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botchbatch · 5 years

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Perks of Being a Wallflower Movie review: SPOILERS!

Perks of Being a Wallflower is an amazing coming-of-age film that does not fail to surprise me and touch topics that are usually swept under the rug for the sake of movie magic. Based off of the novel created by Stephen Chbosky, the movie really captures the childish and carefree nature that should come with growing up and not exactly wanting to fit in. It was raw, with real life problems and emotions. You’ve got gay characters suffering inner turmoils, self-esteem issues, child sexual harassment, anxiety, and panic attacks. The bohemian characters and the weird situations are what make high school, high school.

In this film we follow Charlie Kelmeckis, an awkward freshman who isn’t one for being in the spotlight-- a wallflower. After befriending two eccentric step-siblings, Sam and Patrick, at a football game, he finds himself being taken under the two seniors’ wings. With this friendship they teach him many things about opening up and trying new things for yourself, something that Charlie had not experienced up until then. As beautiful as the idea is, things like these always end up cracking under the pressure. Many problems arise, but in the end the film is supposed to give you the feeling of the roller-coaster that is life. Each member of this trio has their own story and problems, which make the film so compelling.

Charlie’s character has far more depth than what you’re led on to believe. Because of his lack of friends growing up-- the last best friend he had committed suicide-- he has trouble expressing himself and at times, let people use him because he doesn’t know how these relationships normally work. An example of this is when Patrick kisses him after his monologue due to the harsh breakup with his “boyfriend”. In this scene, Patrick is heartbroken and in the heat of the moment, kisses Charlie. The only reason Charlie didn’t get mad and kissed back was because he had assumed that it was just what friends did. He genuinely believed that letting people take advantage of him is a way of showing affection and is a normal aspect of a relationship. In no way was Patrick trying to take advantage of him-- as he had apologized profusely after, but it just goes to show how lost they both are. This mindset is clearly developed because of his aunt, who had used him as a child, and you can tell that it had stayed with him until high school. Due to this, he always puts others before himself.

One especially drilling scene is at the end when Charlie has a panic attack, which is described to be one of the most accurate film interpretations of one. After Sam and Patrick leave for college, Charlie is finally left with his thoughts, and having just learned how to live for himself, the pressure of his past start building up and turning on him. He begins to blame himself for his aunts death; a figure of authority who took advantage of him as a child. Of course, the police come before he attempts to harm himself in any way (as implied in him looking over at the knife rack). Though having grown so much, Charlie spirals down to a dark state of mind. I interpreted this scene as Charlie feeling too much. He’s upset about his best friends leaving and finds himself alone once again.

One friend that Charlie had made on his own was his English teacher, Mr. Anderson, who was the source to the popular quote, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” Charlie repeats this once more to Sam as she tries to get over her boyfriend who had cheated on her. This really makes you feel for Charlie, who has been spending most of his life believing he isn’t worth enough for others, or only deems himself valuable if they could use him somehow. This mindset is why he seemed to relate to Sam so well, and upon comforting her about the topic, it also seemed like he was talking to himself.

Perks of Being a Wallflower is the kind of film that makes you feel, and touches your heart in its own way. You start to put yourself in their shoes, feeling awkward when Charlie looks around to see everyone already looking and judging him, or feeling free when you see Sam stick her head out of the car’s sunroof, letting the wind blow in her hair as a David Bowie song plays. What makes the movie so good is the spirit it brings, and the ability to relate to its audience. It’s a movie about love, healthy or unhealthy. And above all, the love you receive from your friends.

#the perks of being a wallflower #perks of being a wallflower #tpobaw #pobaw #movie review #english unit #for Powell to read

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mxladymorgan-moved · 6 years

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From his William and Mary chair where he sat cross-legged, right arm hanging loose to the side and hand holding a glass goblet of whisky, pirate captain Black Bones scoped the deck of his galleon, his blue eyes aptly coloured for the day, for today constituted a gloomy chapter in his biography. Today was the day of his death.

The Adamastor was all but desolate now while it had been so full of life the night before, buzzing with the sounds of the swabbies performing their one duty, of Navarro Lopo’s men cleaning the demi-cannons, of Spanish-sounding folk music plucked out of guitar strings and the indistinguishable voices of men’s chatter. How Bones missed it all already and how his heart cried for it, saving his face the trouble of shedding tears and thus of adding disgrace to dishonour. There was only so much he could bear.

The amber liquid rocked gently against the glass, a reflection of the tides in the captain’s chest. This ocean was self-possessed, pretty much like the calm before the storm or the serenity after the tempest, either metaphor would work. But neither would be true, for there was never a big disturbance in that heart of Bones’s, which had been taught how to be noble and remain collected, no matter how stormy the thoughts in his head might be.

In that chair, he might look enthroned, a king before his kingdom. But this was folly when his kingdom was deserted, his court and unloyal subjects gone. Bones took a sip of his drink, let it burn down his throat and warm his insides and with the comfort it offered, mourned his end.

He was captain no more. He was Bones no more. He was Morgan, the noblewoman of Shipwreck who had always dreamt of being a pirate and had once achieved this goal, with feet clad in male boots, feminine features expertly hidden and a male name presented as her own. This masculinity was dead and, with it, all her dreams as well. Only hope remained but it made for a very weak buoy.

There were steps. They grew louder as the man got near to her. From the sound they made and the sound of beads dangling along with them, Morgan knew the approaching man to be Santiago, her faithful quarter master who had stayed behind, she guessed, to look after her soul like he’d done with Bones’s. How right his claims of having a priest on board should the devil appear too soon with a tempting offer seemed now, when her soul was indeed of spiritual relief and guidance.

Morgan lifted her chin as high as she could and kept on watching the horizon, the buzz of the previous night still echoing in her ears. Santiago stopped behind the chair, slightly to the woman’s right-hand side. She swallowed hard, knowing this choice of coordinates was deliberate - the priest was showing mournful respect for his captain and offering a friendly ear.

Hell, did she love him for it.

“Which one is it?” she asked in a rhetorical fashion, though the question did demand an answer. “Salvation or damnation? You have surely come to present me with one of them”

Santiago could not, of course, see her face, and if he did not know the truth about his captain being a woman, he would have sworn it was Bones who was talking and this was a night like any other, only his cabin where they used to spend the night debating matters both sacred and profane replaced with the empty deck and the starry sky.

The stars, too, were the same ones of old, but now they did not seem like sparkly omens of fortune, but rather like cold and distant diamonds of mockery, spectators to the lady’s misery.

“Neither” he answered as though it were the simplest thing in the world. “Such things are not mine to offer”

“But you are a priest…”

“And a common mortal” Santiago interrupted, hands fondling the beads of the rosary around his neck in an affectionate way. Compared to what it represented, together with the Bible under his arm, he could not stop feeling small and humble. “Why do you think I stayed?”

Morgan had no answer to give but only because she did not wish to. Obligation as a crewman, duty as a priest, pity as man. Those were all valid reasons and all equally insulting to Bonaventura Santiago, a man who deserved no offence. Instead, she asked him “Do you not judge me then?”

Santiago’s eyes searched the sky. For him, the stars were still stars, part of God’s beautiful work. They were not there to do His benevolent work or to mock, though he recognised they were pretty useful things to sailors and not mere adornments. With a last gulp, Morgan finished her whisky. Santiago liked to take his time thinking before answering difficult questions and she let him take his time, like always…

“Many a time I looked at you and a proud man was what I saw. After seeing the way you handled the situation earlier tonight, my lady, I know a proud woman such as yourself would not suffer the trouble of hiding her identity unless it could not be helped. Judging… Is god’s prerogative. I am but a man”

Morgan closed her eyes as though she did not wish vision to interfere with hearing so she could comprehend, record and save the quarter master’s words in full. They were the kindest words any man had addressed her, saved for her beloved father. She did not smile with her lips but her eyes did, when she opened them again and turned her head just enough to glance at Santiago, who understood this as a beckoning to step forward.

“If what you say is true, then you are the best man I know, Bonaventura Santiago”

“Kind words, my lady. But I’m afraid God may disagree with you…”

At that, Morgan did smile. Santiago was always troubled with the ancient dichotomy, asking himself if it was truly possible for a priest to be a pirate and for a pirate to be a priest. It seemed obvious at first - no. No, because pirates were thieves by definition and murderers by necessity and there they were, two capital offences to God. However, when looking past definitions found in any decent dictionary, beyond words, it was a corrupted world Santiago saw, and pirates were not the sole ones to blame for it. His existence was not a peaceful one but, then again, it couldn’t, with him being a man of the Church.

It should be told Santiago had never killed anybody. As a quarter master, he enjoyed great authority, his power rivalling Bones’s before the crew. But when war was upon the Adamastor, and as a quarter master should, he would drop his own voice of command and obey his captain who, decided to redeem the dear priest’s unsettled spirit as much as it was humanly possible, always ordered him to get away from the action and look after the wounded. This order he would only ignore when he absolutely must in order to protect himself or his captain, after which he would lock himself in the ship’s chapel and ask for clarity and forgiveness for attacking a fellow man.

“Ah, God… Tell me, my priest… Why has God forsaken me?”

There was nothing Morgan wanted more than cry. Just cry the ocean she had inside out, even if she knew there would be no benefit in doing so. She blamed herself for her foolishness, for daring to dream it was possible for a woman to make it in a world of men, for putting herself in a dangerous position not many lunatics would - a woman concealed among dozens of men, placing herself on top, incurring on their wrath. She could still count her blessings and consider herself lucky to be alive or unscathed, for the men could have responded to her boldness with the worst kind of violence any man could do to a woman.

Still, she blamed God as much as she blamed herself. Who had put that dream, the drive, that daring spirit inside her in the first place? No, that was not it. She resented God, that was more like it. He’d placed all of those things in her heart only to take all opportunities to do so away… Yet, Morgan did not wish to provoke divine anger and thus did not offer the skies harsh words and pointed fingers, knowing many would deem it selfish for a woman of fortune and noble birth to behave like a spoiled brat or cry like a martyr.

The priest did not blame her for the thought, guessing that he, too, would think the same in her situation. Just to think… Bones had commanded his crew with justice and honour. The Adamastor Pirates were making a name for themselves as a crew more menacing than it should be when no crewmate possessed the powers of a Devil Fruit - it didn’t stop being a feat when most pirates went after the fruits. And after everything… A foolish mistake she could not explain had revealed Milady Carnahan Morgan to the ship’s crew and killed Black Bones.

Santiago smiled. Under all that calmness and higher aura some clergymen had, he was truly sad about the recent events. But he had an answer, nevertheless.

"My child… Don’t you see? He has not forsaken you. He has chosen you”

Morgan ignored his patronising smile and let the priest walk away. Taking a look behind, she spotted young paraty walking as though dancing about, nervously awaiting the priest. She guessed he had been sent by the handful of crewmen who had remained by her side to gather information and perhaps tell them what would be of the crew from now on.

What of them indeed? She stared again at the stars… The constellations may be different, but they always reminded the lady of her home island and its glorious black crown of glittering minerals… Shipwreck was all that was left for her now.

The Adamastor was hers - she had challenged any and every men who had wanted to take it from her to come forth and try her and none had dared - but she could not man it alone. A priest, a boy and a couple of able bodied sailors didn’t make a crew… The vessel required more manpower. Morgan did not know about her loyal companions, each now to his own fate, a fate she could not order and that she would not condemn, but she knew of herself.

In the morning, she would recruit a temporary crew to take her and the Adamastor home in exchange for a ship, which she would order from the local shipwrights and pay with her own money - the part that the quarter master had given her after sharing the treasure equally among every member of the crew before their departure, as ordered by the captain’s fleshy ghost.

Morgan knew Shipwreck could not be her finally destination. She was not ready to say goodbye to the sea and stay home just yet, waiting for the day her father would die and she would become Lady of the island. She would find another way to have her own adventures.

#long post for ts #❤ [development]#❤ [development / drabble]

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chiyalawritesrewind · 7 years

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Rewind, Chapter 18

Fanfic: [ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] [ch6] [ch7] [ch8] [ch9] [ch10] [ch11] [ch12] [ch13] [ch14] [ch15] [ch16] [ch17] [ch18 on AO3] [ch18 on ffn]

Podfic: [ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5] (Rest coming soon)

Pairing: Gratsu - Gray Fullbuster / Natsu Dragneel ; Acnologia / Zeref

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Major Character Death; Graphic Depiction of Violence

Summary: When a mission turns out to be fatal for one of the team members, Natsu finds himself being given another chance to change the events.

Additional information: weekly updates; every Sunday.

Beta by @serpenttailedangel and @wildrhov <333

Tagging list: @f-r-f-t @truedreamchasing @mushi0131 @eitomagical @thatartcorner @eternalsterekbitches @becausewhenyoupracticeyouimprove @oliversantics @nekodemon73 @moonlustelara @pantykawa (if somebody else wants to be tagged [or not tagged anymore] in the future, please let me know!)

Notes: A whole day in one chapter again, wohooo! The shortest chapter of the whole fic!

Trigger warning for this chapter: Suicide!

This was originally planned as a 'joker chapter' for myself if I ever have a writer's block and don't want to endanger the weekly updates. It somehow evolved into a key chapter plot-wise.

I may sound like Satan if I say 'enjoy', so I'll go ahead and do it: Enjoy!

Day 10

Natsu's eyes opened wide the second he awoke, staring blankly at the white ceiling.

'I killed him.'

He didn't have the energy to scream or cry anymore; he'd done all those things after he'd killed Gray. It was no use. No amount of screaming or crying would erase his guilt.

'I killed the one I love, the one I swore to protect. He said he trusted me. I betrayed his trust.'

Natsu felt despicable. Promising Gray to save his life and then doing the exact opposite. He didn't deserve to live, didn't have the right to see Gray ever again. He was unworthy of Gray's love. Unworthy of living.

This had to end. Anybody else would be better suited for this task.

Natsu turned onto his side, grabbing the diary and a pen. He put the key onto his bedside table. He wouldn't need it anymore.

To Jellal and Ultear,

When you read this, I will be dead. Please respect my last wish: Keep it that way. Overwrite the point of return by another one at around nine. Give the task of saving Gray to somebody else. I killed Gray. I can't do this.

So this was it. Natsu never would've thought that his life would end like this. He never would've thought he'd one day be responsible for Gray's death. Not only because he'd actively killed him the previous time, but because he hadn't been able to prevent it the other eight times as well. And he wouldn't ever be. He was guilty. He deserved nothing less than death.

Without bothering to get dressed, he opened his window as silently as he could, not wanting to wake Happy. He wandered around barefoot, only in his boxers. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. His destination was Fairy Hills. There were some high cliffs. One of those would do.

His mind replayed the scene of him pushing Gray into his own sword over and over again until he reached the edge of a cliff that he deemed high enough.

'Sorry, Gray. I know this won't be easy for you, but I hope you'll get over my death eventually. Maybe reading what I've done to you will make it easier. I hope it does. Goodbye, my only love.'

Natsu closed his eyes and took a step forward.

Natsu’s Diary

Day 10

To Jellal and Ultear,

(Author: Gray)

Jellal stormed into the guild hall this morning, forwarding a call from Ultear to me. She was alarmed and told me the whole story, including what happened the previous time. Jellal informed her of what happened, and that it was not your fault.

He said it all happened too fast, you didn't have time to react, let alone stop your momentum. You may have pushed me into a sword, but it wasn't your fucking fault! Judging from what I've heard and read in your diary, I'd rather say it was fated to happen that way from the start.

I'm alive. Yet here I am, sitting next to your dead body. I've been here for some hours already. Both Porlyusica and Wendy tried to bring you back but we found you too late. Laxus tried to restart your heart with electric shocks, but it was useless.

I can barely see anything anymore and my throat is sore. I can't believe you did this. Ultear won't overwrite the point of return. You'll live again, and this time please respect my wish, even if it's not my last one: live on. You may think that you've failed on all fronts and that you're responsible for my death, but you clearly are not a failure, Natsu. You're not! None of this is your fault, I would never blame you no matter how many times it takes or what things you have to do to right this. So just please, live on!

I'm not saying this because I love you and I'm selfish. I'm saying this because you've tried everything to save me, everything you possibly could. You're working your ass off to save me and forgot yourself and your own health over it. I don't know how this could be interpreted as anything else but selflessness. You're not guilty, no matter how you look at it.

As for the accident of the previous time: it was just that, an accident. Realistically, it doesn't change anything. Ultear turned back time, I'm alive again, we get to try to prevent my death on our own. And let me tell you, we will still try. Because if we can prevent it this time, I'll write the solution into your diary and you'll see it once the day starts anew. You would be liberated from your grim but selfless duty. That's what I want the most: for your suffering to end.

And NOT by you committing suicide!

I beg you, don't kill yourself again. Do it for me. I know you're already doing everything for me... but, please. Don't throw away your life. It's precious, not only to you, but to everyone around you as well. You'd leave a gaping hole behind in the hearts of our friends, our family. Don't do this to us, please. Let me be your reason to live.

I believe in you, and I always have. The prophecy says that you have to save me, that you have to form a bond with me. I read that we considered marriage as an option. I read that I declined the idea and that you accepted my boundaries. But right now, I think that I was an idiot. I'd rather marry you right away than lose you forever. You've clearly lost all hope, and I want nothing more than to give it back to you.

I love you so much, I don't know what to do with myself.

Life without you will be possible... but it's pointless. This grief, sitting here next to your cold body, is so horrible, it makes me almost glad that this day will be rewritten and forgotten, even though it likely means I'll die. It makes me not even care about that, because I can't imagine living into tomorrow without you here. I hope I completely forget this pain, as well as the memories of seeing the tears on the faces of all our friends.

It should be YOU forced to see them, Natsu. You! If only so you'd realize how precious you are to all of us... and to me.

So please... God, please don't make me go through this again.

I honestly don't know what else I can say or do for you but this: beg you to be strong, to keep working hard, even if that's greedy of me. Please keep fighting, Natsu. Please don't let me be the reason you give up on life again.

(Author: Lucy)

I'm so sorry, but we couldn't save Gray's life. Freed set up a rune shield all around us, preventing outsiders from manipulating Gray in any way. Laxus sent electric shocks right to his heart that weren't strong enough to kill him but strong enough to confuse his heart to a point where it would lose its rhythm. Porlyusica and Wendy were here all the while, supervising the whole thing. It didn't work.

Gray didn't fully let it on in his text just how devastated he actually was. He went on a rampage. It took Erza, Freed, Laxus, Mirajane, and me to stop him. Don't do this to him again. Don't do this to all of us. We love you. We'll help you get over your trauma. We'll always be there for you. But right now, we have no other choice than to put our faith in you. Please save Gray. And please let yourself be saved by us.

Mirajane’s Notes

Day 10

Natsu apparently caused Gray's death the previous time according to Ultear (Gray's using a communication lacrima to talk to her). We'll go check on Natsu now. If I don't add anything after this, something must have gone terribly wrong.

#Chiyalawritesrewind #gratsu #feed me with your tears #I cried too much while writing this #please tell me I'm not the only one who cried #tw: suicide #tw: death

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muslimmommyusa-blog · 7 years

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Activist Spotlight: Amara Majeed, A FEMINIST Voice for the Hijab

As a Muslim revert it could become difficult to grasp the idea of having an individual identity while wearing the hair cover, or "Hijab." Over the years since 9/11, the Hijab has gained the preconceived notion of great oppression toward Muslim women - as a sign of degradation, or forced cult ruling, silencing the wearers of their voices, and stripping them of their rights to express their identity and individuality.

As a mother, alhumdulillah, I often contemplate on how I may educate my daughters about the Hijab, as well as how they can help enlighten those who they will encounter in the future, who have questions about the veil. I also often think about whether or not the way the Western culture's views on the Hijab will change for the better, or if I should prepare my children for the worse.

However the Western world sees it, Muslim women all over the world are doing their best to change these presumptions that many non-Muslims have been lead to believe. Such as the case of my friend, with whom I had the great pleasure of doing a quick Q&A with.

You may have read her Open Letter to Donald Trump, or may have even seen her quick video on NowThis. She has been noted by BBC as one of the 100 Most Inspiring Women of 2015, Ms. Amara Majeed. Amara is a 19 year old, Brown student, and proud Hijab activist doing what she can to contribute with the elimination of the negative stigma behind the Hijab - and ultimately the Muslim women who wear them, as well as the the religion it is practiced in.

Amara and I met through a Facebook group in May of 2014, while she was in the process of writing her book, The Foreigners. Through our conversations, I've come to learn of her easy going personality, quick wit, politeness, her good attitude, honesty, intuitiveness, and most of all Islam - her passion, mashaAllah. She has so much insight and sentiment when it came to her views, and revealed her yearning to change the world's views of Muslims along with the Hijab, and stated:

"I really want people to read this book and understand Muslims better, in order to end this hateful discrimination that many people have towards us. We live in the era of Islamophobia, and I feel that if people learn about Muslims, their struggles, etc, then perhaps they will be more understanding/less hateful towards them."

Here is Good Morning America's video spotlight of Amara. If you scroll down, you can see what kind of feedback, and how much backlash we are experiencing from what crazy, self-righteous, entitled people have decided to act upon.

Here are some samples of the unbelievable hatred our fellow Americans are expressing towards someone who has taken upon herself to carry on the very Constitutional rights we have been granted as American citizens:

Everyday since 9/11, we as Muslim Americans have been at fault, when most of us are trying to live our lives like everybody else - raising good, pious children, going through school, performing mundane tasks at home, or even running businesses that employ non-Muslims. We have been accused, and are still being accused of crimes these people have committed - what happened on 9/11, Sandy Hook, or even in Orlando.

I make these statements because I have gathered from what "news" I get from the TV has shown me, that anytime there is a shooting, or an act of violence occurs, I find myself at the edge of my seat, listening to reporters, asking live: "Is this an act of terror?"

Let's all be honest here, when the airwaves are live, and the word "terror" is broadcasted to the general public of the USA, people, including myself, my family and peers, wonder this same resounding thought: "was the attacker Muslim?"

The Qur'an teaches ALL Muslims to defend:

"Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for God loveth not transgressors. (The Noble Quran, 2:190)"

Unfortunately, these few decided to take justice in their own hands. (Sigh...)

As a Muslim, I do my best not to judge people based on the color of their skin, the way they dress or speak, because of this fact:

Narrated Al-Ma'rur: At Ar-Rabadha I met Abu Dhar who was wearing a cloak, and his slave, too, was wearing a similar one. I asked about the reason for it. He replied, "I abused a person by calling his mother with bad names." The Prophet said to me, 'O Abu Dhar! Did you abuse him by calling his mother with bad names You still have some characteristics of ignorance. Your slaves are your brothers and Allah has put them under your command. So whoever has a brother under his command should feed him of what he eats and dress him of what he wears. Do not ask them (slaves) to do things beyond their capacity (power) and if you do so, then help them." (Translation of Sahih Bukhari, Belief, Volume 1, Book 2, Number 29)

So without further a-do, our Q&A with Sr. Amara Majeed (un-edited).

Could you tell our readers about your background - your family history, values, who you are?

My name is Amara Majeed, and I am a 19-year-old Muslim American student at Brown University. I am of Sri Lankan origin.

When you and I first started having conversations about your mission to make a change, a positive impact, I thought "wow" what a feat to conquer! Did you have any fears and doubts? How did you prepare yourself to overcome those fears and doubts?

I actually get this question a lot! To be honest, I'm a really impulsive and spontaneous person. When I want to do something, I do it without overthinking the consequences and the aftermath.

Can you tell us what the Hijab means to you?

Sure. Throughout history and on a global scale, women have been sexualized and objectified. As women, a lifelong struggle that we have is that our physical appearance is deemed to be the most important aspect of our beings. For me, the hijab is a political symbol, a feminist symbol, and a social motif. By wearing the hijab, I'm stating that I want to be seen for my intellectuality and my personality rather than my physical appearance or body.

(Sure enough, when asked in an interview with GMA what the words #girlpower means to her, Amara defines it as:

"Essentially showing the world that we, females are powerful not despite, but because of our gender.")

You're the self published author of The Foreigners, can you tell us what prompted you to write this book; what was your inspiration?

I wanted to inform people about the diversity of the Muslim experience.

How did your parents feel about you being so forthcoming and public about your mission to enlighten people who have their reservations toward the Hijab?

My parents have been very supportive throughout my years of being an activist, but they've been understandably concerned and apprehensive about me being so outspoken about polarizing topics.

So, please tell us, when did you start wearing your Hijab?

I started wearing the hijab when I was 14 and a freshman in high school.

What is the most common "misnomer" or misconception that you've heard someone tell you about being a Hijabi or wearing the Hijab?

From my years as an activist, it's become very apparent to me that many Americans hold the idea that women that wear the hijab are oppressed.

How does wearing your Hijab solidify your identity as a Muslim woman?

The hijab is a massive part of my identity, and it means something much more to me beyond religion.

And to many Muslim women, the Hijab means freedom and control over what other people sees of her - her hair, her skin - denoting that the very first thing another person should know about a Muslim woman is her intellect.

I hope, I've given you insight from this post. And just for the record, these acts of violence 'in the name of Islam' are not at all Islamic:

"Nor take life -- which Allah has made sacred -- except for just cause. And if anyone is slain wrongfully, we have given his heir authority (to demand retaliation or to forgive): but let him not exceed bounds in the matter of taking life, for he is helped (by the Law)." [Quran 17:33]

"“What actions are most excellent? To gladden the heart of human beings, to feed the hungry, to help the afflicted, to lighten the sorrow of the sorrowful, and to remove the sufferings of the injured.” (Bukhari)" -- Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings of Allah be to him

Amara Majeed is a 19-year-old Muslim American activist. She is the founder of "The Hijab Project," a global initiative that promotes the understanding and empowerment of Muslim women through social experimentation. Amara and her project have been featured by numerous media sources, including but not limited to Good Morning America, Bustle, The New York Times, Global News, BBC, MSNBC, The Baltimore Sun, Business Insider, Marie Claire Magazine, Yahoo!, and Seventeen Magazine. Miss Majeed is currently a pre-law student at Brown University, pursuing a double major in Cognitive Neuroscience and Public Policy.

Is there an inspiring person in your life? Comment below and tell us why they inspire you!

#activist #feminist #girlpower #feminism

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