Sekka Fall | Winter 2022: The Neo-Arabs by Sekka

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Editor-In-Chief Manar Alhinai Managing Editor Sharifah Alhinai Art Director Maya Al Moukayed Cover Image Adham Alsaiaari (Photographer) Farangiz Masumova (Graphic designer) Featured Personalities Fatma Ali Abed, Amani Al-Khatatbeh, Osamah Al-Shubbar, Abdulaziz Al Hosni, Marwa Al Kalbani, Dana Al Rashid, Khalid Al Shaqsi, Ali Al Sharji, Ali Al Shehabi, Zainab Alradhi, Yara Ayoob, Rakan Hamad, Nagham Khader, Ishaq Madan, Dean Majd, Enas Sistani, Abu Shaheem and Khayal. Contributing Writers Abdullah Al-Ameeri, Amna Alharmoodi, Maha Kadi, Maryam Malik and Shahd Thani. Intern Sadeem Al-Qorashi About: Sekka is an independent publication and integrated creative platform that is dedciated to arts, culture, literature and opinions from the Arab world, with a focus on the Arab Gulf States. It has been published since 2017 to share the rich stories of the region and amplify the voices of its people. Copyright: © 2022 Sekka Ltd. All rights reserved. Neither this publication or any part of it may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of Sekka Ltd. Sekka is published three times a year by Sekka Ltd., a company registered in London, the United Kingdom. For corrections, please e-mail editorial@sekkamag.com.

Disclaimer: The views of contributors and those featured in Sekka are their own, and do not reflect the views and opinions of Sekka, its parent company, its owners, employees and affiliates. ISSN 2754-432X (Print) ISSN 2754-4338 (Online) Subscriptions: To find out how to subscribe to Sekka, please visit www.sekkamag.com.

We still remember sitting in the car six years ago, frustrated at how Arabs continue to be misrepresented by international media. Our discussion arose by way of coincidence, but little did we know then that our careers were about to take on a new direction. We realised then and there that being frustrated will not be enough to solve the problem. If we wanted something to change, we needed to do our part. If we believed in anything, we believed in the power of the written word, and because there was an evident gap in the international media front for a media brand that would step up and provide an authentic narrative to one of the most important, yet misunderstood, regions in the world, we knew we had to do something about it. Luckily, many of our Arab counterparts shared our frustration. Many wanted to read stories about their region written by people who were from or had lived there for a significant amount of time. Many sought authentic narratives and representation. Being the founders of Sekka has been more than just a job for us. It wasn’t just about founding a media brand and sharing content. It became a mission, and our inspiration to look for different and new avenues to share and celebrate art, culture and literature stories and voices from the region to the world.

website and a brand that celebrates our region’s rich culture and creative scenes through our different artistic and cultural programmes and events that, with the help of our partners, we are able to execute around the region. Central to all our programmes, projects and content have been the new generations of Arabs, those who were raised by parents who were born before the mass development that took place thanks to the discovery of oil, especially in sub-regions within the Arab world, such as the Arab Gulf States. Their creative drive, and their passion for their crafts, continue to inspire our team, and thus we decided to dedicate this issue to them. We started planning this issue, the way we always do, with a question. What does it mean to be an Arab in 2022? Through our pages, we explore how the new generation of Arabs, in particular, are celebrating the old in new ways and expanding beyond what has been familiar to the generations prior. We examine how they are holding onto, expressing and reinventing their Arab identity. We sit down and discuss with them why they believe it’s important, now more than ever, to celebrate their identity and culture with people from around the world. We introduce you to the neo-Arabs. Turn the page to meet them.

What started as a conversation born out of frustration, grew to become one of the leading independent media companies focused on the Arab world, a print magazine, a

From Mastoor's Desert Caravan Collection 2020. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

Words by Sharifah Alhinai

TACKLING RACISM ONE POEM AT A TIME

Abdullah Al-Ameeri. Image courtesy of Abdullah Al-Ameeri.

32-year-old Abdullah Al-Ameeri, who is more well known as Digital Abdullah on social media, is one of the Arab world’s young emerging poets. Like many of his generation, the Bahraini national publishes his work, which centres on themes of love, mortality, nature, mental health, social activism and personal growth, on his social media channels.

In 2019, Al-Ameeri published a poem titled ‘I Hear You,’ which revolves around the racism he experienced at the hands of his teacher, amongst others, when he was a child. The poem is dedicated to AlAmeeri’s younger self, whom he tries to comfort and console. ‘I Hear You,’ which is published in the literature section of this issue, marked the first time that AlAmeeri opened up about this topic, and several other poems that revolve around racism and Black identity followed, such as ‘Untitled’ and ‘Invitations,’ to positive interactions from his peers. Tackling racism and expressing pride in one’s Black identity through poetry has become one of the things that Al-Ameeri is known for today to his growing readership. I spoke to the young poet about his literary beginnings, the challenge of opening up about the racism he experienced growing up, and the responsibility he feels today as an Afro-Arab poet. This interview has been edited for the purposes of length and clarity. Describe the beginnings of your literary journey. What first sparked your interest in expressing

yourself through literature, and why poetry, in particular? AA: I think I’ve always been a good writer. From my early days in school, I was that one kid in the class who would ask for an extra paper during writing activities, but somehow, it took me till my mid-20’s to be fully dedicated to writing. Before poetry, I used to write news for gaming websites, but after that path came to an end, I found myself equipped with new skills, a lot of free time, and infinite thoughts and ideas to express. In real life, I’m a man of few words. I would describe my way of communicating as saying more with less, and that led me directly to poetry, because it is a craft where not only you say more with less, but also say it with carefully curated words that deliver sonically pleasing results. Who are some of the poets and writers that you look up to? AA: The first poet that comes to mind is Robert Frost. Many of my favourite poems are written by him, and I tried mimicking his style early on. Another would be Gil Scott-Heron. When my writing was growing, he was a great inspiration because of his way of tackling social and political issues beautifully. I’m also heavily inspired by hip-hop. I consider rap-

pers to be the best modern-day poets. The ones that I look up to the most are Tupac Shakur and Rakim. They both revolutionised music with their incredible storytelling and powerful delivery skills that I want to get better and better at. Why the name ‘Digital Abdullah’ on social media? AA: The idea first came to me while studying binary systems in computer science. The word digital came up a lot in the books, and I picked it up from there. The reason I thought it suits me is that people have referred to me as robotic or robot-like since I was a kid because I only said a few words and rarely laughed or showed emotions. You could say that Digital Abdullah is an alias representing how I was (and still am) seen by others. A number of your poems revolve around racism that you experienced for being Black, and about Black identity. How challenging did you find it to write about these topics (if at all), and why do you think it is important to do so? AA: Writing about racism and anti-Blackness is challenging for many reasons. The first one is personal, what I experienced since I was a child was soul

crushing, it affected me in many ways. The first time I wrote a poem about these issues was in 2019, through ‘I Hear You.’ It was the first time I found myself crying not only while writing the poem, but also while performing it at a poetry night and afterwards. It was then that I knew how deeply hurt I am by the things that happened to me and continue to happen to other Black people around me, which brings me to the second reason why it’s a challenge to write about it. It’s not an issue that people normally talk about, and I’ll go as far as to say that the majority of people deny the very existence of racism and anti-Blackness in our societies. It became my mission to speak about it in my work, share the stories and experiences that society keeps sweeping under the rugs, and show that these issues are so deeply rooted in the Arab world. What does it mean to be an Afro-Arab poet today? What do you hope to highlight to a global audience through your work, especially since you write in English? Why is that important? AA: Personally, I feel that being an Afro-Arab poet means that I carry a responsibility of not only telling the unique stories and experiences of being Black in the Arab world, but also challenging the stereotypes

and expectations that come with having Black skin. I must also insist that there are countless different Black Arab identities and backgrounds. I only happen to represent mine. I want everyone in the world to read my poems. Reaching a wide audience is important to me. It's one of the main reasons I choose to write in English, for it’s a more universal language, and I did get feedback for my poetry from different parts of the world, from India to Sweden, Nigeria to the United States. My work is global. What are your dreams and ambitions for your literary work?

What has been the most rewarding part of literary journey? AA: I think the most rewarding thing for me is seeing how my poems touched people’s hearts and made them feel heard and understood. I received a lot of messages from people admitting they related to the story I shared in my poem ‘I Hear You.’ This very special human connection always reminds me of why I write, not for money and fame, but to touch someone’s heart.

AA: I want to grow and learn more about writing, not only poetry but other forms as well. I dream of writing a poetry book, one that is a collection of my best works, and another that follows a specific concept. I’m also interested in writing screenplays and have ambitions to see a marriage between my poetry and filmmaking. Lastly, my biggest dream is to write a comprehensive story that covers topics I care about, like race, culture, environment and music, and I hope that this story ends up earning global recognition that I know I’m capable of earning.

Words by Manar Alhinai

MASTOOR IS MAKING MODEST MENSWEAR COOL

From Mastoor's Andalusia Collection. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

Over the last decade, social media has paved the way for modest womenswear blogs and influencers to rise. Modest fashion is about dressing in fashion garments aligned with one’s religious beliefs or preferred way of dressing. Though currently associated with Muslim women, men from various religious and cultural backgrounds are opting for modest fashion.

According to the State of the Global Islamic Economy Report 2020/21, the modest fashion industry is valued at USD 277 billion and estimated to grow to USD 311 billion by 2024. Top fashion houses such as Tory Burch and Burberry introduced special collections to cater to the growing modest wear market segment. In 2017, Nike introduced a sports hijab. Though modest womenswear continues to see a surge in demand, there is still room to cater to modest menswear. The common image that comes to mind when thinking of modest menswear is a thobe, a long dress worn by Arab and Muslim men. Mastoor, which means covering a body with modesty in Arabic, is on a mission to cater to men looking for modest clothing. Co-founded by Moroccan-Dutch husband-and-wife duo Abu Shaheem and Umm Uways in 2019, the Amsterdam-based fashion brand is inspired by the limitations in the range of menswear today, and is on a mission to introduce stylish menswear designed with Islamic guidelines in mind. In the following interview, Abu Shaheem recounts the beginnings of building Mastoor, the global reactions to their fashion collections and their brand as-

pirations. This interview was edited for the purposes of length and clarity. How did your Afro-European background affect your fashion design process? AS: We were in search of menswear that could fit in both worlds. Imagine going to the mosque with traditional clothing and going back to work (office or wherever), where the Western society doesn’t share the same values or guidelines when it comes to clothing. We wanted to create something that could fit in both worlds without denying our identity and ethics. How does your modest fashion collection differ from what is currently offered in the market? AS: Western society has a notion that only Muslim women are obliged to cover themselves and their private parts. But the fact is that concealing specific parts of the body goes for men and women. The body parts that should be covered are called awrah in Arabic. We currently offer a wide range of sustainable and fashionable garments within the guidelines that cover the awrah. For example, the practical use of

our denims and worker pants for making the prayer actions more comfortable. Second, our t-shirts and sweaters are all loose fit and have an extended fit in comparison to regular shirts and sweaters in the market. Around the Ramadan and Eid seasons, we offer exclusive thobes in unique fabrics and colours. What differentiates our brand is the sustainable perspective that we derive from our religion. We believe that there is no aesthetics without ethics. Arabic has a lot of words for beauty, from jamal to baha, malaha and many others. Each one of these words focuses on a different aspect, but the highest form is husn. Husn is beauty that comes from doing good. True beauty cannot come from ugly deeds. Mastoor holds these ethics high. All of our products are made in limited quantities to reduce the ecological footprint and to have as little unnecessary stock as possible. And when making the garments, we aim for minimal waste. Another aspect in which we differ is that we control and follow the chain from sourcing fabrics to manufacturing, packaging to logistics. We are not 100 per cent sustainable but, by the will of Allah, that is the aim we aspire to achieve.

And finally, what sets us apart is that we are a storytelling brand that wants to contribute to spreading Islamic inspired stories, history and knowledge. But also, to contribute to more awareness when it comes to honest clothing and being kind to nature. Where do you derive inspiration for your designs from? AS: Our inspiration comes from natural elements that Allah has blessed us with. If you look at our collections, they all represent the blessings that we tend to overlook or take for granted on a daily basis. For example: trees, mountains, water, the sun and moon. We also share stories of our rich Islamic heritage, for example, within the Andalusia Collection, or our AnNahl Capsule, which is inspired by the bees that are giving us the example of how to live as an ummah, or nation, in harmony. How have reactions been to Mastoor so far, from Muslims and non-Muslims alike? AS: The feedback that we get is more than positive from Muslims who are seeking fashionable cloth-

From Mastoor's Desert Caravan Collection 2020. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

From Mastoor's Andalusia Collection 2021. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

From Mastoor's Moonsight Collection 2022. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

ing based on an Islamic perspective. We also receive great reactions from non-Muslims who are looking for something different to wear. We don’t want to set limits to only serve Muslims. It’s for everyone to wear, and we are grateful to contribute to dressing men appropriately and modestly. Why is men’s modest fashion important? AS: We think that a brand like Mastoor is offering diversity in a cosmopolitan fashion industry, and the right way to do it for us is not to wait until somebody presents it for us and to us as a community. We experienced that it is a privilege to use our knowledge and God-given talent to create something of our own where we can identify ourselves as Muslims and feel proud of it when wearing it. How important is it for you that fashion showcases your Muslim identity in today’s world? AS: For us, it’s very important that fashion showcases our Muslim identity, to be proud of that identity and yet to present ourselves in a decent way with modesty and piety.

What are your future goals and ambitions for Mastoor? AS: We hope to keep creating beautiful garments for men but hopefully for women and children in the future. We would love to create more possibilities that fit in our vision of being more than only a clothing brand but to be an asset to the Muslim community in many ways. We hope that in the future, we can contribute to employment possibilities, charity programs, awareness projects and empowering our Muslim youth to strive for a halal way of living and entrepreneurship.

From Mastoor's Andalusia Collection 2021. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

From Mastoor's Moonsight Collection 2022. Image courtesy of Mastoor.

Words by Manar Alhinai

CHANGING THE WAY THE WORLD SEES ARAB CULTURE

Days Are Long But Nights Are Longer by Ali Al Shehabi.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and in the case of stereotypes, a picture could present a culture in a way that is far from the truth, and which can result in harm. This has been the case for Arabs as a group. It’s not uncommon to hear Arabs frustrated at the way international media, television shows and films continue to portray them in the light of terrorism and backwardness.

But three young Bahraini creatives, Ishaq Madan, Yara Ayoob and Ali Al Shehabi, appreciate that their photos can speak tens of thousands of words, and have decided to take matters into their own hands and challenge these negative stereotypes through what they know best: the camera and social media. To many, the small kingdom, which borders Saudi Arabia, has historically been known as a pearl diving hub, its people’s friendly nature and its rich history. In the last few years, however, it has witnessed an increased rise of a young generation of artists and photographers who strive to showcase elements of its rich culture on an international scale through various creative mediums. With the help of social media, they have been able to attract viewers from around the world. Madan, Ayoob and Al Shehabi are part of this generation that has garnered regional and international attention, and are using photography as a medium to battle misconceptions about Arabs by highlighting elements of their rich Bahraini culture. What drives these three photographers to continue sharing elements of their culture with a global audience on their social media pages and beyond? How do they continue to shatter stereotypes and how has the international audience responded to their conceptual work? They walk me through their journeys. The interviews have been edited for the purposes of length and clarity.

ISHAQ MADAN

Youth and culture are central in the works of the 29-year-old Bahraini photographer, whose work featuring traditional Bahraini drummers is one of the first art pieces you will encounter when you land at Bahrain’s International Airport. 34

A portait of Ishaq Madan by Ishaq Madan.

Bahrain - Wicked Games feat Angela Costa by Ishaq Madan.

Recently, Madan gained further attention when a photograph featuring two young Bahraini men dressed in traditional thobe (a dress worn by Arab men) while skateboarding in front of Bahrain’s Youth Road, was featured by Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art (MoMa) Photo Club, and displayed on posters in subway stations across the city. Madan aims to battle misconceptions about Arab culture through his work, and believes that Arab photographers have an important role to play when it comes to challenging negative stereotypes about them that continue to infiltrate international media. What drives you to focus on sharing elements of your Bahraini and Arab culture through your work? IM: As I grow more mature in my photography practice, I realise the importance of creating and sharing elements of my culture as opposed to insignificant visual imagery that holds no value in the greater discourse of things. Further exploring elements of my culture has been quite rewarding as it has also helped me understand myself and the world around me better.

What role do young photographers from the Arab region have when it comes to battling misconceptions through their work? IM: Young photographers have a significant role to play in correcting misconceptions. Their works could converse between the young and older generations, creating an informed bond of understanding and sparking positive change. The world today is still filled with bitterness and ignorance, which is quite frightening. What young photographers can bring to the table are powerful messages that defy ignorant standards imposed by the mainstream media. As your creative career progresses, what part of your Bahraini and Arab culture would you like to further share with an international audience, and why is this important? IM: The thobe and ghitra [head covering worn by men in various parts of the Arab world] play a central role in a majority of my work. Over the years, I have noticed how disrespected it is and often associated with either terrorism or extreme wealth, which frankly is not the case. I have also often wondered why we do not see Arabs wearing the thobe in the West in

Bahrain Bloom by Ishaq Madan.

Bahrain - Shabab Al Mustaqbel by Ishaq Madan. This image was displayed by the MoMa Photo Club.

Bahrain - Dial One For Eidkm Mbarek feat Yara Ayoob by Ishaq Madan.

Previous spread, image on right: Bahrain Hurry Up We're Dreaming Now by Ishaq Madan.

comparison to other traditional clothing worn by other communities living abroad. Is it because we fear being ridiculed or verbally abused? As such, I like to reflect a more playful and welcoming experience through my visual imagery. Do you believe that photography can smash stereotypes? IM: To this day, we seem to be placed under a subtle narrative of ‘Arab bad,’ ‘Arab exotic’ and similar connotations that only do more harm than good. Ironically, during my time in England last year, a lecturer, during a conversation, subtly implied that I had an ‘oil well in my backyard’. Such statements can tell you a lot about how our region and the people in the region are viewed abroad. That being said, young photographers need to be self-aware and deliberate with the messages they are trying to convey. Unfortunately, trends such as ‘Arabian Nights’ on TikTok further damage and validate the way the West views the East, which tells us we still have a long way to go in unlearning and being accountable for what we share. Edward Said would be extremely disappointed if he were still here with us.

YARA AYOOB

Amongst her 94 thousand followers on Instagram, Ayoob has become known as the go-to person for all things brows-related, especially after the 25-year-old Dubai based Bahraini content creator and makeup artist became Benefit Middle East’s Regional Brow Artist and spokesperson in 2019. 44

Desert Scarecrow by Yara Ayoob.

Never Enough Teapots by Yara Ayoob.

But beyond her cosmetics expertise, what has also made her stand out amongst the virtual crowds — aside from her ability to achieve the perfect brows — is her commitment to representing Bahraini, and wider Khaleeji (Arab Gulf) culture, by wearing abayat al-Ras in many of the quirky photoshoots that she regularly holds to produce beauty (and non-beauty) related social media content. Abayat al-Ras is a loose-fitting usually black cloak that women across the Gulf region have worn for centuries. What distinguishes it in style from the black cloak, or abaya, that is more commonly worn by Khaleeji women today is that abayat al-Ras — as its name in Arabic suggests — rests on the head rather than on the shoulders. In addition, it is usually worn by older generations of Gulf women, and is noticeably less popular amongst young women who opt for more fashion-forward abayat (plural of abaya) that rests on the shoulders, or none at all. Through her photographs, which she takes by herself and with the help of her siblings, Ayoob’s sense of fashion and celebration of traditional garment, has served as an unconventional tool for her to break stereotypes with her international audience, who ap-

plaud her for creatively sharing part of her culture that they don’t see in international media. You continue to focus on covering elements from Bahrain’s culture, especially traditional clothing that the youth generally no longer wear. What motivates you? YA: Year after year, I feel closer to my culture — especially since I live away from it. What motivates me is my curiosity to always learn more about my culture and translate my learnings through the content I create. Every time I go back to Bahrain, specifically Manama Souq, I feel a wave of inspiration and a rush of adrenaline that makes me want to create and educate the world about our beautiful heritage. Whether it’s by wearing abayat al-Ras to take TikTok videos or posing with traditional accessories on Instagram; it sparks interest in viewers and instils some curiosity in them, making them want to learn more about our Khaleeji culture. Another reason why I focus on those elements is simply out of pure love for them. Every stitch tells a story. It makes me feel close to where I come from.

Yara Ayoob in abayat al-Ras. Image by Adham Alsaiaari. Graphic design by Farangiz Masumova.

As much of your growing audience is international, what message do you wish for your content to convey to them about your Bahraini and wider Arab culture? YA: The realness of our culture, the sense of community, the laughs, the smiles, the kindness and the peace; the overall values instilled in us from birth. However, in order to tackle misinformation to the Western audience, it is crucial for us to tackle misinformation within our own audiences first. Arab cinema is riddled with abuse against women, racism, misogyny, prejudice and the list goes on. We still have a lot of work to do in order for us to move forward as a society, both on- and off-screen. Young Arab filmmakers, creators, and photographers are doing an outstanding job in breaking those barriers already, and I’m excited to see them take global stages. I hope to be one of those pioneers as well. How has your focus on displaying Arab culture helped in breaking stereotypes with international audiences? YA: I’ve received countless messages from amazing women abroad telling me how shocked they were

to see an Arab hijab-wearing woman so differently than how their media portrays us to them. We can’t control everything people see, but we can only hope to be the difference in what they see. One post can make them question everything they’ve known about us, and that’s the mentality I have in my creative process. The small international audience I have enjoy our culture and find it beautiful. Being able to change one person’s perception in a positive way definitely has a domino effect and, hopefully, we’ll be able to break those stereotypes in the near future.

Being able to change one person’s perception in a positive way definitely has a domino effect.

ALI AL SHEHABI

For the 28-year-old photographer, venturing into photography was almost accidental. It all started in the summer of 2016, when he practised photography as an experimental hobby with friends, after borrowing a camera from his mother, an avid lover of photography. 52

Ali Al Shehabi. Image by Yazeed Ahmed.

Shortly after, the young photographer enjoyed photography so much that he dropped out of his petroleum engineering major, and pursued a visual arts major in Japan. Living abroad, away from home, made Al Shehabi realise how the Arab world is misunderstood. He thus made it his mission to move back to Dubai, where he lived at the time, and to showcase the Arab world in his photography, the way he believes it should be seen. To combat misconceptions about Arabs, Al Shehabi worked on the Men of the Pearl Series, which presents Arab men and masculinity culture in a new light. Like Madan, the series has been featured by MoMa Photo Club, as well as the Cortona on the Move Photography Festival in Saudi Arabia, CNN, and has been selected for the Arab Documentary Photography Program (ADPP) grant in association with the Arab Fund for Arts and Culture (AFAC), Magnum Photos and the Prince Claus Fund. Tell us about your latest series, Men of the Pearl. What was the inspiration behind it, and what do you hope to achieve through it? AA: My series, Men of the Pearl, started very spontaneously. I had stopped photography for about more

than a year due to the pandemic and not being able to explore my practice. I had moved to Bahrain in the summer of 2020 for the first time. Even though I am from Bahrain, I felt like a stranger in my own land, which made it very exciting. I enjoy going through my old family albums even from the times when I was not born, and seeing the photographs of the men in my family. The idea to me was to photograph Bahraini men in their households, surrounded by their belongings and memories that they carry. The pearl within the name represents the Kingdom of Bahrain, which has been known as the 'Pearl of the Gulf.' The project shines a spotlight on masculinity, vulnerability and home interiors that I find fascinating within the Arab world. All the people photographed are my friends, as the project is still fresh and growing. What does it mean to be an Arab photographer today? What do you hope to highlight to a global audience through your work, and why is that important? AA: I personally would like to highlight to a global audience that our region is full of warmth, love and a culture that needs to be tapped into and where

Ali Al Shehabi. Image by Abdullah Al Yarubi.

Portrait of Essa Al Hujairy from The Men of the Pearl Series by Ali Al Shehabi.

Portait of Salman Al Koheji, from The Men of the Pearl Series by Ali Al Shehabi.

Unity Side A by Ali Al Shehabi.

everyone is welcome. Personally, my work revolves around storytelling, reflection and sometimes humour without compromising the soul and core of our culture. It's a never-ending self-exploration within the culture, which I believe is important and beneficial to anyone in the practice. My aim is to make the viewer feel as though they were present in the space; a still moment of life.

I felt like a stranger in my own land, which made it very exciting.

Image on left: Portrait of Abdullah Bin Hindi from The Men of the Pearl Series by Ali Al Shehabi.

Words by Sharifah Alhinai

REPRESENTING MY CULTURE THROUGH MUSIC IS MY MISSION

Emirati singer Khayal. Image by itsara.ae.

‘I fantasise, dream and create.’ This is how Khayal describes his artistic approach. Born in London, the 21-year-old Emirati, whose stage name means imagination or fantasy in Arabic, is one of the Arab world’s new generation of singers, who blend western and eastern cultures together through their work.

With an album and more than ten English and Arabic singles under his belt so far, the young artist, whose songs are heavily inspired by his childhood experiences and fantasies, is keen to make an impact on the music industry, and he is well on his way to doing so. In 2020, he was the cover star of GQ Middle East, which has helped him establish his unique theatrical style, both in music videos and attire, that makes him stand out in the sea of talent.

seventeen, and I’ve been writing and teaching myself since then. But I have recently been a part of two amazing programmes that really helped me to develop and set up my brand and content as an artist. These are the Pearl Programme provided by Berklee Abu Dhabi, and the NUMOO Programme provided by NYU Abu Dhabi. Being a part of these programmes was such a reassurance to me; that I can be in my home, Abu Dhabi, and be appreciated and supported as an artist.

I spoke with Khayal about the beginnings of his music journey, his latest single, ‘Disco Pain’, and why it is important for him to represent his Arab culture through his work. This interview has been edited for the purposes of length and clarity.

Describe the beginnings of your music journey. What first sparked your interest in pursuing a music career?

Tell us something people don’t know about you. K: A lot of people think that I studied or was educated in music and art related subjects. But I’m actually almost done with a Bachelor's in clinical psychology, and will keep working to become a clinical psychologist in the future. However, I’m never letting go of my musical and artistic career. I believe that those two careers, that I’m pouring my efforts and heart into, keep getting me closer to my purpose in life. When it comes to my artistic and musical background and education, I’m mostly self-taught. My father gifted me a guitar when I was

K: As a child, I watched a lot of Disney movies. They were my source of inspiration and the reason I became the way I am today. Every character in these movies has a story to tell, and those stories were told through the way the characters were illustrated, their unforgettable colourful attire and their musical way of telling their stories. These movies welcomed me with songs that warmed my heart when it was cold outside, and led to visions that took me to where my subconscious felt safe to rest. Watching these movies, I started singing about my own life experiences — the good and the bad. The bad experiences always felt better released through music and performance. I used to make my own costumes. I became my own version of a character and sang my story at home. Then I discovered Miley Cyrus

Emirati singer Khayal. Image by Mariam Al Katheeri.

and Lady Gaga. That’s when I was introduced to pop culture and the music industry and all the magical possibilities they hold. I was like, ‘Oh! I can make the things that I naturally make, and share them with people.’ So, I asked my father for a guitar, and he really loved the idea of me being a musician since he was one himself when he was younger. I got my first guitar from my second home, London, and started teaching myself and writing out my emotions in the form of poetry that could be harmonised. What drives you artistically? K: At this moment, my music is heavily inspired by my fantasies. I have a child within me that still has the urge to become this character. To live this life. To create this, be a part of that and lead my story from there. So right now, I’m listening to this voice. Because I owe it a dream. When you listen to my current music or my future works, you’ll notice that I’m not sticking to a genre or a certain approach yet. This is me following this voice in my heart and giving it what it needs right now. What is your favourite work of yours? Why? K: My favourite work of mine is my latest song, ‘Disco Pain.’ I was going through a very challenging phase when I wrote this song. I remember crying on the floor

of my bedroom feeling powerless — physically, emotionally and mentally. I felt like nothing could help me at that time. My body was desperate for a way to release or speak. Then I remembered my therapist telling me that when I’m in that state, I should look for the things that really matter to me and engage with them. So, I played the song ‘Stupid love’ by Lady Gaga, and I witnessed my body coming back to life and wanting to dance its pain off. I quickly grabbed my laptop and started writing and producing the song ‘Disco Pain.’ It was a way of saying — I matter, I’m here, and this is my voice. I never thought I could make this song and put it out the way it is now. But with the help of Berklee Abu Dhabi, producers Michael Gains, Roger Ryan, Richard Jacques and the amazing digital artist Katya Ohno Ski, I was able to bring my vision to life and heal a part of me. Who are the musical artists that you look up to in the Arab world and beyond? K: In the Arab world, I look up to artists such as Maram Al Baloushi, Ahlam and Fairouz. In addition, I look up to artists such as Miley Cyrus, Stevie Nicks and David Bowie. But my idol is Lady Gaga. Why is it important for you to present your culture through your music and attire?

K: Growing up, I always felt like an outsider in my own society and tribe because I never saw someone who looked like me and chose to tell their stories the way I wanted to. The older I get, the more I see those little ones who hope to see someone who looks like them doing what they think someone like them could never do. So, I owe it to my younger self and everyone in my beautiful society to see and realise that if I can do this, so can you. If I can create and perform my stories in front of a crowd that’s going to stand and applaud, so can you. And if I can be on the cover of GQ wearing our traditional attire, so can you.

What are your dreams and ambitions for your music? K: I want to tell my stories, and I want the space to tell them to others — or maybe dance them with others. I want to become a canvas, and I want those who listen to me to paint me the way they desire; take all the inspiration they need and feel the power to create and tell.

What does it mean to be an Arab musician today? What do you hope to highlight to a global audience through your work, especially since you sing in English? Why is that important? K: It’s a great time and place to be an Arab musician today. Abu Dhabi, my hometown, was named ‘the City of Music’ by the UNESCO Creative Cities Network in 2021. I’m supported by people around me that I never thought would support me. Representing my culture became a mission for me; the way we look, the stories we have to tell and the limitless possibilities of what we can do. I’ve needed an Arab/Emirati pop star, so I want to become one.

MUSLIM WOMEN TALK BACK

Words by Manar & Sharifah Alhinai 70

Amani Al-Khatatbeh. Image courtesy of Muslim Girl.

Born in New Jersey in 1992 to a Jordanian-American father and a Palestinian-American mother, the United States was the only home that Amani Al-Khatatbeh had ever known. But the events of September 11 forever changed the environment she had lived in. Al-Khatatbeh and her family found themselves ostracised and facing violent attacks for their Islamic beliefs.

The young Al-Khatatbeh even tried to conceal her Muslim identity to avoid negative judgement or mistreatment from her counterparts at school. When she was 13 years old, she and her family moved to Jordan, where Al-Khatatbeh fell in love with Islam and her culture, and began to reclaim her Islamic identity by wearing the headscarf. Following her mother’s illness, however, Al-Khatatbeh moved back to New Jersey, but with an altered perspective. With a newfound pride in her Muslim identity and a frustration at how Muslims were misrepresented in the mainstream media as well as the shortage of Muslim voices within it, Al-Khatatbeh founded muslimgirl.com, a blog that reclaims the narrative of Muslims, especially that of women, in 2009. Muslim Girl has published articles on topics that touch the modern-day woman. They are written by Muslim women, in their own voices, and allow them to speak for themselves. Today, more than a decade after Al-Khatabeh established it in her bedroom at 17 years old, Muslim Girl is a media company with content that has been consumed by millions worldwide, and Al-Khatatbeh herself has become known as a formidable force. In addition to establishing a successful media platform,

she authored Muslim Girl: Coming of Age, and was listed in the Forbes 30 Under 30 List. Al-Khatatbeh was later named one of the 25 most influential Muslim Americans by CNN. In 2017, Al-Khatabeh founded Muslim Women’s Day in an effort to celebrate and uplift Muslim women, who were increasingly facing attacks at the time. The occasion is annually marked on March 27. In this interview, the 30-year-old discusses what it means to be a third culture kid and how it shaped her journey, reflects on the past and future of Muslim Girl and provides us with insight into her upcoming project. How did your experiences as a third culture kid shape your career path? Do you think you would have chosen a different career path if you hadn’t been one? AA: I feel like my whole career is a reaction to being a third culture kid. My dad immigrated to the U.S. in the 80’s, and was not far off from his Jordanian culture when he started raising a family. My mum is a Palestinian refugee, the daughter of Nakba survivors — she grew up in America and was a mall kid rocking a Farah Fawcett haircut in the 80’s. I was the

first born and raised in the U.S. and grew up with one foot in two doors. September 11 happened very early on in my childhood, and suddenly, I became an outsider in the only home I’ve ever known. The Internet became the space I turned to for the community I didn’t have in real life. What have been some of the challenges of building a media company in the United States that revolves around Muslim women, their narratives and their representation? How did you overcome them? AA: When you’re on the frontlines of certain spaces, people can treat you differently and like you should be grateful to be there. There’s a lot of imposter syndrome — like when we became the first Muslim media to cover a Marvel red carpet alongside Hollywood titans, I gave a pep talk to my team to remind them that we belong and deserve to be there, too. The truth is that often, we have to work much harder with far less privilege and resources to get to where we are, and we earned every step to get there. The more we own it and take up space, the more we make room for others to do the same. Muslim Girl started off as a blog. Today, it is a big media company that organises events and programmes, has a podcast and so much more. How

do you hope Muslim Girl, thirteen years on, will serve Muslim women living abroad? AA: Muslim Girl is impactful in today’s landscape because we understood very early on the power of the Internet and social media to melt away borders between us — geographically, culturally and beyond. Having no borders has empowered us to build connections and a community based on an awareness and a commitment to bridging the gaps that divide us. Ultimately, we’re all interconnected in some way. For example, policies shaped by our elected officials in the U.S. could shape life circumstances for our brothers and sisters living abroad in a Muslim country. Increased xenophobia during our elections could reignite a wave of anti-Muslim sentiment in Europe. And it goes on. When we put pressure to pass the mic, we help empower the voices of those being drowned out. What drives you to continue working on Muslim Girl, especially given the evolvement of the representation of Muslim women? AA: It’s easy to take today’s visibility of Muslim women for granted, but it wasn’t always this way! Things had changed so quickly over the past several years online that it’s easy to forget when Muslim Girl was first starting out. Almost any mainstream coverage

about a Muslim woman was completely focused on her hijab. We were only ever defined by the way we dress, and even that was a step up from the defining post-9/11 image of Muslim women as being oppressed. I’m proud that Muslim Girl grew into one of the most influential forces in media to change that. We’ve become one of the earliest mainstream case studies that show our demographic not only exists, but it’s active, dynamic and vocal. One of the most important things that Muslim Girl’s success has done for the community is prove that Muslim women have a presence, and, therefore, can’t be ignored. There’s no excuse that ‘we couldn’t find a Muslim woman to do X’ anymore because here we are, talking back — loud and clear. Now, we’ve made it almost impossible to talk about Muslim women without including us, but we still have a long way to go to get our stories the treatment they deserve. What is your measure of success? When do you think you will say, ‘I’ve reached my goal’ for Muslim Girl? AA: Media isn’t the end goal, it’s the tool. I want Muslim Girl to shift public opinion far enough that we draw the line on suffering caused by misconceptions and prejudice. I used to say that the goal of Muslim Girl is to diminish the need for Muslim Girl, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. We deserve

legacy institutions owned by us and led by us to tell our stories and speak on our own behalf. Generational wealth takes on many forms, and I think owning our own narratives is not only our best bet, but our birthright. You established Muslim Women’s Day. How does it help third culture kids or minority groups? AA: I never expected Muslim Women’s Day to become the movement it is today. What started out as our reaction to the hostile environment for Muslim women after Trump got elected, turned into the biggest media day of the year for Muslim stories. Our allies pledge to flood the internet with our voices every year, and so we forged a creative gateway for Muslim women's representation on top media platforms that they previously wouldn’t have had access to. The united effort has totally transformed the digital landscape for how Muslim women’s stories are told. There have been many times over the past few years when I’ve been looking for something online, like hijabi haircare routines or an inspirational Muslim woman figure, and the search results were links that were published in partnership with Muslim Women’s Day, and I beamed with joy. Why is it important that third culture kids, such as yourself, showcase their identity in today’s world?

AA: As third culture kids, we are our generation’s ambassadors. It might not be a role we choose or ask for, but it’s a powerful opportunity to transform the way we understand each other and ourselves. One of my favourite quotes is, ‘If you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves.’ We owe it to the world not to deny it of its reflection. What are your dreams and ultimate ambitions for Muslim Girl, and beyond? AA: My next project takes everything I’ve learned about the issues I’m passionate about to tell stories that resonate with not only Muslim women, but anyone that’s ever been treated like the underdog.

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The Two Small-Town Photographers Captivatingly Capturing Oman’s Youth Words by Manar Alhinai 80

Approximately one hour and a half away by car from Oman’s capital city of Muscat is Al Khaburah, a province in the North Governorate. At first sight, there may not be many things that would attract a passerby on the highway to stop and explore the quiet province. But beyond the highway, Al Khaburah has seen the rise of two young Omani photographers, Abdulaziz Al Hosni and Khalid Al Shaqsi, who have made it their mission to capture the emotions and social issues faced by their young male counterparts.

From the Off with the Youth's Fears Series by Khalid Al Shaqsi.

Al Shaqsi, a 26-year-old photographer and creative director, did not always pursue conceptual photography. He began his photography journey in 2017 by exploring different types of photography, from covering events to capturing photos of restaurants and café interiors. But that all shifted for him in 2020 when he finally found his passion: capturing the emotions experienced by his young counterparts and translating the issues they face into captivating conceptual photos. Al Shaqsi believes that it his duty to capture and document the emotions of young men, especially in a country that has undergone massive development and changes in the past 50 years, particularly after the discovery of oil. In one photo, a group of young Omanis clad in traditional dishdasha, a long dress worn by Omani men, are floating in a boat with one dressed in a shirt displaying Arabic text that translates to ‘Off with the Youth’s Fear.’ ‘Our youth are our wealth. We have a talented young population, the leaders of tomorrow, and it is important for me to document the challenges and feelings they experience, and the opportunities they get,’ he says.

Al Shaqsi believes that despite the transformative changes that took place in the country, and the progress it has witnessed, there are still those who cannot realise their dreams because of some social or personal constraints. ‘What inspires me,’ he explains, ‘is that as a member of the youth population, I am aware of the obstacles and feelings that prevent me, like others, from realising my dreams. I feel what the youth feel.’ Though Omanis share a similar culture and traditions with their neighbouring Gulf countries, whose people are known as Khaleejis, Al Shaqsi believes that Oman’s youth and their aspirations and challenges are different, just as Oman’s topography of mountain chains, waterfalls, valleys and golden deserts are generally different from that of its neighbours. While aspirations and unrealised dreams are dominant themes in Al Shaqsi’s work, love is one that he aims to explore more. ‘I’m working on a project revolving around the revolution of love, a conceptual photography series about the expression of love between family members, friends and spouses across Oman.’

From the Off with the Youth's Fears Series by Khalid Al Shaqsi.

A Young Man Amongst the Bedouins by Khalid Al Shaqsi.

Previous page, image on right: Palm Fronds by Khalid Al Shaqsi.

The themes of love and youth, however, sit front and centre in Abdulaziz Al Hosni, a 22-year-old, self-taught photographer and student of graphic design. His journey in the creative scene stretches back to his childhood, when he painted on his bedroom walls.

Despite the young creative garnering more than ten thousand followers on Instagram, he faces criticism. ‘People may not like me, but I noticed that a discussion had started. Is this art or what? Why are people arguing so much about these images?’

Love is an emotion generally not publicly expressed in Oman, just like in other Arab countries, but it is what continues to inspire the work of the young creative. ‘We have such beautiful energy, and I believe it needs to be expressed. Love needs to be talked about, just like all our other emotions. I want to show the energy of Omani youth. Even if people hate me, I want a change,’ he explains.

Just like the bursting energy surrounding the youth, the two young photographers’ aspirations are unlimited. Al Hosni, like Al Shaqsi, is already planning ahead, and there’s no slowing down for this young creative who is exploring filmmaking and building art installations. ‘I feel like I almost can’t stop, my thoughts spiral when I think about what needs to be shown and expressed. It is an unlimited energy!’ he exclaims.

Al Hosni’s latest series, Qaswat al-habayib, is captured between Oman and Egypt, and features him as a young man in search of the potion of love. In one photograph titled You’ve Got The Arch, You’ve Got The Arrows, he is plastered against a heart shaped board clad in a blue dishdasha with arrows pinned on the board behind him. The photo depicts how the young man is willing to surrender all his feelings to the one he loves, even if it will cost him his life.

You've Got the Arch, You've Got the Arrows from the Qaswat Al-Habayeb Series by Abdulaziz Al Hosni.

For Strong Men from the Qaswat Al-Habayeb Series by Abdulaziz Al Hosni.

Defend You Like An Army from the Qaswat Al-Habayeb Series by Abdulaziz Al Hosni.

Magic Land from the Qaswat Al-Habayeb Series by Abdulaziz Al Hosni.

A War in his Mind from the Qaswat Al-Habayeb Series by Abdulaziz Al Hosni.

Love needs to be talked about, just like all our other emotions.

Nagham Khader: Highlighting Arab Women Through Photography Words by Sekka

‘To my sister, I apologise to you on behalf of the mother of the groom, for having asked, once she saw you, “Is that how you dress?” She spoke of her son for about an hour, and hardly talked to you.

From the Out of Her Father’s House Series by Nagham Khader.

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I apologise to you on her behalf, for having whispered in my grandmother’s ear, “You didn’t tell me her sister is whiter than her.” She was going to examine your hair because you wear the hijab, because what she considers to be bad hair would decrease your value in her eyes… Did you know that when she asked, jokingly, for coffee to be prepared, that that meant, “We don’t like the bride on offer?” I didn’t know that. And so, I apologise to you on behalf of the mother of the groom. I also dedicate this series to you, and to every woman who’s been through what you’ve been through, and refused to be treated like property, to be examined and bought and sold.’ This is how Nagham Khader, a 24-year-old Jordanian photographer with Palestinian origins, introduces and describes one of her more popular photography series, Out of Her Father’s House. The series, the title of which is derived from a traditional Arabic wedding procession (zaffah) song, is composed of eight photographs that narrate the story of a woman as she goes through the stages of a traditional marriage. It usually begins when a suitor’s mother and female relatives make a home visit to meet the prospective bride and her family, and, if a match is

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made, concludes with a wedding ceremony that jubilantly celebrates the marriage. Only in Khader’s final photographs, the bride ends up being unhappy in her own wedding as she is surrounded by two women from the groom’s side who look at her with resentment and disappointment, seemingly unhappy with the choice of wife. The series was inspired by the self-taught photographer’s own personal experience, when she sat through a traditional pre-engagement visit in which she felt her sister was being inspected like property, and degraded by a suitor’s female relatives.‘I was shaken by the amount of inappropriate comments and questions the groom’s mother threw at my sister. And it dawned on me that such bygone traditions have instilled in us — women and girls — a generational silence in the face of such insults and injuries,’ Khader says. ‘And so, I decided to offer an apology to my sister — as well as any woman who has gone through the same experience — through visuals and words that contradict the prejudices and preconceived notions of the groom’s mother. It’s a slightly exaggerated form of visual wish-making.’ But the series is only one part of Khader’s bigger ambition. The young creative hopes that her narrative photography will have some impact given her

From the Out of Her Father’s House Series by Nagham Khader.

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From the Out of Her Father’s House Series by Nagham Khader.

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firm belief in photography’s power to change reality, particularly that of women’s.‘Bringing real stories to light is effective in changing the minds of others, and exposing them to experiences they otherwise wouldn’t have thought or even dreamt of. Visual storytelling has the power to impact. And I want to be there for women who go through situations similar to the ones I show and communicate,’ she says. ‘I would like to communicate a refusal to be treated as property or to be put under the microscope.’ ‘We — Arab women — have always been taught not to show ourselves in pictures, for a variety of reasons — the envious and evil eyes of others chief among them. But it’s time for us to show our faces and celebrate our existence and survival,’ she adds. Out of Her Father’s House marks the first time that Khader has depicted women other than herself and her grandmother, whom she has a close relationship with, in her photography. ‘The main subject of a lot of my photographs is my grandmother. We share a unique relationship; we talk for hours on end at the kitchen table. She is a beacon of warmth and understanding, and has been a great encouragement to me since childhood,’ she warmly says. ‘However,

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recently, I started to widen my creative horizon by talking to other women, listening to their stories and trying to communicate the process visually.’ And it seems that this will not be the last time that Khader does so. Alongside opening her own studio where photographers and designers can comfortably share their ideas and visions together, Khader, ‘would like to keep exploring the interior lives of women and marginalised communities, and the situations they face in their daily lives’ in her future photographic works.

From the Out of Her Father’s House Series by Nagham Khader.

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Nagham Khader with her grandmother. Image courtesy of Nagham Khader.

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Dean Majd on Photographing the Palestinian Diaspora and More Words by Sharifah Alhinai

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Image on right: 'Sheep Farm, ad-Dhahiriya, Hebron, 2018.' Image by Dean Majd from the Separation Series.

Known for his diaristic style of photography, Dean Majd is a name that many are coming to know in the art scene. His journey into the creative world started when Majd was seven years old, and his mother gave him a life-changing gift: a camera. ‘I still carry a camera with me at all times. I haven’t stopped taking pictures since,’ he tells me.

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'Cousins, ad-Dhahiriya, Hebron, 2018.' Image by Dean Majd from the Separation Series.

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When he was in middle school, Majd began to focus on photographing his friends at night skateboarding, doing graffiti and sneaking into concerts — a practice that he continues today, and which is reflected in his most popular photography series. Titled Hard Feelings, the body work captures his predominately male friend group at their most candid in extremely intimate and emotionally charged moments. ‘It is a dissection of masculinity, brotherhood and chosen family, male-female relationships and the overall human condition, touching on self-destruction, loneliness and most of all collective and personal grief,’ he describes the work, which debuted at the Aperture Foundation in 2020 about which he spoke at the Pratt Institute in 2021. Spit, blood, physical and emotional violence, romance and faith appear in the images ‘as a meditation on the multitudes of identity,’ he expands. But it was not the first time that Majd’s work has explored the theme of identity. Prior to releasing Hard Feelings to the public, Majd worked on Separation, a series that explores the Palestinian diaspora. ‘In September of 2018, I travelled with my mother to Jordan, the West Bank of Palestine and Israel to meet my whole family,’ says the photographer, who was born and raised in Queens, New York, to Palestinian

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parents. ‘I felt instinctively that I needed to photograph the whole experience…I did not realise until I returned to the States that I had photographed the Palestinian diaspora through the eyes of my family.’ Similar to Hard Feelings, the work was an intimate documentation, but this time involved his relatives and the land from which he and his family descend. For Majd, photographing the Palestinian diaspora and sharing those photographs with the world is important. ‘Photographing the Palestinian diaspora is to solidify truth of our existence. I want the world to see the complex truth of the Palestinian struggle, to show that despite our separation, we remain one,’ he explains. ‘It’s important for people to see our humanity, to detach themselves from the narrative of violence, and to understand the real lives at the centre of the Palestinian struggle.’ He emphasises that the work is also significant for the Palestinian diaspora themselves, ‘I want this body of work to be a reminder of home, and an affirmation of where we come from, where we belong and where we deserve to return.’ Majd’s creative journey as an Arab-American artist has not been easy. ‘To be an Arab artist is to feel like you’re constantly existing in spaces that you don’t

'My Grandmother, Amman, 2018.' Image by Dean Majd from the Separation Series.

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belong,’ he says. ‘It is as if you are in an ongoing battle to claim your right to be an artist. You are often seen as one thing and are placed in a box because people cannot understand you otherwise.’ He notes, ‘It is vital that Arabs are seen as deeper and more complex than how they have been historically represented in all forms of art, and that complexity differs in so many ways for all Arabs across the globe.’ As one who walks the talk, Majd is already doing something about it. ‘I’ve been developing a new body of work with and centring [on] my cousin, the Egyptian artist Dallas Saad, that is partly a layered dissection of the Arab-American dichotomy that draws from both our experiences, and yet is so far removed from standard notions of identity,’ he reveals. ‘The new work explores how the gap and tension between this dichotomy has created space for an existence that is entirely new and unseen, a lived experience that we both share, an experience that defies the typical understanding of what an Arab-American is and could be.’

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Dean Majd. Image by Dallas Saad.

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From Street to Conceptual Photography: Making a Difference Words by Manar Alhinai

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Enas Sistani is a firm believer in the power of photography and art in creating impact and change. The 35-year-old is one of Bahrain’s most popular young creatives, who has been known for her street photography as well as for raising issues of societal importance through her work. Her street photography of Manama, Bahrain, was recently highlighted by the Museum of Modern Art’s (MoMa) Photo Club.

From the Mental Health Series by Enas Sistani.

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Enas Sistani. Image by Enas Sistani.

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Her photographs that raise awareness about mental health issues, and which are partly inspired by her own journey with Borderline Personality Disorder, have been published by media outlets such as BBC Arabic, Vice Arabia and Sekka. I spoke with Sistani about the diversity of her photography work, the insight that photographs can provide an international audience about the Arab world and why it’s important for photographers to go beyond depicting rosy images and tackle significant issues. Your photography ranges from street photography to addressing big topics, such as mental health. What drives that range? ES: What motivates me and inspires me to capture mainly street and conceptual photos are people's experiences, as well as their stories. I try as much as possible to create a platform where people can form links between my photos and their own personal experiences, at least, that's what I try to do with my conceptual photos. As for my street photography, I just love how different people can make sense of it in different ways. This is the beauty of photography; how limitless it can be. Your work has been published in leading media publications, and highlighted by MoMa. Based

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on your experience, what captures a global audience’s attention the most from the Arab region? ES: I think it is the diversity that I try to capture through my photography and how a single photo can serve as a learning and immersive experience. Photography is not merely an artistic tool to me; I try as much as possible to transform and create experiences through it. For example, the photo that was selected by MoMA encapsulates a typical Bahraini life in the souq, from the type of people you can encounter in an afternoon stroll in the market, to the colours and the atmosphere. I try as much as possible to create a positive experience through the photos that I capture, even though my conceptual, and at times, controversial photography. I still try to make sure that the viewer walks away with a positive experience and a new insight. Your photograph, Caution, combats the view that Arabs (and other persons of colour) are uncivilised, which the media has played a role in forming. In a world where misconceptions and misinformation are rampant, from your perspective, what parts of Arab culture are important for Arab photographers to share with an international audience to change their views? ES: I don't think there are specific elements of the culture that a photographer needs to highlight in or-

From the Corporate Ghosts Series by Enas Sistani.

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From the Mental Health Series by Enas Sistani.

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der for them to tackle misconceptions and misinformation. Sometimes a scene as simple as capturing one's daily life can help spread a positive message, such as photographing a scene from a Friday prayer, or from a neighbourhood, or even family and friends' gatherings. All of those can contribute to better portraying life in the region and can help give the viewer a first-hand look into what the culture truly is like away from the tainted portrayal that they usually tend to receive from everyday media channels. However, I also think it is important to highlight some of the challenges we face in the region and how we can tackle them. I don't think it is fair to merely highlight the good and rosy and disregard the difficulties we tend to face, which is a given in all cultures, not only ours. Your work, such as Corporate Ghosts, raises awareness about mental health issues, which is one of those challenges in the sense that there are many stereotypes about people who live with mental health issues. How dwo you think photography can smash stereotypes when it comes to that? ES: I want to be able to tell stories that people shy away from narrating. I want to be able to be the voice of those who are either silenced or are just not

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ready to speak up yet and be able to pave the way for them to tell their own stories as well. When I first started doing conceptual photography and art, I never thought that they would create so much noise.I merely wanted to showcase a few hot topics such as mental health, but never had I imagined that I would be able to build a platform for discussion. I have since been approached by people sharing their own experiences with me and others who have been able to challenge the narratives that I have been putting forth through my photography. It is truly interesting to see how one single photo can stir so many emotions and start endless conversations.

Caution by Enas Sistani.

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Tea and Laughter by Enas Sistani was featured by the MoMa Photo Club.

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Tea and Laughter by Enas Sistani was featured by the MoMa Photo Club.

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Zainab Alradhi: Spreading Body Literacy Amongst a New Generation of Men and Women Words by Sadeem Al-Qorashi

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Like many journeys, the feminine journey begins with yourself, but not necessarily by yourself. For many women in the Arab world, publicly seeking knowledge about and discussing one’s body has been traditionally frowned upon, given the generally conservative and modest culture. However, with the new generation of young Arab men and women, it’s become a topic that is growing beyond mere one-on-one conversations.

Zainab Alradhi, the founder of Niswa. Image courtesy of Zainab Alradhi.

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It is one that is building a community of an enlightened generation who have not only learned the language of their bodies, but have also become skilled in navigating parts of their bodies that they once rejected or refused to confront. Today’s generation of Arabs are addressing controversial and sensitive topics with a wide Arab audience in new and innovative ways. Niswa, a bilingual community aimed at spreading body literacy in the Arab world, has pushed aside taboos and stigmas to create a safe space to discuss bodies, marital sex life, ovulation cycles and sustainability. Zainab Alradhi, a certified fertility awareness educator and cycle coach in training, is the Saudi force behind Niswa. The 27-year-old was inspired to establish the platform when she and her husband tried to find a contraceptive method that is highly effective, hormonal-free and environmentally friendly. Facing a shortage of Arabic content dedicated to body literacy and sustainability, Alradhi took matters into her own hands to fill the gap with an environmental, woman-focused approach. She established Niswa, which translates to ‘women’ in Arabic, a platform that is available both in Arabic and English that offers accessible online content, workshops and cours-

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es about female anatomy, menstrual cycles, fertility awareness and more. ‘Niswa was born from the womb of transformation I experienced in my journey with body literacy, in an attempt to remove the stigma attached to our bodies, pleasure and periods,’ recounts Alradhi. Through this journey, Niswa played a significant role in destigmatising and normalising body education for men and women, and illustrating how body literacy can positively influence many aspects of life. ‘Not only is body literacy essential to foster a healthy relationship with oneself, but with others as well. Our families, children, coworkers and community, will all benefit from our body literacy mastery,’ explains Alradhi. ‘From early years of life, body literacy will build the foundation of self worth and confidence. Body literacy makes it easier to process the transitioning stages of our lives: puberty, pregnancy, postpartum, perimenopause and menopause. It makes it easier to advocate for ourselves in the doctor’s office, and arm ourselves with the knowledge we need to heal.’ On a personal level, expresses Alradhi, ‘My life, marriage and health had all transformed as I got to practise menstrual cycle awareness, and learn how to work with my body in harmony with nature.’

But the journey of establishing Niswa was not challenge-free. ‘There was a faint voice inside of me that was scared to launch Niswa,’ recounts Alradhi. ‘But the excitement won…It was time.’

we seem to stand together to say, “that stops here,” and we’re ready to rewrite our story for ourselves and generations to come,’ states Alradhi.

Although she faced some lack of encouragement when she first decided to launch the platform in Arabic after she had initially established it in English, she knew that Arabic-speaking women were ready for ‘body literacy as it would build the foundation of self-worth, confidence and consent,’ she says. The eventual response? ‘Overwhelming positivity,’ describes Alradhi. In addition to Arabic-speaking women, Alradhi knew that Niswa would be a platform that men can also benefit from in many avenues, including marital sex life. In fact, many men seem to have an enthusiastic attitude towards body literacy. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of couples since Niswa was born, and the excitement men have about learning about their partners’ bodies, and their own is amazing,’ she reveals. ‘Men deserve to be body literate, too.’ Body literacy has become an essential tool for building an empowered community that is free of body illiteracy, generational stigmas and shame. ‘Today,

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