Marcelle Shehwaro
In the beginning I was beautiful, as I was filled only with the powerful beauty of the revolution, with the pure belief that we were here to make a change and that hatred could never be a way to make change; and that we had no alternative but to be patient and wait for the... Continue Reading →
Am I capable of killing? If somebody had asked me this question five years ago, being a person who used to decorate her desk with Jesus’ advice to Peter—“Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword”—I would probably have swiftly, and naively, answered: “Impossible! I... Continue Reading →
Christmas used to have a special meaning in my family, full of spiritual and familial rituals. As children, my sister Leila and I used to take turns throughout the night watching out for Santa Claus, waiting to catch him “in the act”. I cannot remember clearly when we realized it was a trick played by... Continue Reading →
I see my psychotherapist on a weekly basis, without any of the feelings of shame widespread in our society regarding this practice. But I have a barrel of guilt inside me that is wearing away what is left of the love of life in my heart. Wednesday at noon is the time I steal away... Continue Reading →
“I should have cried.” This is the only thing that goes through my head over and over again when I remember the little girl that was torn into pieces. I don't know anything about her, and from her remains I couldn’t guess her age, but I do remember how I stood there, distraught. I didn't... Continue Reading →
I open Facebook to find a birthday greeting. I grasped the opportunity to return the greeting, making up for those three years in which I couldn't send him birthday wishes. Those were the three years he spent in prison for writing on the Internet. I used to contribute to his site. It was called Akhawia. Karim... Continue Reading →
Very few Syrians have not experienced compulsory displacement. The fact of having to move from one place to another, abandoning the tangible present while ruminating on memories over and over again until they’re worn out. And like many Syrians, I too have a story involving houses—“luckily”, I should add, because for hundreds of thousands of people... Continue Reading →
Perhaps I have overwhelmed you with the details of my personal loss, telling you in a previous article the story of my mother and the murderer that grew in me after she was killed. But today I don’t think I can talk about what’s going on in Syria without conveying to you the cries of... Continue Reading →
When I was asked to write about the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq (ISIS), I left the blank page open on my computer for several days. How was I to write about ISIS for others, for people who have not suffered the same amount of violence and chaos? And what responsibility do we as... Continue Reading →
For you to understand the situation more accurately, allow me to place you in the place and time it happened, and offer some details. The Time: October 7, 2013. It was the night my friend Abdulwahab Almulla, a rebel and an artist, was kidnapped. It happened during the period when kidnappings became common, before Syrians... Continue Reading →
On The Edge of Syria 