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Ayman El Mansouri
Jun 13, 2025
Loss and Rebuilding
I didn’t leave my home to chase a better life, I left to survive. One night the sound of bombs was too close, my daughter was too scared, and my mother whispered: “Go. You’re young. Save her.” I remember locking the door of our house, knowing I might never come back. I left behind my father’s olive trees, the neighbors who watched me grow, the street food vendor who called me “little sister.” In Belgium, I found safety. But safety does not erase grief. It took years for me to sleep without guilt, to smile without shame. Yet now, when my daughter reads Dutch books to me at bedtime, I realize: I didn’t just escape war, I chose life.
Amira Bayoumi
Jun 13, 2025
The Hard Part
I thought the hardest part was leaving home crossing borders, saying goodbye. But no one warned me about the silence that comes after. In Belgium, I couldn’t read the letters in my mailbox or find the words to ask the bus driver where to stop. In my country, people greet you with laughter, offer tea to strangers, argue loudly, and love openly. Here, everything felt still distant. Over time, I began to learn the rhythm: How Belgians say “sorry” even when you step on their foot, the calm of their bike rides, the value of personal space. The comfort they find in space and silence. Now, I haven’t lost who I am I’ve expanded. I carry two cultures in one heart ❤️❤️❤️
Yasmin Bayoumi
Jun 18, 2025
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Rami Al-Sabbagh
Jun 22, 2025
The Mirror Wasn’t Me!
For a long time, I didn't recognize myself. I would look in the mirror and see another version of myself what I wore, how I acted, what job I wanted. I followed the script. I got the degree, the 9-to-5 job, and the relationship that looked good on paper. But inside, I was gradually fading away. One day, I was over it all; I just needed to feel something real. That's when I promised myself: I would start choosing what felt right, not just what looked right. It's still messy. But now, at least, when I look in the mirror, I see myself. But choosing to be yourself, especially when it doesn't conform to your society's expectations, has a price. I stopped pretending. I stopped blindly following. And eventually, even staying was no longer legal. It wasn't because of the war my country was safe. The streets are quiet. The buildings are standing. But the war was inside me. It was a war between who I was told to be and who I actually was. There, people left because of the bombs. I left because of the silence. Because I couldn't continue hiding. Because I knew deep down that my community and my country would never understand me. I didn't leave with a group; I left alone. Even here, where I feel free, it's not always easy. The locals don't know me. And I don't fit their expectations either. Everyone wants to put me in a box. But I've spent my whole life trying to break out of it. People say, "Why did you leave? There's no war in your country." But not all wars are loud. Some are subtle. And sometimes, peace outside doesn't mean peace inside. And now, I'm still searching for a community—not one that tolerates me, but one that sees me. Maybe that community still exists. And maybe if you're open it can start with you!!
Sophie Vermeulen
Jun 22, 2025
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Jasper Willems
Jun 22, 2025
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Amira Bayoumi
Jun 23, 2025
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Mira Mo
Jun 23, 2025
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kristof
Jun 23, 2025
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Amira Bayoumi
Jun 23, 2025
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