From Monday to Friday, women are a minority in our centre and in our classes. But on Saturdays they’re not. Saturdays belong to the women.
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We stopped and exchanged a few simple sentences, just the usual “How are you”, but it was a big step for her and the smile of satisfaction on her face showed her pleasure. Often just little things like that have made me feel joyous.
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"I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own."—Audre Lorde
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I turned to Patrick. “Patrick, I feel like the whole hillside is thanking us,” I said. He smiled knowingly. “And the trees.”
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I’m sure everyone feels the same way about laundry. Watching the pile of clothing on your chair grow higher and higher throughout the week, this only adds to the feeling of resentment towards picking it all up and throwing it in the washing machine.
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When you’re new, you don’t know what to expect. The thought of arriving in a new country to work with a volunteer organization for the first time can be overwhelming…
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Dragging each foot, one by one, up the steep slope of the camp. It’s just early enough that the endless cement hasn’t fully absorbed the sun of a summer day in Greece. The straps of a well-worn Ikea bag dig into my shoulders as I drag piles of books, flashcards, and water up the hill.
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This year was different – I decided to spend half of Ramadan on Samos, volunteering with the refugee community here.
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Two big brown eyes are staring up at me. Someone pulling my shirt from behind. I look around. Ten more pairs of big brown eyes are staring up at me. ‘My friend, my friend’ I hear. Little hands are held up in front of my nose.
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