We all know the saying “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade“. There are many variations of this one statement, but this one is the most common or at least what I’ve always heard. Since I’ve become conscious of this journey called life, I’ve struggled with the fact there is no manual. I mean what’s a girl to do with no instruction? I like to know what’s coming so that I can prepare and this is probably the reason I hated inferring in my reading classes. I mean it helps that there are developmental stages, and each has its own set of experiences you can look forward to. At the initial years of life your brain is trying to survive and you’re learning the basics of mobility. You learn to roll, then crawl and finally walk. You discover the concept of object permanence, which now that I think about it must be mind boggling to children. Then my favorite part of development, cognition. You learn to speak and express your wants and needs. You discover you love pasta and hate chocolate. You love when your mother sings you to sleep and going for runs with your brothers. You learn to say “please” and “thank you” when asking or receiving. You learn to say excuse me when you accidentally bump into someone or make any sort of bodily noise. You think to yourself, ” I really appreciate kindness.” Just like that, having good manners and etiquette was one of your favorite aspects of life. and just as you’re figuring these out and you’ve gotten comfortable with the idea of living this little life, you realize there’s much more to this little rock you emerged on.
A little later down the line while you’re in your 3rd period mathematics class, you notice the boys passing around a sheet of paper. As it gets closer to you, you see a list of the girls in your class and next to their names a range of numbers from 1-10. This was called rating. You’ve heard of it in passing but never witnessed it happen in real time. You quickly wish you were in your history class instead. Maybe then, you’ll see that boys were also mean in the 20th century. Would that make you feel better? In 7th grade, you’re taught about the women’s suffrage, and it dawns on you that “boys will be boys” existed far before you. Did Jane Addams also struggle connecting with her brothers after realizing they’re favored? Soon enough you’re 16 in Chemistry class and a thought passes through your head and you know it shouldn’t. You wish it didn’t. Uranium was cool and all, but did Marie Curie discover anything to get rid of hip dips? The thought disgusts you because you know you shouldn’t care and this isn’t you, but Anna was the prettiest girl in school and she had no hip dips. In 1st grade it was instilled in you that the inside is what matters. So why did you care so much about the outside?
You’re now having experiences that shape you. The T-Mobile clerk talking to your mom in an infantilizing and condescending tone because of her broken English, not knowing she’s the smartest person you know. What’s this you’re feeling? Witnessing an uprise of a “not all men” movement in correspondence to the “Me Too” movement. Your little naïve brain with silly thoughts of fairness and hope thinks “at least there’s a justice system.” You search that night the repercussions for sexual assault. This can’t be right? “4 years maximum but most offenders don’t get sentenced,” this article reads. You know its a trusted source because you were taught to look for a .org, .gov or a .Edu and this one clearly had one of the three. What is this feeling?
Slowly that silly naive brain of yours no longer reeks of dreams. With each new backstabbing truth your joyous, curious and idealistic rose-tinted glasses slide off an inch. “Police brutality at an all time high.” One inch. “Uyghurs in concentration camps.” Another inch. “Yemen still with the longest humanitarian crisis.” Another inch. You tell yourself you were never a shades kind of girl anyway.
You’re in your freshman year of college now in a city that isn’t yours. You don’t know what you want to be yet. Your advisor asks you what you want to major in and you tell her you don’t know, you’ve never been too good with endless options. She asks what you like, and you tell her, “I like history, and I like people. I know for a fact I want to help people and maybe change the world.” She looks at you and she smiles and says your optimism is cute. You decide to go home and spend some time with your family. You turn the TV on and instantly the news starts blaring. In bold headlines you see that there has been an ICE raid in the Mexican dessert shop you frequented during your childhood. You inhale but the exhale never comes. God, what is this awful feeling?
You’re 21 now which means it’s officially been 3 years since the genocide of the Palestinians started. You’re registering for classes for your final year. You haven’t majored in history or literature or anything that moves you, you decided to be practical and study something STEM related. You still want to change the world but ironically it changed you. You have two hours left of your shift at the hospital when your patient asks you, “Are you from Iraq?” They don’t let you answer before they continue, “You know I served there? best years of my life!” The bridge of your nose starts to feel heavy. Does he not know you’re Muslim? You pass by the reflective window to see if you’ve suddenly transformed into a conservative white woman and what stares back at you is your very visible eastern features and your favorite black hijab. Suddenly, there’s a clatter on the ground. “What are you looking for?” your patient says confused. “I thought my glasses fell,” I respond. “You wear glasses?” they ask. “No,” you respond quietly.
You no longer love pasta the way you used to. Every time you have a bowl you think of the level 5 famine in Sudan and if that isn’t an appetite destroyer, I’m not sure what is. You decide you need some mindless escapism. You’re scrolling on your FYP and see a video of a pretty girl and she’s Native American, you smile grateful and happy that the erasure of the Native Americans was unsuccessful. Shes making sour dough bread from scratch and you think, “I should bake sometime, its good for the nervous system.” You scroll and the next video is someone unboxing the new iPhone 16. God, how unoriginal can these companies be? It looked almost identical to the past five releases and was still retailing at the average New Yorkers rent. you comment, “Free Congo,” because what else could you do.
That feeling you were feeling? the incessant one that increased with intensity? That was rage. You’ve never felt rage before but now it existed inside of you in abundace.
See, life was supposed to give me lemons so that I can make lemonade but lemons are now $2.25 at the local grocery store. Maybe I’ll just make marmalade. A spread that serves me no purpose and is almost as useless as I feel…
I hope you enjoy this and relate in some way. My writing is quite rusty and I know that this can be polished a lot more but im kinda digging the ruggedness. till next time ❤
With love and light,
Uyoon Al-ghazaal
Uyoon Al-ghazaal 
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