Rana

Rana

@ranaabdelhamid

“After 9/11 there was fear, anxiety, mourning, sadness. A lot of Muslims kept their heads down. People changed their names. For me personally, I internalized self-hate. I always saw being Muslim as just another community in a city that embraces diversity. But then my identity was given a negative connotation, and I felt less connected to my culture. I didn’t want to identify with my Egyptian background. I didn’t want people to know.”

“I was born and raised by two Egyptian immigrants in an immigrant-heavy community in Queens. The community was all immigrants, undocumented, working class, of color who came to New York with this really great vision of what the future could be.”

“Sometimes I think about my parents like, ‘how did they do it?’ I speak the language, I have a job. Everything for them was about sacrifice and love for the next generation. Everything was about survival in a city that’s so rough. In a way that also created so much beauty, that retained and transported culture. I think everything in my life goes back to being born and raised in Queens. I represent Queens so hard!”

“I love to walk around these immigrant neighborhoods like 82nd Street in Jackson Heights. It just reminds me of my childhood. The smell of food, the hollering of vendors. For me, that’s New York.”

“It was post 9/11. I was fifteen, and I was walking down Jamaica Avenue. The street was busy, and suddenly, a man attacked me and tried to take off my hijab. I remember seeing this broad-shouldered man hovering above me. The only reason I was able to get my attacker off of me was because I had been doing karate since I was seven. I had a black belt. I still felt very small and weak.

I spent the months following feeling scared and isolated, not being able to walk down my street and feel safe. It was very shaking.”

“After that experience, I started teaching self-defense for girls at a community center, and I started my non-profit, Malikah. We’re not just focused on self-defense. The most beautiful part of Malikah is our healing spaces. I call it ‘the AA of race and gender’. Women come and gather and we talk about the trauma we carry and experience in our present lives, but also what we carry historically. How do we build safety and create power for all women? We do selfdefense, healing justice, organizing training, and literacy training.”

“I’m at the intersection of this yuppie culture, and this very traditional world. I work in tech at Google and then I’m in the mosque. But I’m also part of this transient culture. It’s been really tricky for me to navigate, being part of two worlds that are so far apart from each other.”

“Every time I travel I miss New York. I just came back from a big trip, visiting seven different countries. I came back to the city and I was so overjoyed. The blessing of being in a place so diverse, that affords opportunity. Then I get sad as well because I see these massive buildings and I think, ‘What is going to be the reality of these communities in five years?’ In Astoria, 30% of the subsidized housing has been lost. And it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“What I love about Queens is the way our streets beautifully sing ‘foreign’ but always unapologetically belonging here. Like it’s the only place where no one can tell us we don’t belong. I love the way we gift Spanish, Arabic, Bangla, Korean, and Urdu with New York slang we picked up on stoops. 800 languages here. I love the way our hustle breaks backs, bending faces peacefully into laps on late subway rides home. I love the way our ‘safety’ has been carefully crafted by older immigrants, developed to make me, and the other immigrant children in the neighborhood, feel whole and affirmed in our identities. And I love their stories. Each of our immigrant parents holds a story-one that always starts with something between $3 and $15 in a pocket, a voyage across a vast sea, and a cash-only hustle sheltering families in jam-packed busted Queens apartments.”

“I love the way our women rock shalwar kameez and Timbs. The way our women rock their cornrows and headwraps. I love the Yemeni mother who started the corner street deli on my block, the father still driving that taxi cab plastered with pictures of family from el blad, the homeland, blasting reggaeton or Quran. I love how public school hallways burst of first-gen children carrying gratitude and endless sacrifice past broken, segregated school systems, exploitation and discrimination. How our parents built so much with nothing, from nothing. Dreams of future through generations. Never for them, always for others. Little Egypt falafel, K-Town barbecue, Chinatown dumplings, Corona empanadas, Jackson Heights jhal and chai. In Queens, even when they never learned how to pronounce our names, we gently breathe life into the American dream, over and over again.”

Q&A

What neighborhood do you live in? I live in Flushing, Queens. I grew up in Astoria, Queens. I rep Queens hard hard.

Favorite neighborhood? I love Queens. I know that Queens is a whole entire borough and not a neighborhood. But every neighborhood in Queens feeds my soul in another way.

Favorite street to stroll? I love Little Egypt on Steinway Street. It’s where you can find a great night scene with Arabic music and belly dance vibes. In the morning you can walk down the street and smell the sweetness of knafeh and fresh bread, stores blasting a mix of Egyptian trap music and Quran, almost like you’re in downtown Cairo, but you’re not.

Favorite restaurant? Not a restaurant, but Mahmoud’s Corner Halal spot is by far the best halal spot in NYC. It’s on 34th Avenue and Steinway.

Favorite bar? Eeep. I don’t drink, so I’d have to say Layali Dubai is my go-to night spot.

Hidden gem? The JMart food court in Flushing. There’s every single East Asian cuisine your heart desires in one spot.

How to be(come) a New Yorker? Be in New York in a way that is not extractive. Be invested in the local community, in your neighbors; recognize that you moving into a neighborhood is probably doing harm to the local community. Be engaged to make things better.

Your New York soundtrack? Blessings by Chance the Rapper.

“ You can still find that interconnectedness between communities here because we organize. That is the magic of New York–going to street community fairs or attending a block party and rubbing shoulders with a diverse crowd.”

5 THINGS THAT TELL A STORY ABOUT RANA

BLACK BELT “It represents years and years of commitment and dedication. Being able to test my own emotional and physical strength, and then coming out of it with a very tangible skill that I could pass on to other women. It’s part meditative practice, part strengthening, part sport, part tradition.”

POCKET RUMI “I love reading and writing. They’ve both been an integral part of my life since childhood. This is one of my favorite books. It’s a short book with poems from Rumi.”

WEDDING PHOTO “Reminder that I come from love. Being a child of immigrants, seeing their hustle and sacrifice and all the difficulties and hardships they’ve been through, I sometimes forget my parents were once young people, too.”

PAINTING OF ANCIENT EGYPTIAN WOMEN “It is part of my legacy and history of knowing that Egyptian women have been and continue to be so powerful. The way I was raised, seeing the immigrant community my mom was a part of, all of the aunties that helped raise me. This painting reminds me of that.”

PRAYER BEADS / MAT “As someone who travels a lot–a lot!–my on-the-go prayer mat has a compass which directs me. No matter where I go, I am rooted in the five daily prayers. My center has God, love, and faith. Being able to bring that practice with me is important.”