Woven through womanhood

A letter to the women who shaped us

By: Aisha Duldul, Amna Saeed, Klea Pinari, Liana Yadav, Liesl Korompis

As we step out of Women’s History Month, we believe reflecting on the women who have and continue to shape us is crucial. From authors to mothers, each lesson we have been taught is one we hold close to and cherish. These moments of wisdom continue to shape us and how we view the world. 

Here are some inspiring women and how they have influenced our contributors. 

Aisha Duldul

"This concept of a mother’s irreplaceable role has only deepened my bond with my mother, Ramsia Abdirahman." (Aisha Duldul/New Wave Zine)

In Islam, there is a teaching that says our mothers deserve the most kindness—not once, but three times: “Your mother, your mother, your mother.” This concept of a mother’s irreplaceable role has only deepened my bond with my mother, Ramsia Abdirahman. She is the most selfless, kind and beautiful woman I know. 

She’s the type of person who wakes up at dawn just to say goodbye to me at the door before school. The type to whisper prayers for my success just before the morning prayer. The type to spoon-feed me Froot Loops in bed during Ramadan so I wouldn’t go hungry during the day. 

My mother is the strongest woman I know. She doesn’t drive, so she took me everywhere by bus. She cradled me as a baby while running her small frame shop and greeted customers with warmth, all while working tirelessly. Strength is woven into everything she does. 

She is selfless in ways big and small. Ramsia is the kind of person who, even in the middle of an argument she didn’t start, would apologize first because it would eat her up inside. The kind of mother who always ensured my siblings and I felt loved. I will never forget my 18th birthday—how she stayed up until midnight just to wish me a happy birthday with a handwritten card and some money to buy my favourite food. The next morning, she prepared my favourite breakfast: chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries and syrup, all before heading to work. She even tried buying me boba (bubble tea) despite not knowing where to go or what to order. “I was going to get your favourite, but I realized I don’t know the place or what to ask for.” 

So, whenever I hear the teaching about showing the most kindness to our mothers, I know exactly who it is meant for—my dear mom, Ramsia Abdirahman. I can only hope to embody the same selflessness, kindness, genuineness and strength that she does.

Amna Saeed

"She inspires me daily, and all I can hope for is that one day, I can repay her." (Amna Saeed/New Wave Zine)

My mother took her final university exams while pregnant with my older sister. When I learned this, I immediately said, “Wow, that’s so metal!” And it really was. Struggling with the typical challenges women face during pregnancy, such as nausea and mood swings, and still managing to ace her exams is one of my mother’s greatest achievements.

For the record, I’m not sharing this story to glorify any pain she might have experienced. I simply want to acknowledge her hard work. She has accomplished so much, and she has encouraged me to pursue my own achievements — ones separate from marriage or traditional family roles, which are focused on myself instead. This is why I never list her achievements as simply raising my sisters and I. Although I will always believe she is the best mother I could have asked for, I don’t think she was born to be one. 

She calls my sisters and I her greatest achievements. Still, I will always name my mother’s greatest achievements as her work for the community around her, fulfilling her calling to be a doctor despite the stacked deck against her. She constantly creates kindness in a world where humanity continuously finds itself growing scarce. Despite growing up in a community where certain topics though not reviled—were rarely spoken about, her compassion has led her to become a strong advocate for the same causes today. Never stubborn unless necessary, her pursuit of knowledge and willingness to understand other communities have turned her into a staunch supporter of those who cannot always stand for themselves.

Through each kind word spoken, without requiring reciprocation, every unpaid checkup on people to whom healthcare was a treat, not a guarantee, my mother created the standard that she believed I could one day exceed. Her inherent gentleness and wholly caring heart would be fairly tough to surpass, but I would count myself lucky if I were even a quarter as good as her. It is because of my mother that I can reconcile my strength and kindness, so I have never let anything take those parts of me away. She inspires me daily, and all I can hope for is that one day, I can repay her. She never asks me for anything, but my good health, and she’s raised me to be generous. I will ensure my Amma never has to struggle again.

Klea Pinari

"And once, when I was wide-eyed with two missing front teeth, my other sister dressed me up and turned me into a story." (Klea Pinari/New Wave Zine)

There is no one woman I think of when I hear the words love, hope or magic; they always come in twos. Like a pair of slippers, a pair of eyes or even two lungs, my sisters have always been an intrinsic part of who I am, supplying me with air and beauty. 

Once, when I was just a girl, my sister took me by the hand as we strolled through the park by our home, and she pointed at the passing river as it flowed. “The river fairies live down there,” she told me. “And they come every spring to keep the river moving.” Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be magic: in the babbling brook, under the root of a willow tree. I still believe in fairies. 

And once, when I was wide-eyed with two missing front teeth, my other sister dressed me up and turned me into a story. Our backyard was an entire universe, and I was anyone I wanted to be. She took photos of me as I cradled my stuffed dog, pasted them onto multicoloured reams of paper and created life with her words. Now, I am the writer; she is a character in my story. 

Without my sisters, I would not believe in magic, nor would I write with all my heart.

Liana Yadav

"My female friends are often the voices of comfort I seek when I feel unsure of myself." (Liana Yadav/New Wave Zine)

I have always found the strongest people around me to be women; they have been inspiring me for as long as I can remember. 

My mom and sister are experts at finding solutions. They’re both immensely intelligent and acutely aware of how to best take care of the people they love, two skills that rarely go hand-in-hand. They always show up in the way you’d want them to—their passion for what they believe in is so infectious that I hope to be like them every day.

My female friends are often the voices of comfort I seek when I feel unsure of myself. Nothing feels impossible when I am around them because I see myself through their eyes. They make me feel bigger while the world becomes smaller. 

As I have grown older, my voice has become incredibly important. As both a reader and a writer, words are the way I make sense of and contribute to this world. The authors who inspire me the most are the same women who have lent my voice its confidence and power. 

1. Ashley Judd: I heard her famous “I am a nasty woman” speech when I was 14 years old. She made it okay for me to call myself a feminist, a term I have never been scared to claim since. 

2. Scaachi Koul: When I read Scaachi Koul’s memoir, I drew strength from her authentic ownership of her South Asian identity. She reminds me that it’s okay to create the space I want for myself. 

3. Simone de Beauvoir: I didn’t expect a French feminist philosopher to have a worldview that resonated so much with mine, considering our very different realities. Her stories and essays have taught me to question what it means to be a woman and create my own definition.

Liesl Korompis

"My mom, who wore pink suits to business meetings and had a collection of designer perfumes." (Liesl Korompis/New Wave Zine)

When you picture strength, the first thing that comes to mind might be a bodybuilder or a firefighter. For the longest time, that’s what I imagined. But as I grew to learn more definitions of strength that extend beyond a physical level, my vision began to shift toward four women in my life. Specifically, my mom’s sisters, also known as the Toh family sisters. First, there was my mom. My mom, who wore pink suits to business meetings and had a collection of designer perfumes. My mom, who liked makeup and spoke with an accent that didn’t belong in the country she lived in. My mom, who expressed herself fiercely and protected her identity with even greater ferocity. 

Then there was my youngest aunt, who was both so similar and yet so different from her. While my mom was sometimes blunt, my aunt always approached all of her nieces with the kind of ingenuity that could get even the most cynical people to open up. She made me feel seen in ways a lot of other people never could. She was especially similar to my second oldest aunt, who chose to stay kind despite all the trials and tribulations she’s been through. I’ve never seen her without a smile during family reunions, and her caring nature brings out the best in all of us. Finally, there’s my oldest aunt, who carries herself with an elegance and confidence that’s hard to replicate. 

When I think of my aunts, it reminds me that strength comes in a multitude of shapes and sizes. It’s about choosing to love as much as it is about holding your head up high. So now, when I run into a problem, I just think: what would the Toh family sisters do?