personal update

Update - June 2019

Test shot from a personal project I’m working on

Test shot from a personal project I’m working on

It’s been a while since I’ve been on here. Almost 5 months to be exact. Wow, how my life has changed since January 31 2019. I’ve been through ups and downs that are usually attributed to the ups and downs of entire life-times, or so I believe. But this isn’t a personal life update so I am going to leave it at that. I will share a few professional ones.

Since my last post I’ve made some major career moves. For starters, I was commissioned by the amazing women at to create stock images that challenge conventional beauty standards. Totally up my street. I was among 135 female photographers from around the world that were selected to be part of the project, which went live around March 2019, and recently won a Golden Lion award at the Cannes Lions convention for exceptional content creation. The project was created in partnership with Getty Images and Dove, and I am really proud that my images made it to both the Getty platform as well as Dove advertisements around my city, Dubai. You can view the project here: A couple of the images I personally shot were featured in publications like #Superproud.

Another career move, which I consider to be pivotal to my aspirations as a storyteller and a documentarian is that I am officially a freelance producer with Kerning Cultures! Kerning Cultures is an audio storytelling podcast from the Middle East. What I love about KC is that shares carefully-made documentaries that push boundaries and tell stories from in-between spaces in our region, and it should be noted that they’re the first venture-backed podcast in the region. I released my first short audio documentary with them in March (to honor International Women’s Day) titled ‘Break the Cycle’. I’m currently working on a long-form story about the 2011 North-South Sudan split which is supposed to come out end of this month (very timely seeing as Sudan is going through a revolution at the moment). Both documentaries mean so much to me; gender + identity politics.

Since January I’ve also done a bunch of photo workshops (as part of Gulf Photo Plus Photo Week and others) and halo zine debuted its collaborative project at this year’s Art Dubai.

Finally, I’ve also joined the team at Sharjah Art Foundation as their content editor so I’ve been working a 9 to 5 with them since February (which explains my lack of activity on here).

Of course, I did all the above all while working on my own personal projects - which I hope will see light of day before the end of this year!!! I’m also waiting for a bunch of grants and programmes to get back to me about funding, support etc so fingers crossed.

That’s it for now. I’ll probably be back on here when I have the time and when I have more interesting things to share. But, like I said, we’re only halfway through 2019 and I already feel like it’s been a lifetime of changes.

a conversation with my sister about history, archiving and art

My sister recently interviewed me on about my latest project, the middle east archive project. While I do get some interest from digital publications about my work, my sister has always been the one to pick my brain (and I her’s) about the work that I do. She always asks me the most interesting questions, and is always unafraid to question and re-phrase my work. Also, she is objectively the best question-asker in the world. I think she’s such a thoughtful, creative person that it’s always such a fun experience to be in conversation with her about my work. I think anyone who talks to her feels the same way.

Anyway, I thought that it might also be interesting to post the interview on my blog too since I’ve always used my blog as a space to exhibit our conversations (like the time I wrote that post about Susan Sontag and copy-pasted our email exchange). So, in keeping with the tradition of airing my family interactions, here’s the discussion I had with my sister about my latest work.

MIDDLE EAST ARCHIVE PROJECT is a crowd-sourced digital archive from the MENA. It takes the accessibility of instagram, a space typically used for self-promotion and the ‘archives’ of contemporary life, to bring to the forefront personal Arab and MENA generational narratives that are brushed over and rarely seen all in one place.

Rama: As interdisciplinary artists, you and I are constantly looking for nuanced ways in which to explore identity. But I think we’ve spoken extensively about this delicate balance between identity politics and the real personal narrative that transcends any kind of surface level ID politics. What I love about how you started MIDDLE EAST ARCHIVE PROJECT is that it turns the discourse back to personal narratives that are complex and layered, that provide substance whilst still giving the stage to MENA individuals. 

Darah: Yes exactly. Also I think personal narrative says a lot more about identity politics than historical narrative does. We all know the supposed history of the region, but it’s what happens in our personal lives - collectively - that truly tells the story of a community, place, geography. 

R: As your sister I know that you have always had an interest and personal endeavour in uncovering old photographs like the ones that our parents have kept in old 80’s style albums and in Kodak envelopes among letters and poems and family records that we rarely get to see; because of the sheer volume of archival material they are difficult to sift through but they’re also endlessly fascinating. What prompted you to start this project? and in collecting material from others in the region as well? 

D: I think what prompted me is the realization that every home in the region (and it’s diaspora) is a kind of museum. It’s not just our home that has these huge volumes of records. I know for a fact that records exist in every home in the Global South. But unfortunately, due to a long history of colonialism, most of our family records are just that: at home, in private. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, but because the history of the region has always been written FOR it, by outsiders who don’t truly understand it, our family records become an alternative story to what history has written about the region. Family records provide nuance, showcase diversity, spirit, and a narrative closer to the “truth”. I’ve always been jealous of how in most Western cultures, they have museums dedicated to every strata of society and aspect of life. They have a holistic narrative. Their history is written by them and for them. With us, our true history lies inside our homes, suitcases, briefcases, jewelry boxes, envelopes, notebooks etc. I think this project is my way of saying: I want to reclaim our history and the narrative around it. 

R: I feel like theres a lot to say here about how our understanding of history and what counts as such is rigid and informed by a scientific methodology of recording or “explaining” that makes personal/oral histories subservient and conditional to those traditional methods that are held in higher regard. How do you think people seeing their own photographs among other people’s personal histories impacts them? 

D: It’s been so interesting seeing how people react. This actually didn’t even cross my mind before I started the project, but I noticed that once someone makes a submission and their history is kind of out there for the public to see, they become more invested in the history of others. They start following the project more closely, seeing what others are sharing about their families. I think for a lot of people they share their history because they are proud of it, and then once it’s out there, they wait in anticipation to see what others will share. It’s kind of like they suddenly become aware that others have a history that’s meaningful too. 

R: I have definitely felt that way after you had images of our family posted up! I follow the archive very closely. Its amazing because it’s like these strangers' stories truly become ours too in the process. You’ve cornered quite a niche here- in a sense you’re saying that the personal is political, in that it is necessary to see the intimate lives of MENA families reflected in what history we are writing as the “internet generation.” Why is it important to you to archive our private family histories in particular?

D: As I said, our family histories are the REAL museums of the region. The diversity of the stories shared with me so far, if pieced together, show a very different overall political, social, and economic dynamic than what our current written history shows. These personal histories are a reflection of the climate of the region at different points in time, and the many nuanced layers of the MENA that current orientalist and imperial narratives will never be able to capture. 

R: What I love in particular about this is that you’ve nonchalantly launched it on Instagram. You’re making something consequential and meaningful and its disrupting the usual Instagram flow. Where would you like to see this project going?

D: I started it on Instagram because I thought it would be the easiest and simplest way to get people’s family archives and showcase them. Ideally what I would like is for this project to become a sort of open and public digital library that is accessible to everyone. Especially to people invested in the history of the region, because it will help to challenge mainstream narratives. 

R: It might seem somewhat Pan-Arabist but I think it’s far more inclusive than that- it would do a disservice to your project to reduce it to that. It recognises the differences and provides nuanced untold stories. It is the Middle East that we really know within ourselves but that is scarcely reflected back at us in both the media that we consume and the history that we read. And on that note do you feel that such a collection deserves a formal physical space beyond Instagram that is widely accessible to the public? What would be your thoughts about this collection  displayed in an archive among the ‘public’ histories of MENA in a library or somewhere of that sort?

D: That is the dream! I think if this becomes some sort of on-going public library that anyone from around the world can just add to, and anyone from around the world can access, and where maybe researchers can come to find the answers they’re looking for, or maybe a missing link to a story they can turn to this project. As a person who does visual research, I know how hard it is to find records when you’re working on a story. This can totally change things, make it easier for journalists, researchers, historians, storytellers, writers and anyone invested in understanding the region to tell our history differently. The way it deserves to be told. 

Also you’re right - I think Pan-Arabist is a reductive box to put it in. As much as I love the spirit of Pan-Arabism that we were raised to believe in, I think it has been unfair to a lot of communities in the region - from Kurds, to Sudanese, and so on. Pan-Arabism said that it believed in inclusivity but it didn’t manage to be truly inclusive. I think a lot of political movements from that particular time, decolonization movements, didn’t succeed because they always had blindspots. Of course there are other geopolitical reasons - we can’t deny that - but there were blindspots. And for me, this project is trying to look back that the ideals of that time and improve on them. I believe that this project is about amplifying every single community that has an sort of relation to the MENA. I also hope to see other identities represented, including those that are currently repressed. 

You can find MIDDLE EAST ARCHIVE PROJECT on Instagram and submit your own records and stories by direct message, at @middleeastarchive.

I couldn’t find flowers the colour of your smile

my work was recently published in the HARAKA issue of Azeema magazine

my work was recently published in the HARAKA issue of Azeema magazine

I recently wrote a piece for Azeema mag titled “I couldn’t find flowers the colour of your smile”, a title inspired by a letter my father wrote to my mother in the late 1980s. At the time, my mother was living in Damascus and my father was serving in the Jordanian military making letters and postcards the only viable form of communication. I found these letters as well as a set of photographs that my mother kept stashed away in a worn out tie-dye album, and began examining them. These pieces of my parents’ history began to form a a larger picture in my mind of who I am - like pieces of a puzzle I have been trying to piece together for the longest time.

After interviewing my mother and asking her a million and one questions about why she never showed anyone these letters and photographs, I began writing an ode to their relationship. I never realised how much the Occupation had influenced their connection and it dawned on me that, had the Occupation never happened, there was a very high probability that my parents wouldn’t be together today. I worry that this take might romanticise the Occupation - but that is far from my intention. My intention is to showcase the ways in which the Occupation was a source of incredible pain for my parents and their families as well as a mobilising force of love; love that was passed down to me and my sisters. The Occupation taught us resilience, and in this case my parents’ love is a form of resilience.

I always felt a responsibility to be part of a movement to re-write our histories. This piece is my way of re-writing the narrative about the Palestinian experience, through a personal and individual lens. Global forces have made sure that the Palestinian experience was always written for us, and my writing aims to combat that by sharing a more humanising story within a larger story of what it means to be Palestinian today.

To read the whole piece, you can either grab a copy of Azeema’s HARAKA issue or through this link.

a little victory dance

FOCAL POINT is Sharjah Art Foundation’s annual art book fair running from 8 - 11 November 2018

FOCAL POINT is Sharjah Art Foundation’s annual art book fair running from 8 - 11 November 2018

Pardon me if I sound a little rusty writing this, but I am in the midst of reading “Death of the Author” by Ronald Barthes for my art writing class, and it’s a bit weird to go from reading about the downfalls of authorship to writing a blog post. In any case, this post won’t be very long, as I have the longest to-do list that I need to get back to. I just wanted to get on here quickly to share that follow the halo (the digital zine I founded almost exactly one year ago) will be at Sharjah Art Foundation this weekend for the annual art book fair!

It’s honestly a dream come true to have anything at Sharjah Art Foundation, let alone the printed works we’ve made in collaboration with artists from the MENA. I feel so proud - I’m proud of our work and also of myself. I feel proud of myself for taking a leap, for making myself uncomfortable, for doing things that I ordinarily thought “weren’t for me”.

I know that for many independent publishers, artists, and zine makers this isn’t really a ‘big deal’ - I can already imagine the very Dubai attitude of "oh, yeah, cool whatever” approach that many might have and are expected to have. I am sorry guys, I am the cringey Arab girl that gets excited at things like this, and really cherishes every tiny step forward. It’s always been a dream of mine to have my hard work acknowledged by a great institution like SAF, and I feel proud to be part of it.

I really hope that this is the beginning of many little victory dances because I’ve been dreaming big for over a year - and I have so many plans in mind that I am hoping to manifest before the end of this god-awful year. It’s been such a very difficult year so far - which means that every little reward goes a long way and it’s things like this that motivate me to keep going.

Anyway, enough personal disclosures. If you’d like to pass by the fair this weekend its running from 8 - 11 November at Sharjah Art Foundation for more info check out the event link on their website:

Please come down and support your local girl gang! xxx

personal update

These days, whenever I am in low spirits, I remember riot grrrl magazines

These days, whenever I am in low spirits, I remember riot grrrl magazines

Despite this being my website I tend to steer away from writing personal posts. To me my blog is a space for cultural production, where I promote the things I hold dear, support the culture and promote the stories often untold. Yet there is a part of me that sometimes feels the need to share how I authentically feel about myself and the world around me. I guess that comes from my inner need to be transparent with everything that I share. 

In recent weeks I've been in low spirits. Partly for personal reasons - which I won't share here - but also because sometimes things don't go the way we want them to. I say this while thinking of my project, follow the halo (Halo for short), which I've put so much love and energy into for a while now. I started Halo to support arts and culture in our region and to create an artistic community of inclusion and representation. The project is completely self-funded and independently published, using whatever resources are readily available. However, I am slowly learning that the system is built to make the sincere difficult. By that, I mean that in our region, for projects to gain momentum they need to be supported by certain people, have a certain "aesthetic" and backed by certain "brands", making growth characteristic of an unhealthy concoction of nepotism and luck. 

But I guess that's why I began Halo to start with, right? I wanted a grassroots and DIY project that challenged the status quo; Halo is about putting a message of representation out there and creating a community, so I guess difficulty and challenges are existent by definition. My question is, however, how did we get here? In my low spirits, I find myself wondering what got us to this point? Is it technology? Is it capitalism? Since when was it so easy for the voices of the sincere to be drowned out especially in our region? I miss a time - that time being the region's infancy - when access to opportunity wasn't so unequal. 

To console myself, I've been thinking about Riot Grrrl, an alternative, independent DIY publication that took feminism by storm in the late 80s/early 90s with its boldness and punk aesthetic. Made up of homemade newsletters, art, articles, and mini-zines, Riot Grrrl was an anti-status quo movement that became a right of passage for many young women around the world. Today it is remembered as an art form that began the trend of independent publishing as resistance (kind of what Halo is to me) and is revered as a symbol of feminist cultural production. I think about Riot Grrrl and of all the institutions that it pissed off and feel like maybe, just maybe, Halo will be the next Riot Grrrl. To me, that's the dream. 

Or, it will never be Riot Grrrl. And that's okay too, but I will have to keep trying until something ends up working right? But until then, I will continue to work hard and make sure Halo is the sincerest form of itself that it can be. Right now I will honor the difficulties that I am facing and recognize that they are part of the journey.