In 2022, my body collapsed under decades of trauma—fibroids, PTSD, and a shattered jaw from paternal violence. As a queer, brown migrant in the Netherlands, I faced medical gaslighting, isolation, and systemic barriers. Neuroscientist Robert Sapolsky’s stress model explains how chronic cortisol exposure ravaged my health, while Kimberlé Crenshaw’s intersectionality theory reveals how my identities amplified harm. Dutch bureaucracy deepened the crisis: debt, language barriers, and racism trapped me in cycles of pain. Yet survival came through therapy, community, and writing. This is not just my story—it’s proof that trauma is biological, political, and collective. To systems that tried to…

My childhood was a battleground—my father’s voice dictating obedience, his academic legacy a weight I could never match. At 13, the hijab became my cage; by 16, my body swelled under the pressure of his shame. In engineering school, I was just "the professor’s daughter," my brilliance always measured against his shadow. Even my PhD felt hollow—another milestone met, yet still deemed defiant. But my undiagnosed ADHD wasn’t failure; it was rebellion. My chaos, my questions, my refusal to shrink—each was resistance against a system built to silence me. Every time I challenged injustice or embraced my messy mind, I…

Tahrir Square, 2012: batons, tear gas, and my first taste of freedom. The Arab Spring wasn’t just revolution—it was rebellion against everything that suffocated me: my father’s violence, the hijab’s cage, my silenced queerness. I interviewed mothers of martyrs, designed slum revitalizations, and shed every chain—until the regime struck back. A university dean colluded with my father to trap me; rumors of "immorality" nearly got me killed. I fled, but the square never left me. My PTSD isn’t just wounds—it’s proof I fought back. Every flashback maps the cost of being a fat, queer atheist in a world that demanded…