Posted on by shirindawna

get on the broom.

after watching wicked, the musical that somehow manages to be about witches, systemic injustice, and friendship all at once, i’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to find the people who will get on the broom with you. if you’ve seen the stage production, you know the story goes beyond “defying gravity.” but if you’re only familiar with the upcoming movie, that’s where it ends—a moment of defiance, courage, and choosing to rise above the noise.

it’s the perfect stopping point, really, because that’s where the magic happens. elphaba makes her choice, and she flies…but she doesn’t do it alone. it’s her friendship with glinda, complicated and imperfect as it is, that gives the moment its weight. watching that, i couldn’t help but think about how important it is to find the people in your life who would stand by you at that edge. the ones who wouldn’t just cheer from the ground but would climb on the broom too.

the truth is, not everyone will. some people will hesitate, worried about what the crowd will think. others might step back entirely, afraid of what it costs to stand beside someone who’s choosing to go against the grain. some people avoid conflict at all costs. they shrink to fit in, stay quiet to keep the peace, and dodge anything that feels uncomfortable. it might seem harmless until you need them. if they’ve never stood up for themselves, why would they stand up for you? when the pressure is on, they hesitate. they retreat. maybe they even excuse it with, “i didn’t want to make it worse,” or “i wasn’t sure what to say.” and just like that, you’re standing at the edge, broom in hand, flying solo. and that’s okay. not everyone is meant to take that ride with you.

…those who hesitate, the ones who can’t quite make the leap? they’re the cowardly lions of your life. they may mean well, but fear keeps them grounded, unable to roar when it matters most.

but the ones who do? they’re everything. these are the friends who don’t need to be convinced. the ones who are ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you, even if it means risking their own comfort or reputation. they don’t just go along for the ride when it’s easy…they show up when it’s hard.

it’s a theme that’s been on my mind a lot lately, not just after wicked, but also after reading the lion women of tehran. the women in that book remind me of elphaba in so many ways. they are fierce, defiant, and willing to risk everything to stand up against oppression and fight for what’s right. they don’t just follow the crowd. they roar against it. but what struck me most about them was their strength as a collective. their power wasn’t just in their individual bravery but in their willingness to support one another, to build a sisterhood that refused to be silenced. they didn’t just get on the broom, they carried each other when it got too heavy to fly alone.

life has its share of mobs. crowds that will try to pull you back down to the ground. that’s why you need friends who can hold their ground, who choose integrity over ease, and who will always have your back. the lion women of tehran had that kind of strength. they remind us that true power comes from solidarity, from finding the people who will fight beside you, even when the world is against you.

maybe this resonated with me because, truth be told, i’ve always been a little witchy myself. not in an obvious way, but in the sense of owning the parts of me that feel a little rebellious, a little unconventional. witches (and lion women) have always been a symbol of women who refused to play by the rules, and i’ve never been one to follow a script. and like any good witch, i know that my power is amplified by the people who stand beside me. the ones who see the magic in me and aren’t afraid to rise alongside it.

watching wicked and reading the lion women of tehran reminded me that those friendships and alliances aren’t just nice to have…they’re essential. whether you’re defying gravity or standing up against a system that wants to silence you, you need people who will get on the broom. if you don’t have them yet, don’t settle. hold out for the ones who remind you that flying together isn’t just easier…it’s everything.

and if you already have those people in your life, hold on tight. there’s nothing more powerful than a friend who chooses you, every single time.

Posted on by shirindawna

let them.

it’s become a mantra of sorts…a quiet, almost passive permission we give to the world around us. let them. it’s simple, freeing in theory, but it’s not that easy. it’s the ultimate “don’t sweat the small stuff” whisper to ourselves, yet it’s much more nuanced than that.

let them leave without explaining themselves. let them cancel plans last minute. let them say what they need to say, even if it cuts. let them live however they need to live. the concept is about relinquishing control, the impossible, gut-wrenching, soul-baring release of your grip on other people’s actions and, by default, your reactions.

i’ve tried it. letting people do their thing, letting them show you who they are without you trying to manage, control, or convince them otherwise. let them, right? but here’s the thing: letting them doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. it doesn’t mean you don’t sit there with the silence after the storm, feeling the ache of the absence, the sting of unmet expectations. it doesn’t mean you stop caring.

but it does mean you stop holding your breath for people to be different than who they are.

i used to get wrapped up in the idea of people. how they could be, if they just did this or that, or if life hadn’t jaded them, or if they cared less about what others think, or if they just tried harder, or if they weren’t so insecure. the fantasy of potential is a dangerous thing. but “let them” is a reality check. people are who they are, and they will do what they want to do with or without your input, your nudging, or your wishes.

so what happens when you “let them?” it doesn’t mean you lose your boundaries or lower your standards. it just means you stop taking on the burden of changing someone else. you step back and let them walk their path, make their choices. and you decide what you want to do with the aftermath.

let them show you who they are, and believe them when they do.

there’s a quiet power in that. it’s not about giving up or being indifferent; it’s about acknowledging that everyone is living their own experience. the way they treat you, the choices they make, that’s their business. how you respond? well, that’s yours.

so, the next time someone disappoints you, falls short, or doesn’t meet your unspoken expectations? let them. and let yourself walk away if you need to.

because at the end of the day, it’s not just about letting them do what they do, it’s about letting yourself choose peace over control. and maybe, just maybe, that’s the real win.

Posted on by shirindawna

normal girls are boring.

i’ve noticed something about myself. i hold off on writing about health scares until there’s some kind of ending. some neat resolution to wrap it all up in a bow. it’s easier that way, isn’t it? you wait until the answers come, tuck the panic into a little box, and move on with your life. today, i don’t have that luxury. there’s no bow, no resolution. this week has been brutal. we’re stuck in the gut-wrenching space where everything is just…uncertain. everything is a question, and every answer feels like smoke slipping through your fingers. “it might be nothing, but it could be something.” and this time, it’s not me in the hot seat. it’s him. my husband.

people keep saying, “don’t worry, it’s probably fine.” i know they mean well, and maybe they’re right (oh please, let them be right). but i’ve heard those words before. they said it about my dad, and it wasn’t fine. they said it about me, and it wasn’t fine then, either.

so, here i am, stuck in this messy middle, the space between hope and fear, where every second feels heavier than the last. my mind’s racing, and i’m rationing my energy like it’s the last bit of air in the room. i’m careful, so careful, about who i let in. i know one wrong word could send me spiraling, and i can’t afford that right now.

i hate this part. the uncertainty. the waiting. all of it. 

Posted on by shirindawna

that’s that me espresso.

oh, the people who just can’t seem to handle it when a woman speaks her mind – what a fascinating breed. the ones who act like my voice is something that needs to be “toned down,” “polished,” or better yet, silenced altogether. let’s be real, they’re not silencing me because i’m wrong. they’re doing it because deep down, they know i’m right, and the truth makes them uncomfortable. too bad, because i’m not here to cater to fragile egos or tiptoe around the fact that i’ve got something to say. it’s never gonna be me, babe. never has been. never will be.

they slap on a smile, acting like they’re doing me a favor, telling me, “maybe you’re coming across too harsh,” or “you’d be more likable if you didn’t talk about certain things.”

oh, honey, i’m not here to be likable. if you want a watered-down version of me, go sip on someone else’s vanilla latte, because this is espresso—straight up.

these silencing types love to disguise themselves as “well-meaning,” like they’re just trying to help me out. as if i need their unsolicited advice on how to be more palatable. newsflash: i don’t need anyone to turn my volume down. i’m not some background noise for your comfort; i’m the whole damn concert, and the amps are cranked to eleven. if you can’t handle the music, the door’s right there.

here’s the real deal: they’re not silencing me because i’m too loud, or wrong, or “too much.” they’re silencing me because i make them face things they don’t want to deal with. i’m holding up a mirror to their outdated, misogynistic views, and they can’t stand the reflection. instead of evolving, they’d rather try to shut me up, like i’m the problem. but the joke’s on them because every time they try to silence me, it just makes me louder.

and let’s be honest—it’s almost funny how they think they have the power to dictate when and where i should speak. like, sweetie, you don’t have that kind of influence. women have been silenced for centuries, and look where that’s gotten us—nowhere we’re staying. i’ve got too much to say, and if you think a few snide comments or attempts to shut me down are going to work, you’re about to get hit with a reality check. i’ve got my own voice, and i sure as hell am not going to let anyone turn down the volume.

so, to the people who think they can silence me (or any other woman): take a seat. i don’t cater to other people’s insecurities, and i definitely don’t cater to people who think i should sit pretty and stay quiet. i’ve got things to say, and if that makes you uncomfortable, well, maybe it’s time to ask yourself why the truth bothers you so much.

i’ve never cared what anyone else thinks, and i’m definitely not about to start now. i’m done with other people’s rules. and their opinions? nothing but background noise to the sound of women taking up the space we’ve always deserved, no permission needed.