Talk to anyone who has been married for a long minute – there are years when you love each other, but you may not like each other very much. There are years when it feels like you’re living with a roommate rather than a spouse. 

There are years when it feels like you are two ships passing in the night. There are shifting priorities – years when he and his career, his passions take center stage; and hopefully years when you and your goals are put first, AND there are years when it’s all about the kids – all against the backdrop of creating history and raising a family together (whether kids are part of the picture or not.)

In a hang-out session with some good girlfriends awhile back, I mentioned that it took me a solid ten years – TEN YEARS – to feel like I could voice my opinion and clearly state what I did or did not want, what I would or would not do, what we could or could not manage in regards to my life as part of our married life and our married life together.

And, I don’t put the blame of this on my husband. I had my own cultural and familial baggage and lessons that were ingrained in me by my elders that I brought into our marriage. I often was my own blockage in speaking up with kindness and firmness about what I thought would be best for us and for me. I often found it easier to bend and prioritize the needs of everyone around me without doing the hard work to figure out how I could be part of the equation.

Will the Married Couples of Today Have What it Takes?

The husband and I have grown and nearly grown kids of our own now, and one of the biggest worries I have when it comes to their future life with a partner and the building of their own family is – do they understand what healthy compromise is, and do they understand that while loving one another will, Insha’Allah, always be part of their married lives (should they get married), that liking each other is just as important?

Will they understand that over the course of years together, the two individuals in a marriage will change and become different people, and it is imperative that both spouses work hard to understand how each other is changing and prioritize falling in love with each other through those iterations. Will you love every change in your spouse? Nope. But will you be able to find a way to continue on in your marriage with your partner as he/she evolves and also find ways to appreciate how he/she is evolving?

Will they realize that it’s never fifty-fifty, that one person will have to take a larger supportive role for the other, and those roles will (and should) switch over the course of a lifetime together? Will they learn to see love and respect from each in the different ways these fundamental marital ingredients manifest? Will they center kindness, fight fairly (for the most part) and nurture communication?

(Think you have found the perfect person and want to get married? Here are 

100 questions you and your potential spouse can ask each other

. Heck these are great questions to ask after marriage, too!)

Will they realize that learning to love oneself is as important as loving one’s partner? Will they honor the life they build together by working hard to see the beauty in each other and in that partnership?

There will always be reasons to separate and walk away from each other. That is the truth of this life. There are things that are unacceptable in a marriage. There are marriages where the happiness ends and it’s just better for two people not to stay together, and divorce is our Islamic right.

But, there’s also something very beautiful and unglamorous and solid about staying together, growing old together, nurturing mature love together. I hope that’s what we’ve been modeling to our kids.

I’ve been married now as long as I’ve been single. Marriage is hard. Building a family is hard. There are so many things I would do differently if my husband and I were to start over again. But also, there is a reason, a purpose to this life we’ve built together and all the mistakes, misunderstandings, challenging years, joyous times and steady, dependable love that continues to build our path together.

“If I fell out with [Barack Obama] for 10 [years,] and we had a great 20 years, I’d take those odds anytime,” said the former first lady.

As far as I’m concerned, and you may not agree with me, Michelle Obama is right.

Michelle Obama was Right – Staying Married for the Long Haul is Hard But Can Totally Be Worth It

Practicing gratitude in the face of ongoing genocide in Palestine seems incongruent at this time. None of us are feeling like celebrating anything right now, and even trying to practice gratitude feels like an exercise in privilege when our fellow sisters and brothers are suffering so much, while we live in relative comfort and safety. It seems to be a betrayal to our brethren. 

Most of us as parents cannot even articulate our pain right now, much less figure out how to help our kids come to terms with genocide in Palestine.

is not about ignoring or diminishing the severity of the situation, rather it’s about finding resilience, empathy and connection amidst the darkness. 

Every day we hear people suffering unimaginable losses who start and end their laments with “

” in expressing contentment for what Allah (S) has decreed. Addressing this with children requires careful consideration in order to balance harsh realities with the importance of cultivating empathy and gratitude.

Before introducing the concept of gratitude to children in the context of ongoing genocide in Gaza and Palestine, it is essential that they have a basic understanding of the historical and cultural aspects involved. Tailor the information to their age and maturity level, presenting it in a way that is comprehensible and respectful of their emotional capacity.

If you are Palestinian, you know your history as both witness and teacher to your children to help them understand it. If you’re not Palestinian and have a Palestinian friend or contact who can teach you about the history, DON’T ASK THEM. It is our responsibility to be informed without further adding to the grief of an affected people and its diaspora.

And, if our first line of information is TikTok or our friends, we aren’t making a true effort to be informed. There are several books that can help with our own education on Palestinian history, including for children:

 (Any of her fiction will dehydrate you through tears.)

A Palestinian woman doing tatreez; image source: National Geographic Archives, Imagining the Holy Project, National Geographic December 1926.

 hosted by Diana Buttu and produced by the 

 produced by The Telegraph (episodes try to be balanced but fall short)

 produced by Canadians for Justice and Peace in the Middle East

 hosted by Yahav Erev (a pro-Palestinian Israeli)

We’ve asked some of the people listed above to come on as guests for our upcoming Mommying While Muslim December series: All About Palestine, and all episodes will be related to what has been and is happening there. We don’t know who to follow on TikTok because we (Zaiba and myself) aren’t on there that much. But if you know some good sources of information, let us know at 

, and we will reach out to those accounts for the series as well.

 that can be helpful for kids of all ages to learn about Palestine, the resistance movement, and the current genocide that is happening in Gaza.)

Palestine, Tulkarem district in 1948.; a group of around 1,000 people, including many mothers and children, forced to flee their homes during the first Israeli invasion. (File photo: ICRC)

It’s important that we help children understand the pain and suffering experienced by others, acknowledging that it is okay to feel sadness, anger and confusion about such injustice. Share the following hadith with your kids:

Encourage open conversations, answering their questions with honesty while being mindful of their emotional well-being. If you have a child with high anxiety or sensory issues, they should not listen to or watch the images out of Palestine. In fact, most of the graphic ones should not be shown at all to young children, and only after discussion with older children.

Young children can color or write cards of support to the people of Gaza and you can set these aside for when materials can get there. Remember to send them when the time for it comes. You could also digitally share these cards of support on social media. Or they can certainly pass them out now to friends and family who are Palestinian. Activists in the street who are constantly being accused of a crime will also appreciate these innocent and sincere messages.

My 15, 14, and 12 year-olds have all looked up the genocide online and seen the videos and images, then they have come and discussed them with me. I said the same thing to them: Be careful what you see and how it makes you feel. Pain and anger must be used to fuel change, not more pain, anger or more hate. Direct those energies to protests, rallies, vigils and letters to Congress to demand a ceasefire. More below.

how to contact your congressional representatives

In discussing ongoing genocide, emphasize stories of resilience and courage within affected communities. Share examples of individuals and groups working towards positive change, rebuilding their lives, and fostering hope amidst adversity. Stories of an unlikely live recovery in the rubble, or a family reunited will be good examples to maintain hope and possibility to young children. Stories of all afflicted people praising Allah (S) or declaring that they are not the ones being tested, but that we are, can inspire and incentivize older children to be grateful and act now.

Help children understand that expressing gratitude for safety, access to education and a supportive community does not negate the suffering of others, but rather emphasizes the importance of working towards a world where everyone can enjoy these rights. For younger children, this can be done via discussion while reading the books listed above.

Right now, our younger kids don’t need any bubbles to be burst about the realities of corrupt governments or be asked why leaders aren’t protecting them. None of us has that answer. Let children believe they can be the leaders who, one day 

It‘s okay to discuss the hypocrisy of leaders with older children and encourage them to have those discussions about human rights and cognitive dissonance without diving into religion in public spaces. It really depends on your kids’ maturity and ability to handle such discussions. If your kids join Amnesty International or Model UN, these are great opportunities for them to practice both public speaking and policy making and bring up, “What about Palestine?” without (Insha’Allah) getting in trouble. 

, trying to disband these school clubs to prevent our future generation from learning diplomacy and negotiation. That’s incentive enough to fight for and join them!

Going to vigils, marches, lectures and watching documentaries about Palestine will demonstrate the violations of human rights to older children better than we can, allowing them to exercise their brains and their civil rights.

We can’t say this enough. Model gratitude in the small wins: the light turned green before hitting the brakes, the weather warmed up, dinner was tasty, your kid got a “B” on the assignment. Say Alhamdulillah, carry your 

, or do it on your fingers as the sunnah until it’s a habit, and don’t stop in front of the kids. Normalize it in public. I’m on the soccer pitch with my kids, and the other parents appreciate it, especially when we are down a goal. This demonstrates that gratitude is not about ignoring difficulties, but finding comfort in 

Explore diverse cultures and histories via age-appropriate books, documentaries, discussions, or with experiences that highlight both the beauty and challenges faced by people around the world. Understanding different perspectives fosters empathy and a deeper appreciation for the interconnectedness of humanity.

 (and beyond), teach your kids that gratitude is every day, and especially to the people upon whose land we live. They’ll understand occupation and land grabbing at all ages. Talk about the un-whitewashed history of the upcoming holiday, the feelings of Indigenous people, and discuss reparations and justice. Acknowledge the harsh realities of genocide while fostering empathy, resilience and a sense of responsibility to all oppressed people, and especially to Palestine as our collective Muslim history and cause.

Children can learn to appreciate the importance of standing in solidarity with those who suffer while actively working towards a more just and compassionate world a lot easier than adults can. Trust them.

Dr. Uzma Jafri is originally from Texas, mom to four self-directed learners, a volunteer in multiple organizations from dawah resources to refugee social support services, and runs her own private practice. She is an aspiring writer and co host of

podcast, tipping the scales towards that ever elusive balance as the podcast tackles issues second generation Americans have the voice and stomach to tackle.

Teaching Our Children to Embody Gratitude as Resistance in a Time of Strife, War & Genocide

) holds profound significance in Islam, extending far beyond a fleeting sentiment. It forms the foundation of faith and serves as a transformative practice anchoring us, especially during challenging times. When faced with crises and the intricate dance between privilege and despair, the power of gratitude emerges as a beacon of spiritual mindfulness and emotional resilience.

How, then, do we, as Muslims blessed with faith and countless unseen blessings, harness this power to navigate the storms of life? When others around us are suffering unimaginable things, how can gratitude help us ground ourselves and serve others who need us?

Within the Holy Quran, the virtues of gratitude are extolled, and the 

of the Prophet Muhammad (saw) abounds with lessons on the profound impact of a grateful heart. In my household, gratitude is interwoven into the fabric of our daily existence. It is an ongoing practice, not without imperfections, but one that we relentlessly pursue.

At the end of a challenging day, we ask ourselves: What valuable lessons lie within this experience that we can be grateful for? When a problematic conversation rattles us, we turn inward and reflect: How can we appreciate our own growth and evolution beyond this moment? When we are rendered incapacitated by grief at what is happening around us, how can the depth of our feelings and pain fuel us to change what is within our capacity to change?

Our personal journey underscores that gratitude is not merely a reactive emotion but a proactive strategy – a mental muscle that, when exercised, has the power to reshape the landscape of our brain chemistry for the better. As Muslims, we are fortunate that the concept of gratitude is not foreign to us; instead, it is deeply ingrained in the very essence of our faith. It’s not just about being thankful for what Allah (S) has given us or protected us from. It’s the doorway to so much more.

Gratitude is a profound virtue emphasized in Islamic teachings. Let's explore five strategies to cultivate this sense of gratitude.

As part of our daily remembrance (dhikr), we maintain a gratitude journal to document Allah's (S) blessings. Each entry serves as a testament to the countless favors bestowed upon us, from the air we breathe to the comfort of our homes and the warmth of our families. 

This practice of journaling not only nurtures a deeper appreciation for life's blessings and fosters a positive mindset. Writing in a gratitude journal helps us to focus on the abundance in our lives, cultivating a sense of contentment and resilience against life's challenges. It's a simple yet powerful tool for enhancing our spiritual and emotional well-being.

2. Expressing gratitude to others (shukr to Creation):

 Our Prophet Muhammad (saw) taught us that expressing gratitude towards people is an expression of gratitude towards Allah (S). Therefore, we make it a point to say 

to show appreciation to others. This practice upholds the sunnah and strengthens the bonds within our community.

True patience (sabr) entails having gratitude. It is a powerful reminder that even life's tests are enveloped in divine wisdom. We strive to emulate the patience and gratitude of the prophets, understanding that every hardship carries hidden blessings within. And we accept that when terrible things happen, things that make no sense to us, there is a divine mercy and wisdom beyond our understanding in this earthly life. Being grateful for that knowledge is truly something beautiful.

By engaging in mindful contemplation (tafakkur), we immerse ourselves in the present moment, recognizing the miracles surrounding us. Each miracle serves as a sign (

) of Allah's (S) benevolence, fueling our gratitude.

Acts of charity (sadaqah) are tangible expressions of thankfulness and opportunities to share our blessings with others. We firmly believe that every act of kindness, regardless of its size, has the potential to create positive ripples within our community, thereby amplifying the spirit of gratitude. Especially in times of hardship and grief, when we feel powerless to change what is happening around us, we can express our appreciation by giving back to the communities in need in many ways.

Incorporating gratitude into our daily lives is a powerful strategy that helps us nurture a profound sense of appreciation within ourselves. By embracing gratitude, we draw closer to our Creator and build a more compassionate world.

Gratitude can shift our perspectives, uplift our spirits, and create positive change in our community. It serves as a reminder that despite hardships, there are always glimmers of hope and countless reasons to be thankful and ways we can take that gratitude and harness it to enjoin good and forbid evil.

We strengthen our inner peace and contribute to the world's healing when we anchor ourselves with gratitude. Our gratitude becomes a quiet revolution against despair, a guiding light that leads us back to the grace of Allah (S), and a message that every moment, whether good or bad, holds an opportunity for us to grow closer to the Divine.

In the spirit of our Islamic teachings, let us all find solace in gratitude, allowing it to illuminate our paths and transform our trials into triumphs of faith. May we find strength in gratitude, using it as a vessel to navigate life's crises with resilience, compassion, and deep-seeded hope.

When Faced with Crisis – 5 Ways We Can Center Gratitude to Build a Better World

 based on years of stories that I have heard told about Palestine, through the mouths of Palestinians. I pray that this helps you see the world in a different light because all stories have more than one side. Peace be with you all.

Dusk was nearing. The birds whispered to the setting sun their goodnights. The old man’s rocking chair creaked. The wind breezed through his thinning moon-kissed hair. His legs hurt him today more than normal. He warily sat on the porch and hoped that the aching in his knees would subside with the rhythmic back and forth of his chestnut colored rocking chair. The gentleman’s age was undisclosed … even to himself. 

You see, he came from a place where birthdays were forgotten, and papers were forever lost. The children in the neighborhood were used to hearing his stories every Saturday – it was a tradition from before anyone could remember.

They got to his house by bike or walking, some even ran as not to miss his stories. They clambered onto his wraparound porch, sat around his age-wary ankles. The soft lines of his face were unusually deep. His forehead was molded into waves of thought. “What’s wrong?” a couple of the children asked. “I will be fine,” he reassured them.

He began his story with “Once upon a time,” as he always had. This time though, he opened his mouth and started to sing a song:

“O, flying bird in the high sky / Say "hello" to the dear sweet one / Your name, my soul, will stay in my mind / Written on my forehead between the eyes.”

His voice broke off. It was as if years had passed since he’d sung these words to anyone in the living world. He sat quietly and the children looked up at him with eyes full of awe of his resplendent voice. They had never heard him sing, and for the slightest second it seemed like everything around them had stopped just to listen.

Slowly the children began to talk again, they chirped like little excited finches when they heard him sing. “Why don’t you sing to us every Saturday?” one little girl asked. He smiled back and thought of what they might have thought of his voice when he was younger. People called him the “Song Bird of the Village.” Someone with a voice so sweet, couldn’t go unnamed.

Sitting deeper into his rocking chair, Old Man Zackery continued to narrate a story that started so many years ago. “Today’s story is about the day that I met Sarah. Sarah was a girl with exquisitely mesmerizing hazel eyes and dark lush curls. She had a personality that spoke volumes to her linage. She was very smart, lively, and always, I mean always stood up for what she believed in.

A delegation of Palestinian women at the Lydda (Lod) Junction leaving for the Eastern Women’s Conference for the Defense of Palestine in Cairo, October 12 1938; image source: 

"Our village was on the coast. It was called the “Bride of the Galilee.” I still remember how peaceful it was there. A little like our town,” he said looking down at them. “We were farmers back then with little worry of the outside world ever piercing our comfort. The valleys were green and the olive trees were even greener. Everyone knew everyone and everyone’s kids belonged to the whole village.

"I met Sarah in 1946, two years before the world would change forever. I was on my lunch break. I always love to have my breaks on the pier. She was on an outing with her friends at the beach. I was 20 years old and ready for life to start. She was 18 and just getting a true taste of being an adult. That day, I remember her wearing a white cotton dress with a thin light-yellow belt and no shoes. Her feet kissed the water of the sea as she twirled around and laughed with her friends. 

"I remember the wind playing through her waist long curls. She lived near my old house, just a few streets over. Later that night we were both invited to a mutual friend’s house. I couldn’t wait to see her.” He looked down at the eager eyes and winked, “I knew she was going to be my wife. One week later I asked her to marry me.”

The children didn’t know what to say. They weren’t used to learning anything concrete about this man that lived alone in their neighborhood for as long as anyone could remember. He sat there, eyes full of memories. “On this day, 60 years ago I came to America.” They could finally put a timeline to him. The children could not possibly fathom 60 years passing, but at least they could tell their parents.

Before Old Man Zackery could continue, Benny whisper-shouted, “But, where’s Sarah now?”

“Dear boy, she lives on the wings of the Birds of Paradise.”

The kids didn’t know what exactly to make of what he had just said but knew that it meant that she wasn’t any where near where they lived. The sun had already set, and the children knew that this was their que that story-time was over. They thanked and hugged Old Man Zackery and went off their separate ways. “I hope Sarah comes to visit you some time soon,” one of them whispered into his ear. It was obvious the kids didn’t want their old friend so sad. Little did they know that the story continued in Old Man Zackery’s head.

He sat thinking to himself, “Oh ya Zackeira, today really is a day like no other. I can still see them in front of me. So close, yet so very far…”

Life was simple in Palestine. Everyone lived their lives happily and for the most part harmoniously. European customs trickled in slowly, appearing first in the way people dressed and matriculated later in the way people entertained themselves. Zackery, before he became Old Man Zackery, was one of the most handsome men in the village. People loved his company.

His job was a pretty simple one, he worked as a security guard for the only bank in the village. It was a quiet job, but it sure beat working the fields. He married his lovely Sarah in 1946. A few months later, they had one little girl they named Mariam. 

The midwife that delivered her, Um Ali, said she was the most bright-eyed baby she’d delivered in the whole village. She was truly her mothers’ daughter. Her electric personality treaded near the surface of her everything she did. She also inherited her mother’s reddish-brown curls.

Every Friday they would spend the holy day with family. Zackery had four brothers and two sisters. Sarah had seven brothers and three sisters. Everyone knew that little Mariam was spoiled beyond belief, but in a good way. They would spend their Friday nights on the rooftop of his parent’s villa. 

There was a cushioned pillow sectional along the roof of the two-story house. The roofs were flat, that made for an excellent place to have tea and chat or play a good game of backgammon or chess. His family grew grapevines on a large wooden lattice. Grape leaves made some of the most delicious meals in the Arab cuisine. 

He liked a laid-back kind of life. A life with no worries. A life where people lived to be happy, to share and to love. The past two years were as they should have been, full of joy and life and best of all, with Sarah by his side.

She worked for the newspaper. It wasn’t normal to see women employed at the paper but she wanted to make a difference. She would always tell her husband that she, “wouldn’t sit around as their country got stolen from under them.” She said it so often that Zackery memorized it. He even memorized how her hands flew into the air when she would say it. So much conviction for the truth. He admired her strength, but worried about her all the same.

He recalled one night, she came to him with worry in her eyes, “Zackery, something big is happening. I feel it every time a new story comes out about the new settlers. Something catastrophic is going to happen.”

“That’s what you always say my love. How about this, I’ll make us some tea so we can sit and put your mind at ease. Everything will be fine. I promise.” He remembered hugging her and the smell of fresh lemon in her hair.

He was too quick to make this promise because not a week had gone by that the whole village was set alight. He wasn’t home when it the skies above the village opened fire on them. The planes flew as close to the earth as they could without crashing. Sarah told Zackery about this this Zionist scare tactic before. 

He ran home to be with his daughter and wife. He tried to phone his family, but the lines were already cut. After hanging up the phone, Sarah looked over at him and said that they needed to run. He remembered asking her if it was just a scare tactic like she said, but something in her eyes said that this was much bigger than that. The sirens sounded again, and the screams began to waft through the air. They were frightening and filled everything around them with a terror they had never felt before.

Zackery knew that the political situation wasn’t the most peaceful, and he was ashamed of himself for being so naïve. They locked up the doors of the house and they chased the heels of the people of the village. Everyone was running towards the trains.

Old Man Zackery closed his eyes as he rocked back and forth repeating to himself that he tried to go back for them. He murmured to himself, “I tried ... ” he softly cried. “I pushed. I shoved. I shouted to keep them with me, but I couldn’t. It was as if we were being swept out to sea.” The loudspeakers of the village were turned to full blast telling everyone to “leave your houses with your women and children, or you will be killed.” Planes were flying so low. He held onto Sarah’s hand and ran with Mariam in his arms.

Old Man Zackery crunched over, shoulders hovering over his tired knees, as if holding the whole world on them, the memories bore down on him, he lifted his eyes to the sky and let out a heaving silent cry, waterboarded by his own tears.

He held her hand and wouldn’t let go. He shoved people left and right to get them to safety. The train cars were wide open and full of chaos. The last car was getting fuller by the second. Sarah had taken Mariam when he jumped on to keep the doors open for them. It was their only way out. 

He ran to the door to hold it open for his wife and baby to get in. His clothes got caught in the door and he was dragged into the tightly packed car. He remembered how he punched and screamed his way to get back to them, but between all the frantic limbs and loud voices, he saw them. They were getting swallowed up by the crowd. Before the doors were slammed shut, there was rapid gun fire. 

A Palestinian girl and her grandfather during the Nakba; image source: Twitter and Getty.

He rammed his head into the window of the car and saw it, he saw it all. 

Sarah and Mariam were both sprawled on the ground, gunshots wounds embedded into their beautiful angelic heads. The curls were laced with blood. The train lurched forward, and all he had left was the memories of that dreadful moment emblazoned on his eyelids.

He was frantic and on the edge of sanity crammed into that small space with his eyes still not realizing the truth of what he had just experienced. People of all walks of life were stuffed into these four metal walls. Everyone was stuck in their own forms of agony. As the minutes grew into hours, he started to come around.

“This was all planned, it had to have been,” he said to anyone that would listen. “There were over 4,000 people living in this village alone.” Every so often the train would stop. He didn’t know where his mother, father, brothers or sisters were. Looking over to his right he saw his good friend Muhammad, “Did you see my family get on?” he asked.

“I saw a few of your brothers, Malik and Musa, and I think one of your sisters. Did you see my mother and father? My father is not well.” He pleaded in the dark.

“I’m sorry my friend, I didn’t see anyone but a wave of human bodies enter these cars,” He swallowed hard, “They killed Sarah and my little Mariam.” His friend grabbed him into his chest and wept so loudly the whole car could hear them. Zackery refused to speak for the rest of the trip. Those words thickened his tongue and made him feel like he went into anaphylactic shock.

As the night went on people began to hush their cries and mumblings of despair. They were all hypnotized by the sound of the tracks. There were thuds of humans jumping out of the tomb-like carts at every stop. If families weren’t together, they would possibly never be together again. No one knew where the cars were discarding their cargo. 

Each stop meant a different city. The misery that filled the air as loved ones came to the realization that they weren’t together, was palpable. IDF Soldiers shouted over the chaos, people started pounding on their car doors, inside and out. With a total disregard of human safety, the train pressed on. Every few hours and more and more carts were emptied. Until it came to his turn. 

He was thrown on the tracks of an old Syrian city. He couldn’t believe that Sarah was gone. He couldn’t allow himself to come to grips with that reality, so he looked for his family, his wife, his child, in complete denial of the truth, they were gone and he was alone. He swore that he would never stop looking. Sarah was his one true love, and Mariam conquered all else.

Still sitting on his porch as night filled in the void of noise, he sat thinking, of the old rickety boat, called the ‘The Emancipator.’ He came to America on it. He recalled wanting to learn about the people of this new country. He picked up an outdated newspaper and began reading the stories of the people of this new land. There was a story about a little girl named Sophie. 

 The editorial spoke of her fright for the fireworks display on New Year’s and how her mother thought they should make fireworks quieter. For Sophie the sounds and lights were for amusement and festivity, for Sarah and Mariam they were the last things they ever saw. “They were my only family left on Earth. Sarah, my wife, and my little Mariam.”

Home can never be home if there is no one there to make it so…it cannot be home if someone else has taken it away. As he looked on he spoke to himself saying, “Unfortunately, the pleas against oppression fall upon deaf ears and blind eyes - eyes and ears that will never hear or see until the dirty green paper blindfold is lifted off of them.” Softly he sang,

“Religion has contained us in life / And only to God we complain about our suffering / No matter how long we live, we'll go back to our mother / Our dear land the mother of relationships”

A tear slowly glided from the old man’s eyes onto his cheek as he got up to leave his porch and turn off the light. All was dark, all was silent. But there was still a glimmer of hope in his mind, that maybe, just maybe his eyes hadn’t seen what they saw, and Sarah was also rocking on a rickety old chair with Mariam not too far away.

Mona Banawan is an American Egyptian. She is working on her first novel based in 1947 Jaffa, Palestine. She has been a life long activist for Palestine. Her husband is from the village of Tarshiha. It was occupied by the Zionist state in 1948. She is a proud mother of three half Palestinians children. Mona believes that the only way to victory is through God and being proponents of truth. The banner image of this story is sourced 

'Home Can Never Be Home If There is No One There to Make It So' – A Palestinian Story

 Our long-time writer, Layla Abdullah-Poulos, is taking on different activities in a year-long journey of self awareness, self empowerment and healing, which she is documenting throughout 2023 in a four-part series at The Haute Take. This, part four, is the autumn cycle of Layla’s journey, her last entry, and focuses on the healing power of friendships. 

 to read part one from the winter cycle. 

 to read part two from the spring cycle. 

 to read part three from the summer cycle. We hope it inspires you to embark on your own healing journey.

In life, we all face trials and tribulations that can shake us to our core. It's during these times that we often seek solace, support and healing. I've personally navigated through such challenging moments the past few years, and this past year I’ve made a concerted effort to focus on my healing. 

I can't emphasize enough the significance of having friends by your side on this healing journey.

When life throws its darkest moments our way, it's easy to feel isolated and overwhelmed. However, our friends, like shining beacons of light, can help guide us out of the depths of despair. Islamic teachings underscore the importance of genuine friendship and how it can be a source of immense comfort during difficult times.

In the Quran, we find verses that extol the virtues of companionship:

These verses remind us of the consequences of choosing the wrong company and the regret it can bring in times of need.

Layla with some of her friends at a Zumba class.

The Role of Friends in the Healing Journey

When enduring major life tragedies, seeking emotional, spiritual and mental repair becomes essential. Friends play a pivotal role in this process. They offer a safe space to share our pain and vulnerabilities. In Islamic tradition, the Prophet Muhammad (saw) said, "A believer is a mirror to another believer." (Hadith) True friends reflect our struggles and joys, offering empathy, understanding and support.

Friends are the unsung heroes who stand by your side, offering unwavering support even when words fail. Their presence alone can provide a sense of comfort and reassurance, reminding you that you're not alone in your struggle. This support was instrumental in my ability to keep moving forward.

I've experienced the healing power of friendship firsthand. My friends provided a shoulder to cry on, offered prayers and kind words, and simply listened when I needed to express my pain. Their presence reminded me of Allah's (S) mercy and love, helping me find solace amid chaos. They shook me when I needed to be shaken, held me when I needed to be held and laughed with me when I needed laughter in my life.

As an author, I'm accustomed to delving into the depths of human experiences through my writing. However, it was my friends who offered fresh perspectives and insights into my own journey. Their unique viewpoints challenged me to see my healing process from different angles, helping me gain a deeper understanding of myself.

In Islam, true friendship is built on faith, trust and sincerity. The Quran emphasizes the importance of choosing friends wisely:

This verse encourages us to surround ourselves with friends who uplift us spiritually and emotionally rather than those who may lead us astray. True friends support us in our pursuit of healing and personal growth.

My friends made sure to acknowledge and celebrate every step of progress on my healing journey. These moments of celebration served as beacons of hope during the darkest times.

In times of profound distress and sorrow, the support of friends is a precious gift. Islamic teachings remind us of the value of choosing companions wisely and nurturing genuine friendships. We can’t go through life alone; community and solid friendships are so important, so the time you invest in nurturing good friendships is time well invested. These bonds can be a source of strength, comfort and healing on our journey to emotional, spiritual and mental repair.

Remember, reader, that you don't have to walk this path alone. Reach out to your friends, lean on their support, and let the healing power of true friendship illuminate your darkest days. In the words of the Prophet Muhammad (saw), "A friend is the one who knows all about you and still loves you." May your healing journey be blessed with such loving friends by your side.

Thank you for being with me this year as I documented my healing journey. Surely it is not over, but Alhamdulillah for the progress I’ve made (despite setbacks along the way) and the support I’ve received. So grateful to Allah (S).

Are you on a healing journey? If so, what has been helping you? Share with us in the comments below.

The Layla Project: Finding Solace in Friendship & Islamic Wisdom on Healing 

As Breast Cancer Awareness Month comes to a close, it's essential to understand that breast cancer is not a one-size-fits-all illness. The disease disproportionately affects Black women with higher mortality rates than white women, highlighting the need for targeted awareness and specific interventions for this community.

, Black women are about 40 percent more likely to die from breast cancer than white women, even though they have a 4 percent lower incidence rate. So, while Black women may be less likely to get breast cancer, they are more likely to die from it.

I asked Dr. Ramla Namisango Kasozi to share her insights about Black women and breast cancer and offer some advice. Dr. Ramla is a board-certified family medicine physician and public health specialist. She is a Senior Associate Consultant in the Department of Family Medicine and Assistant Professor of Family Medicine at Mayo Clinic College of Medicine and Sciences.

Risk Factors as it Pertains to Black Women

Breast cancer is a devastating, indiscriminate disease afflicting women of all different backgrounds. Women of any age can be affected, and the disease is unfortunately all too common. “All women are at risk of breast cancer,” Dr. Ramla explains, “However, Black women die earlier from breast cancer at a median age of 62 compared to White women at 69 years [of age].” The higher breast cancer death rate for Black women demonstrates a significant and troubling health disparity that needs immediate attention.

This elevated mortality rate is not just a statistic; it represents countless lives, families and communities who are disproportionately impacted. The disparity is a complex issue with multiple layers, including but not limited to biological factors, systemic inequalities and cultural stigmas.

Dr. Ramla shared some factors that may contribute to the mortality disparity, which include but aren’t limited to:

Barriers to early screening and detection.

More advanced stages of disease at diagnosis among minorities,

Unequal access to chemotherapy once a breast cancer diagnosis is made.

Other common factors that may contribute to these disparities (these are factors one can’t change themselves) include:

Having genetic mutations (inheriting mutations BRAC1 and BRCA2).

Reproductive history: menses before age 12 and menopause after 55 expose women to hormones longer.

Having dense breasts (hard to see tumors on a mammogram).

Personal history of breast cancer or certain non-cancerous breast diseases.

Family history of breast or ovarian cancer.


And finally, other risk factors )that are modifiable) include:

Not being physically active (due to limited access to green spaces to walk/run, limited access to the gyms and sporting places).