29
Some time ago I was a writer. A writer of mostly creative nonfiction, and I performed on stages across NYC with the Muslim Writers Collective. I performed infrequently after learning I love to put on the show. I wanted to curate and collaborate, and spend my time strategizing deeply about the art of bringing everyone in one room. I’ve accepted that I just won’t be writing like I once did. Around this time last year as I was getting into the headspace to run for City Council, I shared with a friend that I wanted to do everything, including writing a children’s book with a Muslimah cyborg as the protagonist. She didn’t discourage me. Rather, she knew the children’s book would have to wait because a Muslimah cyborg has an election to win in 2021.
Although I launched my campaign in September 2019, the entirety of 2019 (and the last quarter of 2018 while healing from my left shoulder replacement surgery) was dedicated to dive into the depths of running for office. Around April 2019 I shared a love note to some of my closest friends without knowing exactly how stretched my time would be in this pursuit. That love note began like this: This is a note to let you know that I am not ignoring you nor have I ghosted our friendship. That year I learned new ways of loving people and manifesting friendships, which I dictated. Setting deliberate boundaries were never easy for me to do in the past. I knew I needed tenderness and comfort. I knew I’d retract to silence (big introvert energy) and alone time during downtime instead of hanging out. I knew my loved ones were capable of growing with me.
During the day I am working full-time in a demanding and fast-paced (and fun) lead organizing role at Council Member Brad Lander’s office. I love my job, and I love that it is aligned with my vocation. By night, my time is split across all things relating to the campaign. Throughout my days, I am more and more forthright in my pursuit of community service and organizing, advancing hard to imagine ideas, and radical accessibility and joy in our city. The teams I am working with value me, honor my ideas and process, and push me to take risks and respond to the challenging questions.
I am grateful for my discipline, moral clarity, courage, and razor-sharp focus. I’ve broadly shared with many about experiencing imposter syndrome and intangible fears, but these struggles don’t disturb my path. I found this out last year. I keep going because I believe in myself.
I am 29 today, and committed to another year of preparation, study, and creative power as my political campaign ramps up. I am still working full-time while I run for office, so it’ll be an ambitious year.
As I welcome my 29th year in Brooklyn, this note is a gift for me to remember the persistence, passion for depth in relationships, and personal growth. This year I welcome renewed intentions:
I embody radical love and softness. I speak truth to power, remembering often that pain brought me here. I intend to listen expansively, and not shy away from asking questions or debate. I seek long-lasting relationships that rejuvenate my soul and this Earth. I attract deep relationships and accept people with an open heart. I create safety no matter how difficult the path. I contain feminist histories and legacies, and have inherited Divine feminist and Muslim magic and wisdom to lead with purpose. I have no fear in the face of any challenge. I forgive myself and don’t get worked up over unintentional mistakes. I smile everyday.
Thanks for keeping me in your heart.
