I don’t have any pre-title adjectives attached to my name. In other words, I haven’t been called brilliant, haven’t been nominated, celebrated, acclaimed, or given a trophy for something.
Oh, Muhammad ﷺ my love for you is infinite!
If I could rewind time, I would make my way to you.
My love for you is not like a wildflower
that blooms precipitously in a few days or hours;
Allison Hong’s book is mesmerizing and gut wrenching. Any one (especially women) who has felt the stab of betrayal, knows what Allison is going through.
Perhaps all things are beings, waiting for the right key to be turned at the right time, and we are but frustrated midwives, randomly trying different keys at different times to release them.
In the name of progress, progressives have enforced new binary categories. Voicing disagreement is similarly branded. Accusations fly. Asking questions, challenging, identifying absurdities like insisting on terms like chest feeding – you are an enemy. The Right is quick to pick it up and use it. If you aren’t with us, you are against us.