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Tattoos have always been taboo in my household. They had a negative connotation to my parents. However, tattoos have been essential in discovering self love, becoming one with my body and healing. Currently, I have ten pieces. A majority of them are tattoos to symbolize my journey on this path.
Children; such innocent little beings. Lighting up the whole room as they smile, and sparking joy in people’s eyes when they giggle. Such delicate little flowers that must be protected at all costs. Yet, here in Pakistan, thousands are molested. Thousands are robbed of their innocence, thousands are harassed, and millions stay silent.
Healing and finding peace was difficult and I am still on my journey trying to find it. Along the way, I have learned what it means to be a survivor. I was taught as a child that those who have been assaulted have some sort of blame, no matter what the circumstance is. My mother always heckled me whenever I would walk out the door in a crop top or mini skirt saying, “You’re just asking for it.” After I was assaulted, I did blame myself. In fact, I put all the blame on myself.
To say that we’re living in stressful times would be a ridiculous understatement. With a pandemic still raging on, Americans have been facing isolation and an ever-present dread as we begin our fourth month of quarantine and social distancing. The murder of George Floyd has shone a light on the racist violence Black Americans face from the police, leading to a surge of protests and activism as people grieve and fight for justice.