Wahid's Words

It is up to celebrities to uplift and highlight the narratives of their fans. By buying into their product (their music, their humor, their beauty), our investment is a crucial component of their survival. Celebrities that not only understand, but acknowledge this codependent relationship between their fans and themselves are those that I am proud to support.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sophia Bush is one of my favorite celebrities- although the initial fascination started with her heart shaped lips and raspy voice that lent itself so well to the heartache that was Brooke Davis on One Tree Hill, it quickly transitioned into an admiration for her dedication to using her platform to better the world. From her environmental advocacy, to her pursuit of giving girls and women an equal access to education, to advocating on behalf of the LGBTQ+ community through media campaigns and fundraising events, she is the epitome of the "activist" we want ou...

An oath I made to myself about the student government elections. I need this constant reminder to stay true to myself, and my beliefs in the democratic process. I will not tire in my pursuit of getting good people that have a passion and dedication and ability to do their work to public office. This I will pursue for the rest of my life, in whatever capacity I can. I hope you will all join me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Open letter to USAC: I know your elections are coming up. I know I've involved myself in them intensely. I know that I'm pretty much living and breathing this for the past 2 months, and it's only going to get worse. I know that most people, unlike me, don't really care, and vote so they can say "I already voted" on Bruinwalk during election week with a clean conscience. I also know the power of a vote- this tune for me has never changed. Voting is a sacred right, and I believ e anyone anywhere anytime deser...

She was magnificent. Tall, curvy, dark hair but light enough to glimmer in the sun. Expressive with her face. Everything about her was, some might say, perfect. And he felt it too. Watching her from his favorite street side tea vendor, he observed her; the perfect woman, shopping for clothes, without a care in the world - that in her world, she was the definition of an outcast. When did this happen? When did he turn into the kid that was ogling older women, dissecting their every move? He swore this wasn't the way his mother raised him. Ah, there it was. His mother. His sweet, delicate, doting mother who was a formidable woman in her own right. She'd done everything a mother, a wife, a woman in their society, was supposed to do. And she excelled at it all. So what had changed? When had this woman that he'd known all his life turned into a mystery? ~~~~~ He'd just come back from his evening tutoring session for A Level Chemistry, found his parents' door c...

I've been meaning to write for a while but every time I sit down to write one of two things happen; A. it's a political issue I want to comment about (better suited to social media) or B. it's too personal of an account on the inner workings of my 20-year-old-that-thinks-he's-full-of-wisdom mind. Point being, I haven't blogged in a really long time. So I picked a fairly easy topic: politeness. I've learned that the concept of society is a strictly political one. When we learned to build and organize and realized we had too many mouths to feed to just roam around from land to land, we settled down, figured out how to coexist with other humans trying to fend for themselves, and began to mate within, and then finally, outside of our settled communities.  So then, collections of people didn't really interact with other collections of people, until quite recently. This concept of "be kind to your neighbors" is also a fairly new concept (one that,...

I am not okay. I'm in free fall. Since Wednesday, nothing has been right. I was given no time, no space to process. Thrown to the wolves that are finals and packing and moving out. For the first time in my life, I don't have the energy to cram all night for finals. For the first time, I am not satisfied with the 15 page paper I cranked out in 4 hours. For the first time, I experience a breakdown, where all my systems fail me and only my bed seems to offer any comfort. Am I even allowed to grieve for this? I was in my room. There was no threat to my safety in reality. But there was in those 3 hours. In those 3 hours, I had to think about the possibility of saying goodbye to this wonderful world, or some equally wonderful person that belongs in this world, to a firearm placed in someone's hand who has no business holding that firearm. It happened. Our school went into lockdown. I feared for the lives of my loved ones. I feared not teasing Baba again, not hugging Maa aga...