Tag: journal

My Hate-Hate relationship with Self Promotion

Posted on by Khadeejah in Art, Creative writing, faith, hijab, Inspirational, Journey, Lifestyle, muslim, Struggle, Uncategorized
15% off all purchases at koveredinjoy.ecwid.com AND FREE SHIPPING!! … no forreal! Promocode: HAJJ2019

Ok, now that that is out of the way.

A random facebook friend and fellow entrepreneur messaged me about some of the woes of being in business with oneself and invited me to join her in promoting our respective businesses EVERY DAY OF AUGUST. As daunting as it sounds, I’m actually going to try, I mean, I have no shortage of businesses to promote. By the way, check out my other page, oddballcreativesllc.wordpress.com.

Now that the challenge is on, I have to finish a poem I started, do a photoshoot to pair with said poem, and post to my million social media outlets….

Pray for me yall😘

2018, I’m Coming For You

Posted on by Khadeejah in Art, Creative writing, faith, hijab, Inspirational, Journey, Lifestyle, muslim, Struggle, Uncategorized

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Hello Sweeties! It’s been ages! I don’t think I’ve posted anything since last summer. It’s safe to say, I’ve become quite the ghost on the social media scene but I’m slowly sliding back out of the woodwork and becoming an active participant in my own life. Scratch that, I’m becoming a leader in my own life.

The first week of the year was a bust but I’ve committed myself to getting my act together, pushing my fears aside and doing the dang thing. I’ve spent the last week sketching and designing, trying to develop a brand identity for myself. Three years studying Graphic Design is paying off. I was up till after midnight last night tweaking designing and finally got something I’m satisfied with; don’t worry, I know I’m being insanely vague but yall will see soon Insha allah (God willing).

My plan was to do some more designing all day today, unfortunately, that wasn’t possible so instead, I got dressed and vlogged a little shopping to buy some filming and organizational equipment on a budget. I went to Dollar Tree and Burlington. Bought a desk calendar, some pens and pencils, a not pad and a vent and window phone mount for my car. The vent mount is going back because the window mount is a far better option. I need the mount because I’ll likely(sadly) be filming a lot from my car because currently it’s the only private place I have. I know it’s not ideal but if I were to wait until I am able to get my own place again, it would be ages until I could anything started and the time is now. No more excuses.

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Anyway, back to my shopping trip, I wanted to buy another selfie-stick but there was this guy standing next to them the ENTIRE time I was in Dollar Tree. I circled back a few timed hoping he had moved. He didn’t. Now, now, I’m not scared of any man, buut, when I was near him the first time getting my vent mount, he said “I like your make-up” and that was it for me. Compliments in general make me uncomfortable, compliments from guys gross me out. I don’t like imagining random guys find me attractive. I know, I’m weird.

I never got to finish filming my day because my phone ever so politely informed me that it was “dangerously low on space’. Son of a biscuit. Oh well. Next thing I need to invest in is a memory card…. and probably a camcorder instead of using my phone for everything. However, the last thing I need is more stuff. My car is already full enough.. Gosh I need to get my own place again. Pray for me ya’ll.

One last thing! If you haven’t already, check out my spoken word post on youtube!

Is My Black Really Beautiful

Posted on by Khadeejah in Creative writing, faith, hijab, Journey, Lifestyle, Struggle, Uncategorized

Just putting it out there, Asian men, #indian, #Pakistani and #Bengali men make me feel so ugly because I’m a #blackwoman. And I’m talking, next level, Smeagol, the Gollum from Lord of The Rings, type ugly. They make me feel like I am less than, beneath them; like I’m a mangy stray dog they found in the woods that they play with, have a great time, become great friends with but at the end of the day, leave in the woods because dogs aren’t allowed in the house.

Perhaps this may sound harsh, but it’s not meant to be harsh or offensive and I’m not backbitting simply by stating how I FEEL. And no one can deny, or bring up a defense to how I, or anyone else feels about something, so please, don’t try.

I’ve seen some of my fellow #BMW (black muslim women) speak out on this and have seen them verbally attacked and torn apart for voicing their experiences and feelings. You cannot invalidate someone’s truth just because it makes you uncomfortable.

And one of my truths is, as stated above, is that Asian men make me feel #ugly. They make my skin, hair, features, background, ancestors all feel ugly and unacceptable. And before you ask why I singled out Asian men, it’s because that’s where my experience lies. In my very limited experience with, say, #Arab men, they either deny my existence all together or I’m the dog they adore and want to take home but their mamas are allergic.

But here’s the thing, you dont need my experience, ask just about any BMW of a certain age. They nearly all have a story to tell. Let’s face it, black people, black women have been seen as the lowest of low globally since, well, practically forever. And if you don’t believe that, educate yourself.

And I’m not the kind of person who ever cared about or focused on #race, but when you’re constantly rejected because of it, your perspective starts to shift.

You have to start actively trying to accept and love yourself not just as a woman, but as a black woman. Honestly, growing up I never cared one way or the other about my race, it was just part of who I was, like being female or short. I look very, what one would call “ethnically black” and never did I see it as a problem. But as I got older and more exposed to the world and saw and experienced how much negativity is associated to that one aspect of me. I started to understand why women would repeat #MyBlackIsBeautiful, creating a positive association with our race and features to combat the hate we get from all sides. And when I say all sides, I mean all sides. Many of our own men find us distasteful and, wait for it, some of our very own black women think we should try to be “less black”, whatever the heck that means. 😐

In #Islam, racism, colorism, culturalism are all explicitly forbidden, but I suppose people will be people, Muslim or not😕. And for those with blinders on and are in denial that racism is alive and kicking within the Muslim community, it’s story time!

I’ve been on a Muslim marriage website for a couple years now, not and active or paying member but I wanted to get an idea of what’s out there. Well, let me just tell you, those websites, no matter how much they claim they are for practising Muslims are not really made for black #muslimahs. Now my profile clearly states that I’m black. But it’s as if guys are like “she sounds incredible.. but… dang, she why gotta be black though.. maybe she doesn’t look black 🤔 *requests photo*”. 99% Of the asian guys disappear as soon as they see me. (About 85% of the Arab guys disappear). Just the other day a guy messaged me, we coincidentally went to the same university. He was all gungho about getting to know me, said he uploaded some photos and hoped we could do a photo exchange. My… slightly irritated and possibly uncalled for response, “I’m so done with all the racism on this website. I’m a black woman, as my profile clearly states. If that’s a problem for you, stop right now.” He stopped. Oh I have sooo many other stories. A little tip, if a guy’s profile says he’s open to all ethnicities…. don’t believe it.. or maybe it’s not because I’m black at all, maybe I’m just #fugly😂💁

I’m Just a Small Town Girl

Posted on by Khadeejah in Creative writing, Journey, muslim

I need to talk about my little #adventure yesterday. I really wanted to see the city to explore and see if I’d feel comfortable #downtown. I’m from #smallville #ohio, also known a Xenia, OH. I’m the smallest of small town girls. I’m the girl next door. Up until recently I was extremely shy. So when I say I wasn’t ready for my encounters yesterday…Lord! ….. I WAS NOT READY. I have never ever ever saw myself as even remotely attractive, cute, pretty or anything of the sort. Don’t get me wrong, i love me some me, but like I said, I’m just the girl next door type.. So when I started to get hit on and leered at to the point that I wanted to jump into the river it was all new. And a little uncomfortable. Being looked at the way I look at mac and cheese is, well, #gross. Especially being a #muslimah and someone who #covers. Im used to creeps sliding in my inbox, but that.. y’all 😣😣😣😣 #ICantEven.

One Dress, Three Ways

Posted on by Khadeejah in Fashion, La Femme Khadeejah

Hello Sweeties! Happy Saturday

Well, after finally figuring out how to separate my blog posts so that my style posts don’t get mixed up with my everyday, we can finally get this started. 🙂

When I’m not working, it’s pretty much all dresses and skirts for me. Though I don’t consider myself girly, I’m extremely, unapologetically “feminine” (whatever that means). I honestly feel like there is nothing I can’t do in a dress. I’ve worked out in them, rode bikes in them, planted gardens in them. I’m unstoppable in dress! Now, I’m not anti-pants or anything like that and I do wear them on occassion(like to work). But I honestly, I barely own any. Seriously, aside from work pants, I have… two pair… no lie. Pants really don’t represent my style and well, I’m short and finding pants (not jeans, hate jeans) in my lenght is darn near impossible.

Anyhoo.

My outfit of.. Wednesday. The main piece was the black floral polkadotted dress.

20170510_122210-01 For the first look, I the dress with a coral toned cardigan, the belt that came woth the dress, a bright yellow scarf/hijab, and open toed heels. If you’re feeling especially colorful.

 

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For the second, more toned down look, I switched to a pair fow white slip on sneakers, threw on a soft black jacket and a black scarf/hijab for a girly, edgy vibe.

 

For the last look, I dropped the sneakers and replaced them with black, knee high boots. I added a long sleeve black t-shirt, lost the belt for added modesty and threw on that vibrant orange print scarf because I was feeling daring and wanted to mix patterns. I also threw on the black, elbow length gloves because the sleeves to the t-shirt didn’t quite reach my wrists and added some colorful bangles for fun.

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Untie the knot in my tongue, so they may understand my speech..

Posted on by Khadeejah in Journey, Uncategorized

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately, I mean, a whole lot; thinking about who I am and how I got to be this way. I think of my childhood, my upbringing. My parents. I’m a pretty open person except when it comes to my parents, mostly because, despite everything, I don’t want to disrespect them. For years I’ve played with the idea of writing a memoir, but it wouldn’t be real, it wouldn’t be accurate and raw, unless I spoke my whole truth. And that included opening up about my parents. So I always decided against it. My mother would never forgive me if people knew of the skeletons in our family closet; that the picture wasn’t/isn’t quite as pretty as it seems.

Blogging here and there about certain things seems safe enough.

Today I’m going to talk about yet another thing I don’t like discuss. My difficulty with speaking. Let me must tell you, having people constantly saying, “huh?” “What?” “I don’t understand you.” is not fun. It’s pretty awful actually. When I was really young, I didnt really notice it, spent pretty much the entire first twelve years of my life only around my immediate family members. And as a result, I didn’t much have a sense of self, no real sense of autonomy. I wasn’t much aware of myself as an individual, which included the way I looked and the way I spoke. At least not when around my siblings, who were almost exclusively to whome I spoke. And around everyone else, I was shy, painfully shy.

I wish I’d gotten a speech therapist as a child. But I guess mother saying, “Quit mubbling!” Was all the therapy she thought I needed.

Oh, let me back up for a second for those who don’t actually know my life! I was homeschooled till I was 12. When I was 12, my family moved to Trinidad  (another story for another day) and thats when everything changed. That’s when I started gaining self awareness, and that’s when I noticed I had a problem. At first I thought my shyness and social anxiety played a part. Making it impossibly difficult to get words out. But when I did get them out, it was oftentimes gibberish, or so slurred it was unintelligible. And when classmates and teachers would repeatedly not understand me, I told myself that it was my American accent that they couldn’t understand. But the thing is, I couldn’t understand what was  coming out of my mouth either. I knew what I intended to say, but wouldn’t come out right. There is a term so lovingly referred to as marble mouth, as in, sounding as if you’re speaking with a mouth full of marbles. That’s me!

Whenever I try to slow down and speak more clearly, I stutter. When I record myself on snapchat or instagram, sometimes I have to record myself at least three times until I’m understandable. I know there are a lot of people out there who would say it’s not that bad or that i just talk too fast. But for me, it is that bad. It makes be feel stupid, make me feel like a moron. It’s ironic isn’t it, that I have so much to say but faulter in my speech. . .

La Femme Khadeejah

Posted on by Khadeejah in Fashion, hijab, La Femme Khadeejah

Ok Sweeties! Today is Wednesday and I’m embarking on something new. Or at least, attempting to. First thing you should know about me is, I abhor fashion. I hate the idea that this or that is what people “should be wearing”. I hate trends, being “in style” etc. Now, I absolutely love clothes as a form of SELF expression. Expressing yourself, your personality, not what people suggest you express.

All that being said, the thing I need to express, to the entire world, every single day I step out of my home is: I am a proud Muslim woman. I’m a covered girl. My dress not only expresses my personality but my religious devotion. Now there are a ton of Hijabi fashionistas or Hijabistas and modest fashion and bloggers are all the rage these days. Muslimah is the new black. And as a firm anti trend follower, while respect what they do, It wasn’t for me and I was not about to be just another hijabi beauty blogger.

BUT

I’ve noticed a newly developed need. The thing about modest fashion, is that the term  modest is open to interpretation and there are varying degrees what is considered modest. But the most popular bloggers and icons in the modest movement don’t dress like me. They don’t cover as much. This is in no way a judgement, it’s an observation. They are out there slaying the game and in many ways are helping the way this country (The US) views Muslim women.

I’m the laid back chick who never has her face beat, eyebrows are never on fleek, I do not now, nor will I ever rock a turban. I don’t expose my neck, any portion of my hair or arms, I avoid tight clothes and I hate pants, lol. But I haven’t seen any one out there that represents girls & women like me. Now I’m not someone who ever needed representation, I never needed to see myself on television, in magazines. But I realize, most people do. Most people crave seeing their likeness in the media for validation. Hence the need I previously mentioned. I have nieces. My baby girls. 8 months to 18 years old. And I’m starting this new “fashion/style” blog for them. For the covered girls.

I Was Abused…

Posted on by Khadeejah in Creative writing, Inspirational, Journey, Lifestyle, muslim, Struggle

Upon reflections of my upbringing,
It truly is no surprise
That the first man I ever “loved”
Would have been mentally abusive
In every sense of the term.

– Kat

​I don’t talk about it, not to anyone. I’ve only ever told really told one person about some of the horrors I endured for an entire year of my early twenties. My friends at the time didn’t know half, a fourth even, of the mind games, guilt trips and manipulation that man put me through. I couldn’t tell my sister, I was too ashamed. Truth is, I didn’t have anyone I trusted enough to talk about it to. I felt isolated and alone. And anyone who knows anything about abuse of any kind, the abused almost always feels that way; alone, with no way out. And unless you’ve actually been in that situation, you will never, and mean never, understand what it’s like. You’ll never understand the conditions that led to a victim being a victim, and staying a victim.
I had no confidence, no self esteem, no self worth. I had no idea what a functional relationship was supposed to look like, feel like. I had no clue how a man was supposed to treat a woman, or what it was to be  truly respected or cared for.

In the beginning, he made me feel special, desired, and loved. I fell hard. Things moved at a lightening fast pace, and almost immediately we talking about our future and marriage. But it didn’t take long for things to start going south. He would ignore my messages, disappear for weeks at a time, delete me on social media then pop back up saying he missed me, and that he loved me and was “going though stuff”. And the few times I mustered up enough courage to stand up for myself, he’d twist things around and I’d end up being the one apologizing (he was exceptionally good at that). Apologizing for not being understanding enough. Apologizing for not being a good enough woman, saying I’d do better. I distinctly remember begging him not to leave me. It sounds crazy doesn’t it?

Intellectually, I knew the way he was treating me wasn’t right, but at that point in my life, I’d only ever known a man to make his woman miserable, so in a sense, it was almost normal. I would say things to myself like, “who am I to think I deserve a perfect man? I’m certainly not perfect, so I should take the bad with the good.” Or, “Once we’re married, it’ll all be ok.” I was determined to be dedicated, unwavering in my devotion to him because he had a hard life and I  was going to stand by my man. Be a “ride or die”. It all sounds so foolish now, but I’m older, smarter and more importantly, I now possess the self worth that I simply didn’t have back then. But I can remember exactly what it felt like. Feeling like, if I ever lost him, no other man would possibly ever love me. It was my one chance at a happy ending, I couldn’t let my pride get in the way of that. It’s sad to think that as neglected, rejected and sometimes despised I felt by him, somewhere in my mind, I guess somehow still believed he loved me. Or maybe I didn’t believe he loved me. It’s interesting the way your brain finds a way to justify the unjustifiable so you can sleep at night.

I remember how exhausting it was pretending everything was ok, I couldn’t endure being called silly and ridiculous by friends for not ending things, I couldn’t have my sister being disappointed in me, I needed her support more than anything and if she knew of all the nights I cried myself to sleep because of how badly he treated me, she would never accept him. So the worse it got, the more distant I became to others. If he and I were on one of our many “off again” periods, I didn’t say a word, I knew we’d be back on again and all would be right.
I’m not shy about the fact that I have daddy issues, mommy issues, attachment issues, trust issues, abandonment issues and pair all that with my self image issues, I was literally the perfect storm, so to speak, for abuse.
I was a girl desperate for a man’s love while feeling utterly undeserving of it.

My mother still thinks just carelessly cast him aside like I’m some kind of heart breaker and that we were such a cute couple and that I should have  married him. Truth be told, even after everything, after he revealed that he hooked with some chick because he was lonely, I would have. I would have still married him if he’d let me. Thankfully, through a certain circumstance that I won’t reveal, God saved me from it, and from him, because I was powerless to save myself.

Fast forward to last year(or maybe the year before). I open up my Kik app and that man had actually had the audacity to message me say something along the lines of him knowing he messed up bad (darn skippy) and that I probably wouldn’t give him another chance (preach) but he’d like to still at least be friends (boy bye!). See, he thought I was still in victim mode and would race back to him. Sorry boo, I’m a queen now. 

You’re Beautiful.. Just The Way You Are

Posted on by Khadeejah in Art, Creative writing, Inspirational, Journey, Lifestyle


Wake up in the morning and look in the mirror

Tell yourself you’re beautiful

With your messy hair and sleepy eyes

Walk around in your underwear…

Or nude

If you’re ever so daring, take a selfie..or ten

Look at you

Really look at you

Forget every other body you’ve ever seen

On T.V., in the magazines, in your life

You have no business comparing your body to theirs.

For a second, just pretend that no other bodies exist

Just yours

It’s not so bad when you’re not trying to measure it up to others is it?

Pear shaped

Square shaped

Stretch marks

Thighs that have touched since forever

Squishy stomach

Hyper-pigmentation

Hairy

Small breast

Scars

Short legs

No butt

Huge butt

Knobby knees

Whatever your unique body story

We’re not meant to be carbon copies of each other

Stay active

Get strong

Eat healthy

Eat icecream

Take care of yourself

Just be your best you and love it.

-Krazy Aunt Kat

Life happens… Then what?

Posted on by Khadeejah in Creative writing, Inspirational, Journey, Lifestyle, Struggle, Uncategorized

Hello Sweeties!

It’s been a while. I just much prefer to blog on a computer rather than my phone and I haven’t been to the library in a bit… which explains my overdue DVDs. *lowers head in shame*

Feliz Sabado! It’s a frigid 20 degrees today in North East Michigan and my skin is not happy about it, neither is my heart, soul and spirit, lol.

Life if full of an accumulation of good and bad, happy and sad moments and happenings. It’s out of our control. But you know what is in our control? Our reactions. Our reactions to negative stimuli is ever so crucial to living a happier, healthier life. Mind you, oftentimes it’s far more easily said than done but I’m living proof that not only is it possible to remain positive and upbeat in the midst of trails, but also necessary.

Life will happen, and continue to happen, whether or not you’re in a good place, or equipped to deal with it. You can either sink or swim; those are your only options.

– Krazy Aunt Kat

I am happy to report that I am now officially, officially, official at my new job! I completed my job orientation on Wednesday and Thursday and let me just tell you, I have never in my life come across people who are so passionate about their jobs/place of employment. It blew my mind. I learned so much in those two days (8 hr both days) that will not only help me in my specific job, but also in my life and my future. I finished orientation feeling so inspired and life felt so full of promise.

Orientation started at 8 A.M. so I decided to stay with my sister for those days since I live about an hour from work. It all worked out… Until it didn’t. On Wednesday, several parts of Michigan experienced severe winds that caused some major power outages state-wide. Thankfully my sisters home kept its power and made the false assumption that my apartment would have kept its power. Wrong. Last night I got home, the lights were, sigh of relief. Then I opened my freezer, it didn’t feel as cold as it should have. Then I felt my frozen fruit… not as solid as I should have been, my ground beef, covered in ice crystals, also not as solid as it should have been. Crap.

So this morning I collected the contents of my freezer and fridge and  threw them in the dumpster. On the plus side, I honestly didn’t have much, however, I went to not having much to having almost nothing in the way of food. I do have pasta and sauce so I know what I’m having for dinner tonight: Spaghetti. I foresee myself losing a lot of weight in the coming weeks, but it’s all good. I praise God and take in my stride. I don’t get paid till Friday.My car needs gas, I’m hungry, bills need to be paid, still haven’t secured a second job, but I’m genuinely not kidding when I say I’m not worried. Worry isn’t going to help me in the least. Prayer and action are the only things that will help me. I’m going to keep applying for a second job, I’m going to use what little money that remains in my account to put gas in my car and buy a few things to eat. I may even splurge on some chocolate! I’m going to be just fine, and so will you.

Hugs and Kisses,

Krazy Aunt Kat