By Naazi Morad, For decades, she stayed. Through the lies, the disappearances, the broken promises. Through the withdrawals and the relapses. Through the birthdays missed and the bruises hidden....
For decades, children who didn’t sit still, didn’t follow instructions, or didn’t fit the mold were given labels. Some were called “naughty.” Others were told they were “slow.” And...
By Naazi Morad There’s a quiet grief that settles in when a seasoned employee is asked to step aside, not because they’ve failed, but because they’ve aged. In boardrooms...
By: Naazi Morad There are wounds the body carries that the soul cannot name. A scratch, a pull, a ritual repeated until the skin breaks—not out of malice, but...
By: Naazi Morad Reclaiming space, rewriting love, and healing the wounds we were taught to ignore.There’s a quiet kind of heartbreak that comes when you realize the people closest...
Some hearts are born generous; they will give their last meal, their last breath, their last bit of strength to someone they love, without thinking twice. These hearts don’t...
By Naazi Morad By: A Mother Who Stayed, Even When Unseen There’s a particular ache that parents carry, one that does not stem from conflict or rebellion, but from...
By Naazi Morad Everyone called him “The Rock.”Not because he was strong, but because he never cracked.Not once. Not in grief. Not in love. Not even when his mother...
By A Mother Who Remembers What You Forget By: Naazi Morad Ask me how I fed you when the cupboards were bare. Ask me what my hands looked like...
By: Naazi Morad There are two kinds of givers in this world. The first are those who give from the stage. Their hands reach out, but their eyes look...