2017 was a year filled with many learning opportunities. For the first time in my life, I was working one part I’m job with an organization called T.U.F.F Girls. I thank God for giving me that opportunity. It was one of the best experiences and opportunities of my life. I was honored to be a part of a space where young black and brown girls thrive, in healing, protecting and liberating, not only themselves but, each other and their communities. While I was given that opportunity , I also stood face to face with opposition. During the beginning of the semester. Monday September 5th, Labor Day to be exact, I loss my Uncle Mustafa. He was shot and murdered, in my grandmother’s house. A place where me and siblings grew up, a place that we will all never share memories again because that one memory alone will haunt us for the rest of our lives. 3 months down the line almost to the exact same day I lost my little cousin, Qaahir. He was murdered and shot also. Our last DM’s were us talking about the death of my uncle which whom he was related to, and then he was dead. Qaahir’s funeral was one of the most beautiful funerals I ever attended. Qaahir is Muslim, and he had a Jananzah. The Imam talked about how we are attached to worldly things, even people. We get so distraught , over things instead of embracing God over everything even human flesh. We can’t detach ourselves from people and let them go. You can mourn , but then you have to move on , because we can’t put any one thing or person before God and what he asks of you. In Islam the belief is that you go back as you have come from the earth back into the earth. They said a Janazah Prayer for my cousin; all of the Muslim women standing behind the Muslim men standing and reciting a silent prayer in front of Qaahir’s physical flesh and body , but speaking to Allah and asking to open the gates of heaven for my Qaahir, to make his spot spacious in heaven. It is tradition in Islam to go into the ground as you came into this world. Qaahir was put into the ground just wrapped in a blanket, no casket. His mother my aunt was is the same grave beneath him. His family and friends, then covered him in dirt , with shovels and their hands. Qaahir was back with my Aunt.