Before today, I was considering writing an article about the controversy of the hijab. I was considering writing about how so many people choose to wear the hijab despite the perturbing fear of being judged by different communities and for a multitude of reasons. But I was going to do that without admitting one thing which has been central to me writing it; I don't know if I want to continue wearing the hijab.
Being a Muslim woman, society has defined my life in many different ways, but one thing I can tell you, is that out of all of those adjectives, dull certainly won't appear on that list. We are always a focal point of discussion and let's face it my presence could liven up any dismal gathering. My very being is always brought to question, as many struggle to decide whether my hijab is a symbol of empowerment or mark of oppression.
After months of the constant cry for Theresa May to lay out her Brexit strategy, in the past two weeks we have heard more. Unsurprisingly I don't feel any more in the know! I didn't expect to be - revealing your negotiating position is a bit like playing poker with your cards laid out in front of you.
On the annual World Day of Migrants and Refugees, I feel compelled to draw attention to the reality of child migrants, especially the ones who are alone. In doing so I ask everyone to take care of the young, who in a threefold way are defenceless: they are children, they are foreigners, and they have no means to protect themselves. I ask everyone to help those who, for various reasons, are forced to live far from their homeland and are separated from their families.
Kati is my wife. Kati is the young woman who suffered a stroke in 1995 and since that has been almost entirely paralyzed. Kati is a woman that has spent almost her entire adult life trapped inside her body. Kati is also the person that knows how to enjoy life at the moment to the fullest making the most of each and every day.
There is a contradiction at the heart of the role that religion plays today in our national life. On the one hand, the number of people describing themselves as non-religious has increased dramatically - from one in eight in England and one in three in Scotland in 2001 to almost half the UK population today.
The legacy of Mother Teresa, born Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu in 1910 in present-day Macedonia, still lives throughout the world and her image is a source of encouragement and inspiration for many, but also of skepticism and criticism for some. There is a simplicity of service towards the poor that can be learned from her example, without having to idolize her.
There was a sober tone to Boris Johnson's and Michael Gove's response to David Cameron's announcement that he would step down after the EU Referendum, as well there should be, after the painful campaign we have had. What became apparent over the past few months, was that this referendum was a proxy, not for or against austerity or Cameron's government, but instead it was about what sort of country we wanted to be.
What is clear is that the referendum debate is not a narrow discussion of whether we want to remain in the EU or not. Underneath the presented issues of In and Out, the civil war in the Conservative party, the loss of the working class by the Labour party and the near silence of the Lib Dems, is a more fundamental question - what sort of country do we want to be? Neither Remain nor Leave has won the moral high ground, as neither of them has tried to take it.