It's been nearly 11 years since I first arrived to Brooklyn, where I lived with my Grandparents in Carroll Gardens (rest in peace) - but the trek from l'Afrique du Nord
is not far from my mind (will it ever be? it sort of shaped me). Coming to the USA from anywhere on earth that isn't caucasian and Christian dominated is either a dream come true, or a complete nightmare. Since I was brought here from beautiful Tangier, l'Moroc fully against my will (we don't kick and scream like children in the USA, but it was the equivalent of a kicking, screaming fit - I was far from the joyous fille I was known for being, and especially to end up in a place called Brooklyn, was far far from what I had dreamed up for myself and my future (always the dreamer, and yes even in Muslim nations little girls dream big). Fast forward ten years and hindsight, right? That old adage... I still love to visit home, and more regularly to visit Libya and Tunisia as it's where the majority of my family is located, but, the opportunities I've been offered are far from where I started. My big huge dreams consisted of figuring out how to charge extra for #mendhi in the street markets of Tetouan, without mindless tourists catching on, and one day maybe getting married - if I found the mister right who didn't abhor my big, huge dreams of bellydance and mendhi (still kind of looking haha) - but life in the USA, even amidst #NotMyPresident and the hatred slung towards the Muslim populous; has been a peaceful ride full of free shit. School, for example, is free in North Africa - higher education is not only encouraged but expected (especially for men. whoa! the segregation, women aren't all just baby making machines. save that for another post.), and in the USA you do what you want. School or not, you can make it as big as you can dream it. So I learned to dream bigger. I went to Parsons.
I graduated knowing how to head the wardrobe dept for theatre, and over the last ten years have learned fashion design, personal styling, wardrobe for film and TV... you name it. My own wardrobe is like twelve closets and yes I understand how covetous and creepy that may sound. The good thing is that IDGAF about that, your opinion of it, or most things.
The things I do care about: music, literature, loyalty, humility, knowledge, growth, and fucking adventure.
But none of that would have been possible had I not been dragged, kicking and screaming, to that awful place they called Brooklyn. Now I'm between Hollyweird and Vancouver, BC and life is good. Happily ever after does exist. Or maybe I'm just more in tune with gratitude than some others. I don't know. I started this post sober as fuck and now I'm faded af.
everyone check out my future girlfriend Ashley on IG 
peace, love, unity, respect
xx eliyah.
