Issue No. 3: Words from the Wise

Anum Iqbal_daadi photo_WEB.png

my daadi visited me in my dream last night. as with many desi families, she lived with us while i was growing up and passed away when i was in high school. bearing witness to her journey through healing after a stroke that left half her body paralyzed will always be one of the biggest privileges of my life. in my dream we were watching pakistani dramas and she asked me to get a comb so she could brush out my hair before braiding it. woke up missing her terribly. missing the sound of her voice. the taste of her cooking. the feeling of her hand in mine.

‘we are our ancestors wildest dreams.’ i’ve been reflecting on this a lot lately. about how i’m only here, crawling towards my dreams, because of the women who came before me. who raised my grandparents and parents to think critically, to not simply accept things as they are. i often wonder if they’d think me too ‘wild.’ i know there are many beliefs of theirs i do not share. but i’m also learning that maybe it’s not about believing in all the same things. maybe that’s never really what they wanted. maybe, my foremothers just wanted me to have the room to build on what they left behind. forever standing on the shoulder of giants.