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Tiny Gifts
In I Did Not Survive. I Just Refused To Stop. essays, poetry, memories, humor, and observation come together in a deeply personal examination of the expectations placed on women. What expectations placed on women were you most interested in questioning through the book?
The expectations placed upon a woman are so contradictory that it confuses me: Educated, but not too opinionated.
Successful, but not too independent.
Confident, but not intimidating.
Funny, but not too loud.
Strong, but still feminine.
Ambitious, but preferably in a way that doesn’t inconvenience anyone.
I grew up watching how early that checklist begins. Get an education. Get a respectable career. Look beautiful. Get married to the “right” man. Have children. Keep the family happy. Adjust. Compromise. Stay quiet when necessary. And somehow, after all of that, still be grateful and keep looking beautiful.
What interested me was not simply the existence of these expectations, but how normal they become. We stop noticing them. We start mistaking conformity for character and sacrifice for virtue.
The book asks what happens when a woman says, “But what if I don’t want that?”
What if she wants a different career? What if her marriage ends? What if she wants to be loud, complicated, ambitious, emotional, messy, spiritual, angry, funny, or simply Human.
What if she doesn’t want to spend her entire life adjusting herself to fit neatly into someone else’s idea of a woman?
I was also interested in the contradiction of being told that women are free while being given very specific instructions about what that freedom should look like.
Even something as simple as becoming “Mrs.” can carry an entire cultural expectation — as though marriage changes the woman’s identity, while the man remains exactly who he was.
So I suppose the biggest question underneath the book is this:
At what point does becoming the woman everyone expects you to be leave no room for the woman you actually are?
I don’t think the answer is that women should reject every tradition, every relationship, or every expectation.
I think we should be allowed to question them.
And perhaps, occasionally, say:
No. That doesn’t work for me. And not need permission to be.
How has your understanding of faith changed through periods of grief, anger, uncertainty, and personal growth?
I think my understanding of faith has become quieter.
When I was younger, I thought faith was supposed to make everything make sense. Pray, believe, do the right things, and somehow life would follow a reasonable equation.
From “do good and good will come to you”
Life happened to
“no good deed goes unpunished.
Grief happened. Anger happened. Uncertainty happened. Things I prayed for did not always happen. Things I never asked for did.
And I had questions.
A lot of them.
We are often told not to question God, not to get angry with Him, and things of the sort. I think the opposite. You only question, have expectations of, or get angry with those you actually love. So why should having questions mean that you have less faith?
I learned that having questions does not necessarily mean having less faith. Sometimes it means taking your faith seriously enough to question what you have been taught about it.
I also began to separate faith from culture.
That distinction became very important to me. I have seen people use religion to police a woman’s clothes, her choices, her marriage, her divorce, her voice — sometimes with extraordinary confidence and remarkably little curiosity.
But when I went looking for God, I found something much bigger than other people’s rules about what a “good” Muslim woman should look like.
My faith became less about performing goodness for other people and more about the relationship between me and God.
It became less about having all the answers and more about being honest enough to say, I don’t understand this. I’m angry. I’m hurting. I don’t know what comes next.
And still praying.
Still questioning.
Still returning.
Still complaining.
Perhaps that is what faith means to me now: not the absence of doubt, but the decision to keep a conversation going even when you don’t have all the answers.
I don’t think grief made me lose my faith.
It made my faith more honest.
How has learning to notice small experiences, such as rain, birds, tea, or a sunset, changed the way you move through the world?
I think I have become much better at being where I actually am.
For a long time, I thought the important moments in life were the big ones. The achievements. The milestones. The things worth announcing. #tags worthy 😊. Meeting the checklist with flying colors. The things that could be photographed, posted, celebrated, or added to the imaginary spreadsheet of a successful life.
Then I started noticing the smaller things.
The smell of rain. Birds making an unreasonable amount of noise in the morning. A warm cup of tea in my hands. The first cool breeze after a brutally hot day. A sunset that seems almost personally offended that you didn’t stop to look at it. The canvas of the sky painted with tea-pink light and bird silhouettes.
There is something wonderfully humbling about realizing that life keeps offering you these tiny gifts while you are busy worrying about your five-year plan. I remember watching a sunset, and someone asked if I had taken a picture.
No.
I was there.
That moment stayed with me.
I think noticing small things has made me less interested in rushing through my own life. I pay attention now. I notice the smell of petrichor. I watch birds. I garden. I get dirt under my nails. I stop for sunsets. Sometimes I will sit with a cup of tea and do absolutely nothing — which, in a world obsessed with productivity, can feel almost rebellious.
And I absolutely can’t resist sitting on a swing if I pass by one. There is something about a swing that makes me feel like I have temporarily been released from being a responsible adult.
These things don’t erase grief or uncertainty. They don’t magically fix a difficult day.
But they remind me that a life is not made only of the things that hurt us or the things we are trying to achieve.
Sometimes it is a cup of tea.
A bird.
A ridiculous sunset.
A patch of sky.
Shapes in clouds. Oh look, a horse and an elephant
A swing you absolutely had no intention of sitting on.
And for a few minutes, you are not trying to become anything.
You are simply there.
You are donating a portion of the book’s profits to education and skill development in underserved communities in Pakistan. Why was connecting the book to that work important to you?
Because this work started long before the book.
Since 2023, I have been part of a small diaspora WhatsApp donor circle that I run with two friends, Beena and Dr. Kokub. We started with a very simple idea: if we can help someone stand on their own feet, that is more meaningful than simply helping them survive one difficult month.
Our focus has been on education, skill development, and helping people create small home-based businesses — stitching, cooking, salon work, nursing, delivery work, things that can give someone an income, a skill, and eventually a little more independence.
There is something very powerful about that word: independence.
Not because everyone has to become wildly successful. But because having the ability to earn, learn, contribute, and make choices for yourself can change the entire trajectory of a life.
So, I wanted the book to do something outside itself.
That is why ten percent of my author profits go towards the same cause.
And this answer is difficult for me to write because, as I write it, I am also grieving one of the people who was part of that work with me.
My dear friend and fellow donor-circle member, Beena Amin, passed away recently.
She was one of the two friends with whom I have shared this little WhatsApp effort since 2023.
I don’t have a polished lesson for this.
I am human.
And yes, it has deeply affected me.
So I want to dedicate this part — and this commitment to giving back — to Beena.
We started something small together.
I hope I can keep carrying it forward.
For her, and for the people we were always trying to help stand a little more firmly on their own feet.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Website | Linktree | Amazon
I Did Not Survive. I Just Refused To Stop. is the extraordinarily abnormal account of an average Desi Muslim girl who watched, questioned, and refused to look away — for twenty years.
Part memoir. Part essay. Part poetry. Part something that has no name yet.
Raw. Honest. Sometimes funny. Often uncomfortable. Always real.
Exploring identity, faith, grief, beauty standards, marriage pressure, belonging, and the courage to remain yourself in a world determined to make you fit.
For everyone who ever felt invisible, too much, not enough, or simply — wrong.
You were never wrong. You were just in the wrong room.
10% of all profits go to education and skill development for underserved communities in Pakistan.
I Did Not Survive. I Just Refused To Stop.
I Did Not Survive. I Just Refused To Stop. is a collection of essays, poems, brief scenes, and observations about the demands placed on women, especially within the Desi Muslim communities the author knows. Writing as MissFit, the author draws on her own experiences and stories entrusted to her by other women. The book moves through five parts, from “The Cage” to “The Flight,” tracing a shift from social scrutiny and private distress toward a life shaped by personal choice. Its subjects range from marriage proposals and career expectations to religious practice, consumer habits, desire, and the freedom to take pleasure in ordinary things.
MissFit’s humor is sharpest when she lets a scene carry the argument. In one memorable account, strangers help a cyclist gather vegetables spilled across a Dubai street, only to hear him complain, “Please keep tomatoes separate.” The encounter becomes a compact portrait of how readily generosity can be met with another demand. Elsewhere, the author questions why a woman’s title changes with marriage, why a family’s preferred profession can outweigh a child’s interests, and how luxury goods acquire authority over individual taste. Her jokes and lists give these familiar pressures a recognizable voice. They also establish the social world from which the book’s more painful accounts emerge.
As the collection progresses, its wit gives way to writing about abuse, isolation, panic, and a moment of suicidal crisis. These passages ask the reader to sit with the consequences of silence enforced in the name of family reputation. The later sections examine faith with the same questioning attention MissFit brings to social custom. She recalls seeking an answer during a visit to Mecca and finding space for grief and argument in a quiet street. The book’s range is ambitious, and some short pieces make their point so quickly that a reader may wish for more of the detail found in its longer scenes. At its best, the movement between anecdote and verse gives the collection a rhythm that feels close to thought itself: a joke, a memory, a question that won’t go away.
The final part turns toward nature, play, kindness, and the act of writing. MissFit notices birds, rain, shells, tea, and the pleasure of being present; when someone asks whether she photographed a sunset, she answers, “I was there.” That small exchange captures the attention she wants to reclaim for herself. The closing pages don’t erase the injuries described earlier. They show a person choosing how to spend a day, what to value, and how to speak in her own voice. I Did Not Survive. I Just Refused To Stop. is most affecting when its defiance stays grounded in such particulars. Its lasting image is of a writer who has kept her capacity for wonder alongside her anger.
Pages: 245 | ASIN : B0H5CVNDNF
Water Your Flowers With Love: A Collection of Poems
Water Your Flowers With Love is a poetry collection that moves through grief, memory, exile, tenderness, and moral urgency without ever letting go of its faith in love as a sustaining force. Across poems about childhood, a lost father, immigration, war, kindness, and the consolations of the natural world, Author Koula Hadjitooulou keeps returning to one central conviction: the human spirit is fragile, but it isn’t finished. The book’s title poem crystallizes that vision by turning childhood harm into an aching plea for gentleness, while poems like “Cyprus and the Girl with the Water Jug,” “Warrior of Life,” and “Three Little Birds” widen the emotional field into displacement, survival, and the cost of violence borne by children.
What stayed with me most was the book’s emotional sincerity. This is not guarded poetry. Hadjitooulou writes as someone who means every line, and that directness gives the collection its pulse. The poems about her father especially landed hard for me. In “I Can Still Feel His Warmth” and “Letter to My Dad,” the grief isn’t abstract or ornamental. It feels authentic, almost tactile, as though memory itself were giving off heat. I also found myself moved by the recurring image-world of flowers, stars, hills, wind, and birds. In another writer’s hands, that language might feel overly sweet, but here it often works because it comes from a genuine instinct toward repair. Even when the book turns toward atrocity and abandonment, it keeps searching for what she calls “pockets of light,” and I admired that refusal to surrender to bitterness.
What I appreciated about the collection is also where I felt its limits. The writing is strongest when Hadjitooulou anchors her hopeful, exhortatory style in a specific story or image, as she does with the child carrying a water jug in a refugee camp, the young girl forced into marriage in “She Was Only Fifteen,” or the immigrant soul suspended between two worlds. In those pieces, the poems gather weight and texture. Elsewhere, the book leans on affirmation, repetition, and uplift. The ideas are earnest and relatable, sometimes beautifully so. What I felt was a writer trying, again and again, to make compassion usable. And in a collection so preoccupied with survival, resilience, and the moral necessity of tenderness, the insistence itself becomes part of the art.
Water Your Flowers With Love gave me the feeling that I had spent time with a voice shaped by hurt, gratitude, and an almost stubborn belief in mercy. I’d recommend it to readers who like accessible, heartfelt poetry, especially those drawn to poems about healing, family, displacement, inner strength, and the attempt to keep faith even when the world makes that difficult.
Pages: 160 | ASIN : B0G4F2K2TC
Strength and Vulnerability
Watery Eyes is a collection of poems centered around womanhood, love, loss, and devotion. What inspired you to write this particular collection of poems?
I’ve enjoyed writing poetry for decades. It is how I best express myself. I believe what comes from the heart reaches the heart. I hope my writing resonates with people. I want to connect with my readers to spread faith, hope, and love.
Do you have a favorite poem in the book, and if so, why does it hold special meaning for you?
My favorite poem is “Teach me to love,” because it describes my belonging to Ethiopia, as a woman in the diaspora. I sprinkle Amharic words throughout the poem to give it a little flavor. It speaks to my soul! I carry my identity with me, as an Ethiopian-American, wherever I go. I sincerely convey the admiration I feel for being part of the Ethiopian community within an American context. I write from a youthful perspective, never losing touch with genuine idealism.
Are there any recurring symbols or images in your poems that hold special significance?
I talk a lot about themes being unique and universal. Through the specific, we access the spiritual. Often, what I experience is common to all. Love and loss are situations most everyone has found themselves in. I write to embrace subtle ways of feeling more human and more alive. I share my strength and vulnerability with diverse audiences in an effort to connect with my readers.
How has this poetry book changed you as a writer, or what did you learn about yourself through writing it?
I learned that it’s important to tackle big ideas. I did my best to portray life in a way that was romantic and realistic. I am grateful when people engage with my writing. It’s an honor and a privilege for my work to be welcomed in different homes. Through writing, all things are possible. Unity. Beauty. Purpose. Significance.
I learned to trust myself and stretch my capacity. Writing this book increased my confidence in sharing my truth. It gave me the grace to demonstrate true courage. I am grateful for the opportunity to explore the depths and heights of human emotion with like-minded individuals. It taught me to dig a little deeper and bare my soul.
Author Links: GoodReads | Website | Amazon
AmerAsian: My Journey to Becoming Whole as a Mixed Korean-American
Kimberly McAfee’s AmerAsian is a heartfelt collection of poems that moves through childhood pain, cultural confusion, and the long climb toward self-acceptance. The book unfolds in three sections: The Beginning, An Emotional Journey, and Sweet Self-Acceptance. Each poem reads like a small window into McAfee’s soul. Through vivid imagery and references to Korean folklore, mythology, and family memories, she traces her path as a biracial woman learning to embrace both halves of herself. The voice is deeply personal, sometimes tender, sometimes raw, always honest. By the end, what began as a record of struggle becomes a love letter to identity, belonging, and transformation.
Some poems stung with their simplicity, like Monsters Within and My Collection, which capture the ache of growing up different in a world that craves sameness. Others, like A Bittersweet Return and Dokdo, filled me with quiet awe, showing how home can be both a place and a feeling. McAfee’s words don’t hide behind complexity. They’re plain, heartfelt, and striking because of that. The mix of personal reflection and mythological imagery made me pause more than once.
What stayed with me most was her voice. It’s gentle yet unflinching. She doesn’t pretend the road to self-love is easy. She admits to doubts, to shame, to hoping that a plane ride to Seoul might fix what was broken. It didn’t, and that honesty hit hard. When she finally finds peace in her own identity, the relief is contagious. I loved that she never forces resolution. Instead, she lets acceptance come quietly, like a sunrise after a long night. The rhythm of her poems felt natural, unpolished in the best way. There’s a vulnerability in that, a truth that can’t be faked.
I’d recommend AmerAsian to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t fit anywhere. Mixed-race readers, immigrants, or anyone searching for self-understanding. It’s a mirror for people who’ve lived between cultures, between expectations, between who they were and who they’re becoming. McAfee’s writing may be simple, but her emotions run deep.
Pages: 60 | ASIN : B0BZSK5W6F
Unheard
From an early age, Bhavini Bhargava had a love for badminton, and her family nurtured this passion. By age 8, she was playing with her dad, and by 10, she had already competed in her first open nationals. However, after sustaining injuries from the sport, she had to seek an alternative that put less strain on her injured foot. At 16, she turned to cricket, pursuing it with determination while continuing her education and exploring writing. Eventually, she found herself playing for the Australian cricket team. This book, a collection of poems, reflects the rich tapestry of experiences she has gathered along the way.
In the poem Sunflower, she offers a compelling message of resilience, urging us to flourish like sunflowers, no matter the setbacks we face. Throughout her poems, she shares the wisdom that comes with age, illustrating how life’s lessons have shaped her path. Even when we encounter dead ends, she reminds readers that there’s always another way forward. One theme that resonates deeply is the fear of stopping or walking away from something we’ve invested in, even when it no longer serves us. The author calls on us to recapture the curiosity and courage of childhood—the ability to rise again without fear of mistakes. Through this lens, she paints a picture of how adulthood often robs us of the carefree spirit and curiosity that once defined us. The collection also delves into personal reflections, including glimpses of a past relationship. The author reflects on love, disappointment, healing, and the road that lies ahead, offering poignant insights into the emotional landscape of her journey. Her use of storytelling, coupled with a natural rhythm, keeps readers engaged throughout. The poems flow effortlessly, creating vivid imagery that draws the reader in. The addition of sketches enriches the reading experience, breathing life into the words and making the collection even more captivating.
Unheard is a collection of modern poetry that explores themes of love, life, nature, and personal growth. It provides readers with a book that will speak to their hearts. It speaks to anyone who has faced setbacks, found new paths, or simply wishes to rediscover the adventurous spirit of youth.
Pages: 111 | ASIN : B0BY2X7397
Unheard
Unheard is a heartfelt exploration of the emotions and thoughts that often go unspoken, yet profoundly shape our lives. Through this compilation, Bhavini Bhargava offers an intimate look into her soul, capturing the raw and unfiltered feelings that arise as she navigates various seasons of life. Each poem serves as a window into moments of passion, determination, love, hate, belief, and faith, inviting readers to reflect on their own unvoiced emotions. The author’s words resonate with a universal truth, taking readers on a poetic journey where the unsaid is finally given a voice.
Bhargava’s writing is undeniably powerful and deeply evocative. With remarkable brevity, she manages to encapsulate a vast range of emotions—whether it’s the sting of disappointment, the quiet resolve of self-belief, the enduring strength in the face of adversity, or the raw ache of heartbreak. Each piece is a testament to her ability to connect with the reader on a profoundly human level. Her clear and concise style doesn’t just communicate feelings; it resonates deeply, echoing the shared experiences that bind us all.
The visual elements interspersed throughout the book add another layer of meaning. Though simple, these images are carefully chosen and perfectly complement the themes explored in the poems. They serve as a quiet, yet powerful, backdrop that enhances the reader’s immersion into the world Bhargava has crafted. The synergy between the visual and the verbal creates a holistic experience that is as aesthetically pleasing as it is emotionally stirring.
As I read through the collection, I was struck by how immersive the experience was—it felt akin to sitting in a cozy café, enveloped in the warmth of intimate surroundings, listening to an artist passionately share her innermost thoughts and feelings. The conversational tone and genuine emotion in Bhargava’s writing make the collection both entertaining and deeply thought-provoking. One poem that particularly stood out to me was Stigma. In this piece, Bhargava addresses the complex and often challenging issues surrounding gender roles and societal expectations. She deftly explores the pressures and limitations imposed on individuals based on their gender, offering a poignant reflection on what it means to navigate these roles in today’s world.
Bhargava’s Unheard is a compelling collection that speaks to the emotions and experiences we all carry within us. Through her eloquent and insightful writing, she invites readers to confront these feelings, offering a sense of solidarity and understanding. This book is not just a read; it’s an experience—one that is sure to linger in the minds and hearts of those who delve into its pages.
Pages: 111 | ASIN : B0BY2X7397
Mosaics of Shadow and Light
Mosaics of Shadow and Light by A.W. Jones is a poignant collection of poetry that offers an intimate glimpse into the author’s journey through life’s adversities. As a reader who appreciates the strength derived from hardship, I found a profound connection with Jones’s narrative. The anthology, which draws from her experiences of childhood trauma, the grief of losing a loved one, and the challenges of mental health, resonates deeply with those who have encountered similar trials.
Jones’s upbringing, marked by an alcoholic father and a tumultuous parental marriage, sets the stage for her emotionally charged verses. The book courageously addresses the impacts of verbal abuse, a subject I personally understand, and its significant implications on one’s mental well-being. Jones artfully uses her poetry as a vessel to convey the transformative power of these experiences. The structure of the book is thoughtfully organized into four distinct sections, each representing a significant phase in her life. Her love poems, characterized by their raw vulnerability and intense longing, were particularly moving. Jones does not shy away from difficult topics such as physical and sexual abuse, skillfully using her voice to illuminate the often-silent suffering of many women. “The Crossroads of Holding On and Letting Go” is a standout piece that beautifully articulates the agony of loss. It’s a universal theme that evokes a deep emotional response reminiscent of personal losses and the haunting absence of once-familiar presences. Another notable piece, “As Time Turns the Pages,” showcases Jones’s creative prowess with thought-provoking lines for each letter of the alphabet. The inclusion of artistic photographs enhances the reading experience, adding another layer to the author’s expressive storytelling. These poems are an invitation to journey through the intricate landscape of human emotion. Jones’s willingness to share her deepest feelings sets an admirable precedent for emotional honesty in literature.
For those seeking a profound connection with a poetic soul, Mosaics of Shadow and Light is a compelling choice. A.W. Jones’s work is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of sharing one’s story.
Pages: 153 | ASIN : B0C9SM4GKH
