Love, Hate and Other Filters

by Samira Ahmed

You are still young. Free . . . Do yourself a favor. Before it’s too late, without thinking about it first, pack a pillow and a blanket and see as much of the world as you can.

This is why they invented drugs for heartburn.

“Aspirin is a blood thinner. If it hurts, take ibuprofen.”

And the Muslim? The Indian? That girl, she doesn’t even get the dream of the football captain. She gets a lifetime of being stopped by the FAA for random bag searches every time she flies. She gets the nice boy, the sensible boy, the one her parents approve of and who she will grow to love over years and children and necessity.

Let her find her new world, too, as you did all those years ago.”

And it should be super depressing. It is, kind of. But there’s this little moment, where she feels joy and sadness at the same time, and what she realizes is that you can find life even when you think it eludes you—

that hope is just a million shards of broken glass.

Sometimes I think that letter is why documentaries need to exist—to show us the almost unbearable truth about ourselves.

“Thank you for bringing Maya back home. And for helping her. We are indebted to you.”

This makes me feel uncomfortable

That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

you are known. You are loved. You are enough. Let your light shine. I wrote this book for you.