Posted in The Afro Muslimah

A Fitness Journey

As we all know by now, I have a love-hate relationship with my body. I’m always searching for this perfect figure or maybe a nonexistent magic number on the scale to make me happy, but my New Year resolution is to get back in shape and eat healthier. Whatever size or weight I end up with that’s what it’s going to be. I need to learn to love my body the way it is, and not some unknown expectation. 

I’ve said all these beautiful words before, but this time feels different. I have real fitness goals and I’m doing it for myself, no longer seeking some outside validation that I’ll never receive. So, the first step was my diet. I simply wanted to cut down on my sugar intake, and for me, that was juice and sodas. I increased my daily amount of water and tried to only drink one cup of juice a day. I’m also a late-night eater, I get the hungriest around 10 PM and would eat a full meal and then go straight to sleep. That needed to end immediately, so I try to stop eating at 8:30 PM. I had to reduce the amount of junk food I eat as well if I wanted to obtain a healthy diet.

After I got a nice flow with my diet, it was time to focus on the fitness component of this healthy lifestyle. Initially, I only had one goal, to run a mile in seven minutes or less. So, after I did my cardio for the day I was pretty much done. The closer I came to reaching the goal, the more I wanted to push my body to get stronger. Then the stay at home order hit, and all the gyms closed and I came back home with my parents. That was definitely a setback and lost my motivation to continue with my fitness goals. Then one sad night eating junk, I realized I didn’t want all my hard work to go to waste. 

So, that next day I ran my mile and made my little brother do some home workouts with me. I increased my water to a minimum of eight cups a day and at my last meal by 8 PM. I reduced junk to twice a week, and juice only once a week. My body and skin started to show that my hard work was paying off, but more importantly, I started to feel good and proud of myself. I found joy in working out, it’s no longer a chore, but a therapeutic release.

I can’t say now I’m in love with my body and the way I look, but I am done trying to be fit, thick, or whatever else I wanted to be for some external validation. Honestly, up until a couple of nights ago talking to one of my best friends, I didn’t even feel like I was accomplishing anything, but I am. I’m sticking to this healthy lifestyle and proving all of my negative thoughts wrong. 

Posted in Misunderstood Adventures

Quarantine Days

I can’t believe all this time in the house and I’ve barely written anything. I have tons of notes and ideas scribbled down but haven’t actually written a post. So, I’ll just tell y’all what I have been up to.

I decided to go home and spend the stay at home order with my parents and younger brother, which has its pros and cons. For the most part, it’s been nice, and I am enjoying my time at home. I don’t, however, enjoy hiding food from my hungry hippo of a teenage brother who eats everything in sight. I’m extremely territorial, so the food I pick out for myself I feel this internal rage when someone else eats it, but then I must remember I didn’t actually pay for it, so I calm my broke self down. To reduce my desire to snack and just eat out of boredom throughout the day, I have increased my daily water intake drastically. As a result, I can officially put peeing as one of my hobbies, it’s crazy!

Not only did I increase my water, but I have been eating relatively healthy. I still, of course, indulge in some comfort food, but I haven’t been eating out and I’ve been cooking all of my meals. Since all of the gyms closed, I’ve been trying to keep active. So I decided to become my little brother’s personal trainer and I make him workout with me every day for at least 30 min. When it’s nice outside we do the workouts in the backyard, I know one day he’ll be grateful for this, even though now all I get is complaints and backtalk. I am loving this bonding time I get to spend with him and going to miss it when life goes back to normal.

Now I have binge-watched so many shows and currently re-watching every single Marvel movie in order. I guess during that time I could have been doing something productive, enhance my knowledge, or even just do some type of maintenance with my blog, but I didn’t feel like it. I’m at peace and don’t regret any of my choices. However, I am now ready to make better use of my time and I can’t think of a better time since Ramadan has just begun. Hopefully, these next 30 days will be healing and help me find some inner peace. 

Ramadan Mubarak to all of my fellow Misunderstood Muslimahs and Muslims!  

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Two Years & Counting

I’ve officially been blogging for 2 years!

This past year, I was nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award, which is an award for blogs that promote positivity. Honored and shocked is an understatement of how I still feel, not only do I have people reading my words, but it is also a positive space for others. Thank you so much again, Zaza for nominating me, even though I did not win I am beyond honored and grateful. 

As I reflect back to all I’ve written this past year, my favorite is definitely “Not Black Enough”. Middle school is where I began writing in the first place and that’s an experience I often think back on and helped inspire the theme of my blog initially.

In addition to working on my blog, I’ve had the honor to be a featured blogger on the Hijabie Hood. Through that experience, I was able to connect with other Muslimah Bloggers all over the world. Not only did we gain inspiration and unique perspectives from one another, but it was nice to be apart of a sisterhood of fellow bloggers. I will always love and treasure that experience. 

Hands down my favorite part of my blog is reading all of the comments, emails, feedback, and support I received over these past 2 years. Each time I get a notification a huge smile comes across my face! I’m still in disbelief that people read and care about all of my crazy adventures. Thank you all so much for your support and love!! I’m excited about this next year and the continuous growth of my Unapologetically Misunderstood family!! 

HAPPY SECOND BLOGIVERSARY!!! 

Posted in Trap House Chronicles

Princess in the Trap House: Moving Out

My sentence of living in the Trap House was finally over, and I had mixed emotions. Mostly excited and thrilled to be leaving that dump of a house. The only problem was my father was finally going to see where I’ve been living for the past four months. 

The whole neighborhood looked a mess, dirty streets and boarded up homes was the view as you drove down my street. I was a little scared because I knew he would have never let me live there and he was about to fuss! But before we even get to the actual move out day, let me tell y’all how I took procrastination to a new level. 

For about two weeks before the move out date, my father would call and remind me to be all packed up by the time he comes. Of course, it went in one year and out the other, so I kept pushing packing off to another day. Before I knew it, it was two days before I was supposed to move out, but I didn’t have the time to pack. I believe it was a Thursday, and I was moving out that Saturday, which was also the same night as my bday party. While Friday one of my close friends was graduating. So, instead of staying home and packing up all my stuff, I just packed a small bag for Thursday and Friday night. I was staying at the graduate’s house those nights and we planned to go out and party to celebrate her success. 

I arrived back to my Trap House Saturday morning with about 2 hours to pack up my entire living space before my dad arrives. My dad calls and lets me know he’s almost at my place and he thinks he’s lost because all he saw were boarded and vacant homes, but I lovingly reassured him, he was on the right path. When he finally pulls up and I let him in, let’s just say he wasn’t a happy camper. Not only did he see his daughter was living in a Trap House, but I wasn’t even close to being all packed up. 

He helped me pack up the rest of my stuff, along with a lecture about safety and procrastination. The normal dad type of talks, that had me wishing I was actually packed and ready to go. When we were finally done and I could officially turn in my key and leave that dump of a house, I felt accomplished, that my spoiled butt actually survived, like I just completed my own reality show! 

I definitely made a lot of life long memories being a Princess in a Trap House. 

Posted in Trap House Chronicles

Princess in the Trap House pt. 4

You know living in the trap house had many difficulties, that I didn’t mind so much. Up until I heard a mouse in my room. I’m terrified of bugs and have a fear of mice.

I remember hearing the bickering couple in the basement complain about mice, but I’ve never seen any and assumed I wouldn’t because the boxer’s kittens spent the majority of the time in my room. The boxer eventually took his kittens away and gave them to his mother, leaving my room vulnerable for an attack. 

One day as I was laying on my bed, I heard little chewing on a wrapper and shortly after heard it run across my room. I quickly called my landlord, who said he’ll come by the next day to lay traps. But I needed an immediate solution because I was terrified at thought of sharing my room with a mouse for the night. So, I called my brother to come and help me catch the mouse or place traps down or something, but of course, he was useless and refused to come and help. 

So, I called my friend, the same guy from the “Our Story” series, to come over and mouse hunt with me. While I waited for his arrival, I stayed on my bed terrified and watched a movie to distract myself, but that was useless. That little mouse was having a field day in my room! I saw it running back and forth, climbing on my close, and trying to get in my trunk where I locked up all my snacks. My friend eventually arrived and basically laughed and made fun of me for a bit, before he decided to be useful. After he moved a couple of things around and I realized I wasn’t made for the mouse hunting lifestyle, I decided it may be best for me to wait downstairs. 

When I returned back upstairs, he tore my room apart looking for the mouse! I felt like I was in an episode of Tom and Jerry, and was being outsmarted by a rodent. The mouse must have left my room and went to another place in the house, but I didn’t want to stay in my room alone. My friend agreed to stay with me, but he really just made jokes the whole night and called me a giant baby for being scared of a mouse.

Luckily I had about a month left living in the trap house and all of these horrors will soon be over. Unfortunately, it looked like the mouse wasn’t going anywhere, and it was time for to get over this fear. So, I ended up naming the mouse Nibbles and plotted his doom every day until I moved out. Luckily, I’m officially no longer scared of mice but hope never to share a room with another mouse again.

Posted in Trap House Chronicles

Princess in the Trap House pt. 3

As I’ve stated before, each one of my housemates added to the adventure and excitement of living in the trap house. The mother and daughter duo was a pair that I could never fully understand. They lived on the second floor and shared a small room with no windows. The daughter was pregnant and her cousin often stayed with them. 

I could never fully comprehend how the three of them could fit into that small room, but again that was none of my business. They were relatively polite to me and never caused me too much drama. All except the time their toothpaste went missing and the pregnant daughter actually came all the way up to my room to interrogate me. After a rude inquisition, I rarely had any other encounter with them; maybe passing pleasantries that they rarely returned. 

But something I could look forward to almost every night starting around 9, was them banging on the door for someone to let them in. I do not know if they ever had a key, lost the key, or simply never believed in using keys. Regardless, they were always locked out and expected us to keep the door unlocked for them. Yes, I realize my next statement is completely unsafe, but hey I’m alive to write about it. So, for the majority of the time, the door would remain unlocked. 

On a few occasions, I would like the main door, and when they would return realizing they were in fact locked, it was always a show. They would bang on the door and demand for someone to open the doors. Most of the time, it’ll take a while for someone to decide to let them in. I would never, just out of laziness and the fact that I could never understand why they didn’t have their key. When they would finally get in the house, they continued to yell and scream, and act like the house was purposely trying to keep them out.

One time I guess, the whole house was fed up with them and everyone refused to let them in. They did their usual banging and screaming and I assume they eventually called our landlord. He began calling everyone in the house, I politely declined the call and returned to watching my show. Eventually, the landlord arrived to let them in and I faked sleep. The more I think about it, the more I don’t miss that house. 

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Happy Birthday to Me

Chapter Twenty-Three has officially concluded, and in summary, I accepted I’m a wonderful chaotic put together mess.  

Now it is time to truly flourish and embrace the unknown of what this next chapter will bring me. Once I finally threw out the ridiculous timeline of my life and just live for me and enjoy the moment; I was finally able to grow and learn to accept every part of my journey. Even the moments, I wished never happened, but it’s part of my story. I learned the power in my words and that I need to stop filtering and trying to make my thoughts come out cute or nice. The raw ugly and unfiltered truth would have saved me from some painful situations.

Today is my 24th birthday and entering Chapter Twenty-Four I’m looking forward to what new and crazy adventures I can get into.  I’m entering this year proud of myself, for finally being honest and stop expecting perfection. I learned there is a lot of fire burning within me and I haven’t been making proper use of it. So, for this next chapter, I’m going to use my fire as a source of energy to help me become one step closer to achieving my goals.

Happy Birthday to ME, the chaotic beautiful mess, let’s see what this next journey around the sun can bring.

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

A Decade in the Making

You know as I scroll through social media, I see a lot of people doing the #10year challenge; and I can’t help but reflect on my past decade.

During my last year of middle school, I was seeking an escape from those awkward years. I can remember counting down to my eighteenth birthday because I thought life would become so much easier for me, that’s a huge joke in hindsight. But I was constantly overwhelmed with emotions and felt like I had no real outlet to release them. 

So my secret journaling began. I started to place all of my negative emotions on paper. I would write poems or short rants of whatever was one my mind. I would sit in my room, play music and write my heart out. I would share wild stories and talk about secret loves that I knew would never happen. I guess you can call it a diary, but it never seemed that way to me. 

My journal became my truth, an unfiltered version of me, that wasn’t shy or in fear of judgment. I often look back and reread my journals and love seeing how my words and thoughts have truly matured with me. How over the years I’ve healed from some insecurities and began to have faith in myself. It’s bittersweet to read all of the pain I’ve felt over the past ten years, but it reminds me of my strength. 

I know the day I started writing in a random notebook, that young teenage girl never would believe our thoughts and words would evolve into a blog. But here I am turning my random journal entries into blog posts. 

Posted in Hijabi Adventures

Words From An Ex Hijabi

Dating as an Ex Hijabi is very interesting and sometimes frustrating, well in all honesty dating, in general, is frustrating. I started to notice a pattern or a common theme with Muslim men.

With Muslim men, I placed them in two different categories, and honestly by the end of the first conversation it was easy to categorize. The first category, are the men who believe Muslim women have a choice regarding wearing the hijab but expect when it comes to their wives. The conversation always kind of starts the same, “Why don’t you wear Hijab” or “Have you ever wore the hijab”. I give my reasoning and for the most part, they agree with me. The longer the conversation continues it somehow circles back to me covering my hair or well modesty in general. They may slip into the conversation about how they imagine their future wife in hijab, or how their mothers expect their future daughter in law to cover.  Needless to say, that will never be me, especially not for some man.

The second category is the hijabi bashers. They never ask my opinion about covering, but assume that I hate the hijab and hijabis, which is one of my pet peeves. I have tremendous respect and love for hijabis, especially because I know how hard and the dedication it takes to wear the hijab, especially in a non-Muslim country. Hijabis get enough negativity from ignorant people, they don’t need it from Muslim men, who I believe shouldn’t have an opinion about a woman covering, but regardless you should keep your negative opinions to yourself.

You know what I find funny, the sub-category of hijabi bashers, that end up marrying a hijabi. I find that they want to date or play around with a non-muslim or someone they perceive not to be religious, but when their ready to settle down they find a nice hijabi.

Of course, not every Muslim man fits into those two categories, but the majority I have encountered do.

Posted in Trap House Chronicles

Princess in the Trap House pt.2

Living in the trap house I was rarely bored. There was always some sort of excitement either in or outside of the house. One of the common themes of drama in the house was theft. Al Humduillah (Thank God), no one ever stole anything from me, maybe nobody felt like walking all the way upstairs, but most likely because God was looking out for me. 

One of the most memorable theft moments was when the Boxer’s laptop went missing. I was living in the house for about a month and a half at this point, and the most I’ve heard him say was about 10 words. Until that night, he was yelling and fussing almost all night. He first started with calmly asking all the housemates if we have seen his laptop, and of course, everyone said no. Actually, he never did come all the way upstairs and ask me. 

Then it was about 10 min of silence before all hell broke loose. I remember hearing a whole bunch of screaming and yelling, but one argument stood out the most. The pregnant housemate was telling the Boxer to get over it and quit disturbing the peace due to the fact she was also a victim of theft. She eventually revealed the item was just toothpaste and I sincerely hope she saw how the two things weren’t equivalent. 

Eventually I heard another housemate step in to defuse the situation, but honestly, the more people tried to calm him down, the madder he became. I’m assuming someone called the landlord, at some point in the midst of the screaming and banging he walks into the house. 

He takes the Boxer outside, where I had a perfect view and tries to talk to him. After a lot of going back and forth, the landlord agreed to replace his laptop. 

The boxer ended up with an upgrade, our landlord bought him the latest Mac Book and the Boxer never seemed to learn his lesson. He still continued to leave his door wide open, even when he wasn’t home.  Meanwhile, during all the drama I was upstairs sipping and enjoying my tea. 

I really don’t miss living in that house and still amazed that I ever lived there. Hearing the Boxer fuss was a nice break from the bickering couple.