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This April, we're delighted to share our first audio interview of the year, with author Hajera Khaja! Hajera has been writing in one way or another for more than two decades now. She's currently a published writer of short stories and essays, an editor at Ruqaya's Bookshelf, and has been teaching creative writing and working as a writing coach since 2020. You can learn more about her and what she offers,  as well as her publications, on her site.
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Sakina Literary Society of the Arts - Interview with An Author: Hajera Khaja

Interested in being interviewed? Want to promote a writer friend? Reach out to us! The only requirements are: 
  1. that the participant is an author, whether published traditionally, through self-publishing, on a blog, site, fanfiction archive, Instagram, Wattpad, etc. We are not picky! We want authors to own that they're authors!
  2. the participant's work is fiction, non-fiction, fanfiction, poetry, songs, or anything else that is written (we are not interviewing artists of other media at this time, but stay tuned for changes!)
  3. the participant's work belongs to themselves (in the case of fanfiction, transformative works are allowed) and has not been "written" by generative AI
Send us a message through our contact page and someone from our team will get in touch with you!
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Happy March and Ramadan Mubarak to those who celebrate! This month, we're honoured to interview Charlene Smith, author of Game Changers: Stories of Hijabi Athletes from around the World. Charlene converted to Islam in 1999 when she was 19 years old. She has an identical twin sister, is married with six children (five boys and a girl), and has a 2 year old granddaughter. She loves reading, playing the daff, mountain biking, and downhill skiing. ​
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Jessica Rodriguez Photography (IG: @jessicarodriguez.photos)

Here's a little more about her in her own words. 

"I loved writing when I was a child. I have vivid memories of going to the creative writing table in my first grade classroom to write stories when I finished my schoolwork early. I wrote just for fun in those days. As a teenager, I still wrote a lot, but it was mostly for school projects. ​
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This month, we were delighted to interview Sana Samad, a 39 year old Canadian Pakistani mother to two young boys, who are 8 and 6 years old respectively, and whom she currently homeschools. When not being a mom, playing sports, reading, or writing, she also runs a small business called Sweet Seconds Cookies, which serves the Oshawa/Durham region in Ontario. 

​You can find her writing on Instagram as @sana.ess and support her business at @sweet.seconds.cookies.
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Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash

What was your first creative writing piece, as far as you can remember?
As far as I can recall, I believe it was when I was in grade 7...probably around the time I was about to leave Abu Dhabi to move to Canada. I think it was a poem to one of my friends in school.
Did you always feel drawn to creative writing? What got you into creative writing?
When I was younger, I liked writing rhyming poetry. I wasn’t good at it, but I enjoyed doing it. As an adult, I love reading a good rhyming book or poem, but I find it harder to rhyme now because I don’t want it to feel forced. Creative writing was my way to express my feelings for others and sort my own feelings as well. Writing in journals/diaries, and letters that I never posted, is what got me through the first few years of being in Canada. ​
Who were some of the major influences/supports, real or fictional, in your creative writing journey?
Honestly, I don’t know. I loved reading books and stories by Enid Blyton as a kid. My parents always encouraged us to read. I think I got my love of writing from my mother, though. Even though I don’t remember her writing creatively, I do recall her writing in her journal every day for years. Apart from my parents, one of my maternal aunts and a few friends have also been extremely supportive of my writing. ​
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This year, we wanted to showcase authors of all sorts here at Sakina Literary Society of the Arts, and give readers and writers a look behind the scenes at different Muslim authors' writing journeys. With this, we hoped to demystify the act (and art) of writing, to showcase the vast variety of Muslim authors and their works, and to encourage you to join them in their literary endeavours without fear. We start off our 2026 interviews with Nida Rashid, author of From You...to You, Post Parting, and HumDrums. You can find her on Instagram as @ennarre.
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​How long have you been writing? 
​
I started writing for myself when I was around 11 years old. It was always poetry to start--I loved to rhyme. 

What was your first creative writing piece, as far as you can remember?

I wrote a song called "Puppy Dog Face" about people who use their innocent charm to get away with mischief. The song had a great hook, "don't give me that puppy dog face, that puppy dog face". My sister and her friend found it and made so much fun of me  that I deleted it from the computer. 
Did you always feel drawn to poetry? What got you into writing poetry?

Yes. I always felt drawn to tones and rhythm. Poetry appealed to me, ironically because of Quran recitation (in the Quran itself, it is repeated that the Quran is not mere poetry for entertainment). The calming tones, and various recitations led me to recognize how words can carry powerful meaning in their rhythm. When I discovered spoken word poetry on Youtube, I was completely mesmerized. 

Once, in high school, I had to present a biology project but had only 24 hours to come up with a presentation. I realized poems are easy to memorize, so I made a 3 minute spoken word poem about the topic.  My science teacher was so impressed that science could be presented in an artistic form--I got an A. From then on, whenever I needed to remember a difficult topic--I wrote a poem. 

Who were some of the major influences/supports, real or fictional, in your creative writing journey?

Sarah Kay - her spoken word on Youtube is what helped me gain confidence to speak my poems aloud.  My friends - who would read my poems and tell me they felt something in reading it. 
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Photo by Jacob Buchhave on Unsplash

❝ I want to be that tree growing through stone
Ebb the ways of brain patterns that leave me feeling alone
I want to be the sea turtle that made it off shore
I need to make those wizard changes to make the me more
I want to start on that path where I have not been
To consider new ways opportunities to help left unseen
I want to feel strong hopeful worthy and clear
So I can be more than just a person who was here ​❞
*
— written & submitted by Noorjahan Shaikh, member of Ink Well Collective
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Photo by Le Mucky on Unsplash

❝ I grew up going to Sunday school
Little girl with big eyes and a bigger hunger for God
Mouth so full of Arabic before I even knew what my tongue was capable of
Allāhumma ṣalli ’ala sayyidinā Muhammad
And that word — sayyidinā --
That master
Sat in my chest like a stone I was too scared to name

Because where I’m from,
Master was not a title of love
Master was not a title we gave willingly
Master was the whip that bent backs
Master was the auction block, the blood on the bark of southern trees
Master was the reason my last name ain’t the one God wrote for me

So how do I, a Black woman,
Descendant of the stolen and the unspoken,
Pray with the word master on my tongue and mean it with love?
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"The Storyteller" - Thierry Lamare

❝ ​I am the Black girl that crossed the dark sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the Free
Now home on Native land
I am the woman who worked on the field
Bringing the cotton and the cane to yield 
I am the one who laboured as a slave
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave
Children sold away from me, husband auctioned off, mamas voided too
No safety, no love, no respect was I due
A prey to white violence, a slave to white lust
No value, low-priced
Back then I sucked salt and bit the dust
Four hundred years deep in the South
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth 
God put a dream like a steel drum in my soul
Freedom gave fire to this body turned cold
Now, through my children, I'm watching the seed grow,
Post up like the Fruit,
Now, through my children, I'm hitting the goal.
Realize child the blessings denied to me
I couldn't read then, I couldn't write 
I had nothing back then, not even the night
Some days the road was hot with sun
But I had to keep on till my work was done
I had to keep on! No stopping for me--
I was the seed of the coming Free
I nourished and nursed the dream, the struggle 
That nothing can smother 
Deep in my breast-- 
The Black mother 
I had only one hope then, but now through you,
Black children of today, my wildest dreams must come true
All you dark children in the world today out there,
Remember my blood, my sweat, my tears 
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow-
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my past a road to the light,
A revolutionary path
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night. ❞
*
Written by Zaakirah Rose
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Malcolm X has his head shaved as part of the Hajj

In April of 1964, Malcolm X left the United States on his first extended trip aboard.  He visited Egypt, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, Ghana,  Liberia, Senegal, Morocco and Algeria.

He made the pilgrimage or hajj to the Holy city of Makkah that every Muslim seeks to complete, which entitled him to the use of "El Hajj" in his name and he became known in the Muslim world as El Hajj Malik El Shabazz.
The Hajj solidified his journey towards traditional Islam and embracing a more inclusive and universal practice. It was a transformative experience that fundamentally shifted his worldview. The following excerpts are taken from letters written from abroad.
Jedda, Saudi Arabia 
April 20, 1964
    Never have I witnessed such sincere hospitality and the overwhelming spirit of true brotherhood as is practiced by the people of all colors and races here in this ancient holy land, the home of Abraham, Muhammad and all the other prophets of the Holy Scriptures. For the past week I have been utterly speechless and spellbound by the graciouness I see displayed all around me by people of all colors.

     Last night, April 19, I was blessed to visit the Holy City of Makkah, and complete the "Omra" part of my pilgrimage. Allah willing, I shall leave for Mina tomorrow, April 21, and be back in Mecca to say my prayers from Mt. Arafat on Tuesday, April 22. Mina is about twenty miles from Mecca.

     Last night I made my seven circuits around the Kaaba, led by a young Mutawif named Muhammad. I drank water from the well of Zam Zam, and then ran back and forth seven times between the hills of Mt. Al-Safa and Al-Marwah.

     There were tens of thousands of pilgrims from all over the world. They were of all colors, from blue-eyed blonds to black-skinned Africans, but were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood that my experiences in America had led me to believe could never exist between the white and non-white. 
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​Dreams are often indications from beyond this place
Where life plays out confined in time n space
Intersecting with the mind yet flourishing from beyond thought
A tale told without restraint meanings found yet at times lost
Ever consider the entirety of That where they're from
Just look at The Eternal Energy pouring forth from the sun
This Fountain never falters and will never dry
It's the What for all to notice - not the How or Why
Dreams. Peaceful realities amongst this here show and prop
Have you ever absorbed the Ultimate Reality of the thought
Absolute is only One Source - Grand above all you hold dear
Open yourself to This warmth and absorb truly without fear
*
From the Author
​Assalamu alaikum. I am 48 years old and I'm going through this life and its blessings with challenges looking to solidify and ground myself with good company insha Allah. I've sent this in because my Lord gifted me this blessing and I hope to give and receive through this connection with the Sakina Literary Society of the Arts.
- Noorjahan Shaikh
Would you like to publish your work with us? 
​Submit your work for consideration - we are accepting all forms of creative expression!
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​'Our story didn't begin in chains'
Brother Malcolm reminded.
Remember when we were free to just be?
Be comfortable in the skin we're in? 
Where our chests were just as expansive as baobab trees?
Where free traders and dusty foot philosophers
threaded red earth paths of knowledge 
Seeking the truths we hold?
Even held on to across the Seas?
Where village aunties kept up tradition
In colorful head scarves made educated guesses
That healing was never done in isolation
and understood that womanhood was the best hood to live in?
Where children's classrooms were filled with wooden writing boards 
Not only blackboards 
To illustrate the long history of Islam and literacy in Africa?
As lessons completed, boards were washed clean for reuse
And the ink of young scholars flowed through the Savannah?
Where the Sheikh and the mureed convened
under the shade of palms from the heated sun beams
sitting knees bent dripped in clothes without seams?

Knowledge is a garden, if it isn't cultivated, you can't harvest it, 
the proverb says.
Remember when they had us cultivating and harvesting everything else but
 in foreign, unwelcoming places and in cruel and unusual ways?
'But my hand was made strong by the hand of the Almighty'
Brother Bob put forward 
​And as we forward in this generation triumphantly 
'We are going to emancipate ourselves from mental slavery
because while others might free the body, none but ourselves can free the mind '
A lion name Marcus Mosiah authored
 So free your mind and be unconfined.

Go ahead and tell your story
Freely, in all your strength and glory
The mind is a terrible thing to waste they said
so don't waste time with those unworthy. 
Know your worth and charge taxes on every gem you drop
Pick up where the ancestors left off and don't you stop.
You are Black history and future in the making 
Through the joy and the pain 
Your spirit is steady manifesting 
The plant that God favours grows even without rain
​
Resilience is a blessing
Written by Zaakirah Rose