Differently or with difference?



I consider myself a feminist – of sorts. See, I think that women shoot themselves in the foot sometimes in the name of being feminists, and end up giving up on some feminine perks in the name of equality.

Anyway, despite being a feminist- of -sorts,
And advocating for the right to drive in Saudi and all that..
I have to say, it’s not a hardship to be treated like a lady from time to time.

To have the driver not only drop you off right at the door of the store you want, but then to say: ” Madame, wait in the car while I check if the store is open”
Ok… thanks

Or to watch the store clerk and the driver discuss who gets to carry your heavy bags to the car( baby supplies not designer shoes I promise).

Or to have someone become a little flustered, and change their manner when they realize there is a lady in the room.

Again, I know not everyone is as fortunate as I am, and there is a lot to be done for women all over the world. I am a fierce advocate of women’s rights ( just you wait and see what I plan to do here once I get settled 💪🏻)

I’m just saying, for the sake of my wellbeing..
In the present, in the meantime, while things slowly and gently change with our soft powers of influence, with respect for our history and tradition and the pace of change..

I can either rant about not driving
or enjoy the perks of having a driver

If a man offers to carry my suitcase, I can get all offended and assume it’s a slight to my strength,
Or realize his gesture for what it is was meant: an act of respect and reverence for my femininity.


I can be angry that women are treated “differently”
but I choose instead, to focus on how they are treated with “difference”.

Image retrieved from:

Houses and Homes

4 days to go..

I have intense mixed feelings about moving back to Saudi Arabia (as you have all gathered, I’m sure). I will miss the familiar life I’ve built in Montreal, and my friends, and the leaves of the Fall, and my walks by the canal; my absolute favorite place here, graffiti and all.

At the same time, I miss my country, my family, my language. I miss the feeling of unquestionably belonging to the patch of earth beneath my feet, and to the people long buried beneath that patch of earth. I feel an almost urgent need to reconnect with the land and my identity. to lie down in the dust and rub my tired cheeks on the scorching desert sand.

An immigrant once told me, the moment you cross the ocean, you are always on the wrong side..I feel that way sometimes. Whenever I am in one place I long for the idealized other.

Although this tends to pull my heart strings in separate directions, I’d never have it any other way. I’m so lucky to love and be loved by so many people in many places, and to know that although I don’t own a house anywhere, There are many homes in both countries that would open for me, if ever I knocked on your door ( right? 😅)

Montreaaaaal! I found a part of myself by your canal. I built a part of myself in your mosques, and I’m leaving a part of myself in your river. I love you. I love your people. You have been so good to me, and I will do everything I can to come back 🙂