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. 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 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. 

Posted in Misunderstood Adventures

Embracing the Unkown

It’s crazy how fast time flies, this time last year I was in England trying to figure out how to spend America’s Independence Day.  All week talking to my friends back home, hearing how they planned on spending the fourth, made me extremely homesick and sad. 

I  don’t look at the Fourth of July as my Independence Day, because in reality, my people were still slaves, but being in the country America won their Independence from made me a little more patriotic than usual. So, I planned out how I was going to spend my day down to every meal of the day. I’m a little bit of an over-planner. 

That morning I woke up and watched Independence Day, and sadly realized my preplanned day wasn’t going to happen. I was initially going to go to Buckingham Palace, and take a cute selfie with the American flag, but, unfortunately, the tube line I  normally took was closed. I also intended to go to the American Embassy for a firework show that night, but it was canceled as a response to Trump’s visit. I became frustrated and was ready to just cancel the whole day. I knew I didn’t want to stay in the house all day and forced myself to go out.

So, I decided to get cute and put on my most American outfit, which happened to be a baseball t-shirt, jean shorts, and converse. I stepped outside and decided to go to the mall to get a cheeseburger and milkshake. As I was walking to the food court, I decided to go into some shoe store, and actually can’t remember the name of it. That’s beside the point, when I walked into the store I met this nerdy guy struggling to find a pair of shoes. I remember one of the first things he said to me was, “damn, you really look American AF”, which meant my outfit was a success. I ended up hanging out with him for the rest of the day just going with the flow and had one of the most memorable Fourth of Julys.  You can read all about that story in a “ British Love Story”, but today marks the anniversary of me finally realizing I don’t have to plan out my whole life for it to be amazing. Up until that moment, I felt like my life was falling apart because nothing was going as I planned, and it was too late to get back on track with my original timeline. I don’t know why that day helped me realize that, but I’m just grateful it did. I still struggle to remember to stop planning and trying to control life. Each day I remind myself to just embrace the unknown and live a joyful life. 

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Happy First Anniversary

Never did I think I would start a blog, and let alone fall involve with being a blogger. I initially started this journey not expecting anyone to actually read or care about what I have to stay. I thought only my friends and family would occasionally read to be supportive, but it’ll just be some online diary I rarely tend to. As a pleasant surprise, that isn’t the case.

Through each post, writing out my experiences, I’m discovering my voice and realizing my words and opinions matter. The goal of my blog is to share a different perspective of being a young, Black, and Muslim woman. Express how there’s no standard experience, and regardless of my appearance, both are part of my identity. 

Today marks the one year anniversary of The Misunderstood Afro Muslimah, and I couldn’t be prouder of my blog! I’m so honored and grateful to all of the people who’ve taken the time to read my posts. Thank you to all of my followers and readers; y’all have left some wonderful, thoughtful, and heart filled comments throughout the year. I’ve received emails from people sharing similar experiences, or just continuing the conversation past my initial article. I’ve had the privilege to speak on a panel in London, about my post, Diary of a Problematic Brown Skin Girl, and that was truly out of my element, but one of the highlights of my blogging experience. Also as a novice blogger, I’ve had the opportunity to be a guest blogger and do collabs on other bloggers website.

This has been a wonderful year and so excited about the future endeavors of me and my blog! Thank you again to everyone who has supported me throughout this journey!!

Posted in Trap House Chronicles

Princess in the Trap House

My first semester living on my own off-campus was an unforgettable adventure. During the search for housing, I wasn’t too picky because I was aware it was only going to be for a semester, and like most things my mindset was “what’s the worst thing that can happen”.

I moved to a not so desirable neighborhood. If you walk a few blocks forward you were by Johns Hopkins University, but if you walk a few blocks back, you were in the hood. My street was filled with vacant and boarded up homes, but I saw the potential of the neighborhood. 

My housemates, definitely added to the adventure of my already exciting setting. It was a four-level home with about 6 bedrooms, and I had about 8 housemates. In the basement lived a couple with a giant mean dog! The woman was in her late 40s, while the man was about 25 years old, and they argued every day all day! Upstairs initially seemed a little calmer, but I soon met the rest of my housemates. A young pregnant woman and her mother lived in one room. They had a revolving door of drama, disrespectful house guest, and sticky fingers. Next door to them was an aspiring boxer, who owned these 2 kittens, who I absolutely fell in love with. He was always nice and respectful; plus pretty much let me play with the cats whenever I wanted. The room directly below me, that was my favorite housemate, and we actually became good friends. He was the landlord’s son and was a recent grad. We both shared an amazing sense of style and had the same mindset when it came to life.

As for me, I lived on the very top floor and considered myself a princess trapped amongst the ratchets. For the most part, I barely interacted with my houseguest, because I was always either on-campus or just stayed up in my room. I would hear all the chaos going on below me and knew to just mind my business. Even though I would never put myself in that situation again, I do have a lot of fond memories.

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Being Black & British

I recently had the privilege to do a blog collab/ interview a Black British blogger, and I hope you enjoy her answers as much as I do!  

Please Follow her Blog and Social Media

Blog: https://therconnect.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/itsrutho

Pinterest : https://www.pinterest.co.uk/therconnect/

For people who are not familiar with your content what is your blog about? 

My blog therconnect features three components: Lifestyle, Travel, and Poetry. Lifestyle gives my readers the lowdown of my daily experiences by documenting my personal stories. Travel is my travel adventures the good, bad and ugly. Here I feature my honest perspectives different destinations including photo diaries, itineraries, and travel reviews.

Lastly, I write poetry! Here you can check out my work and find something that relates to you. My blog aims to hopefully provide relatable experiences to all my readers.

 Where in the UK are you located?

I am from London, England. 

  I noticed during my time in London, most of the people in my generation, millennials, do not consider themselves to be Black British, but their ethnic origins. Is there a shift in England about being considered Black British?

Well, I think there are two reasons for this explanation. Firstly, some Black people were not born in Britain. A lot of people I know lived in their homeland country and relocated at an early age. They consider themselves to be more in touch with their ethnic origin which makes sense as they would identify better. It also stems from feeling a sense of pride of where you are from. More recently now Black people are taking more pride in their culture from food to speaking their own language too.

Another explanation is although there are a Black British people actually born in Britain they consider themselves to be African/Caribbean due to the way they were raised. The way African and Caribbean people are raised to White British people differs, especially if their parents were raised in such way leading it to be passed down to each generation. I also feel that even when Black people are born in Britain we still get asked: “where are we really from?”. It seems like some people cannot comprehend Black people can be Black British. To a certain extent we are a product of our environment, being from and raised in Britain will influence us and forms a part of being that person.

 How do you identify yourself?

I was born in Britain, so I identify as being Black British. I feel a lot of things relating to being who I am stem from being British. I say this because if today I packed from Britain and moved to Nigeria it will be a shock as I am not completely used to the culture as I have not lived there.

However, I can never abandon my African roots they play a major part in being who I am. I would say I am Black British, but I will proudly say I am Nigerian. My identity majorly stems from being Black which I take major pride in so how can I not consider myself African?

 How would you consider the Black British experience?

Great question! This question is kind of difficult, to sum up. The Black British experience varies from what area you are from. For example, I am from London where there are a lot of Black people due to it being the largest city in the UK. The Black British experience has somewhat become more positive as I constantly socialize with Black people and we are able to learn so much from each other. However, someone living in a different part of Britain such as Huddersfield (Yorkshire) experience can differ from being black. On the other hand, no matter where someone is based in Britain we have something in common…we are black!

We deal with microaggressions whether it is someone stereotyping us because of the colour of our skin or giving us funny looks it happens here. Britain is still racist (no matter how it is for people to believe) people think because not everyone is shouting insults it doesn’t exist it does!

Let me not scare you though Britain is great obviously is needs improvement like everywhere else but there is so much stuff for Black people to do. There is an increasing amount of entrepreneurs and black people in high position. One thing I love about Britain is that there a lot of different opportunities.

  Do you feel there is racism between other races of color, or do you feel a sense of unity?

Unfortunately, yes! I think even people of other races consider black people to be the bottom of the barrel still to this day. However, the younger generation seems to be more unified as people of different races spend time socializing and learning about each other. Therefore, the stereotypes or racist attitudes the older generation does not filter to the younger generation.

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

Cairo Love

As a child, I would always hear this beautiful love story about a young college woman. She was born and raised in Washington DC and went off to college in the Midwest. She decided during her college years to travel abroad to Cairo, Egypt for a year.

While in Egypt she met a young Embassy Marine. The first encounter was definitely not a traditional love at first sight, but little did they know it was the beginning of a beautiful love story. The woman initiated the conversation with a sassy borderline rude inquisitive question, but the marine loved her spark and feisty personality. They began talking and hanging out more and with each encounter, the love started to build stronger. 

They both found it ironic, that he was born and raised in Virginia, but they met in Egypt. It was eventually time for her to return home, and the marine to be stationed elsewhere, but they refused to let that be the end to their story. Regardless of the distance, they kept in contact and with each phone conversation and letter, they fell in love. Shortly after him arriving back to the States, the young college woman and the marine were married. 

That’s the love story of my parents, and I’ve always looked at it as a fairytale, that I got to be apart of what happens after they lived happily ever after.