21st of November 2021

Our eighth issue was actualized during a series of moments defined by change. A year ago, our slightly larger team was rapid-fire brainstorming different theme ideas on Zoom. ‘In Flux’ changed to ‘Flux’ and ever since—almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy—our worlds began to change, fluctuate. 

The word flux is defined as “the action or process of flowing or flowing out”; when we had come up with the theme idea a year ago, we were all just contemplating whether the world would stop being a liminal space, oblivious that flux would begin to hold far more intense, literal meanings. In my own personal world, my changes were external, moving from extreme to exhaustingly temperate all the time. For a year or so, I was plagued by this binary shifting. I was never afforded the privilege of settling into any point in space and time. I could never feel at home. 

In Halima’s microcosm, change was somewhat complex—a spectrum of elements that exhort both uncertainty and self-satisfaction. Although stimulating, the various transitions experienced still feel foreign, almost abstract. Yet, forging one’s growth is supposed to feel displeasing; and moving from a passive actor in her life to a fully independent protagonist makes the journey worthwhile for her—despite the discomfort.

Meanwhile, for Shayma our Arabic Editor, the idea of flux started off as an exciting notion. A reasonable escape from the sense of immobility induced by the pandemic. However if anything, these past few months have taught her that there is pleasure in pause. Right now, she wishes more than ever to return to a time where things were more slow and kind. Or often, despite its difficulty, actively attempts to create that possibility for herself. 

Within our own team, shifts looked different inside and out. Where Unootha was once an idea on Google Doc, this year was defined by making steps towards building the foundations of Unootha as a regionally recognized platform. We won a grant from the US Embassy in Algeria to fund what is now our first Writers’ Program. We were selected as part of Art Dubai’s Gulf Now and invited to talks and panels by Jagged and Emirates Publishers’ Association. 

We started Kan Yama Kan with the incredible folks at Ward and hosted the brilliant Tara Al Dughaither, Dr. Afra Atiq, Al Reem Al Beshr, Munira Al Sayegh, and Daniel H. Rey. We collaborated with Darna Montreal to bring you the Writing Workshop series where we shared space to contemplate womanhood, home, and language before allowing those contemplations to flesh out poetry. We hosted zine workshops with student associations at Emory University and Pomona College. Next week, we’re joining Jameel Art Centre’s ‘Down to Earth’ and continue to forge our path forward as a collective, no matter how daunting it may be.

Internally though, things were a little different. In August, Nouf AlJahdami and Rawa Majdi, two members who had been with us from the start needed to step away from the team. The moments after their departure looked like a lot of scrambling in an attempt to make sense of Unootha being run by an executive team of only three. It looked like clashes between our personal schedules and feeling a little overworked at times, but it also meant a deep level of intimacy developed between us by virtue of attempting to understand what Unootha would look like without two individuals who have been so integral to its process. Dazzling in every way, we send a warm thank you to them with this issue and we congratulate them on the changes they’ve been making. Letting go of things is an incredible act—and we’re so glad we were able to be a part of your life, Nouf and Rawa.

The change within the issue looks different too, each piece a story of change that captures its endless shades, shapes, and forms. But in so many ways, this letter and issue we’re sharing with you today is nothing short of a celebration of change. Of liminal spaces. Of uncertainty. Of the queasy feeling at the bottom of your stomach. Of the feelings that Shayma, Halima, and I have been feeling for the past year, in parallel with perhaps some of the feelings you’ve been feeling too. All-inclusively, the careful process of curating our eighth issue and bringing it to life has been an exploration of the displacement and fluctuation that collectively consumes so many of our lives, in so many different ways. 

Gracing our life section this issue are two brilliant writers: Alia AlGhurair and Maitha AlSuwaidi, who offer reflections on grief, love, migration, and growth. Alia offers us two stunning pieces: an exploration of Returning to Haifa by Ghassan Kanafani in ‘What I Talk About When I Talk About Ghassan Kanafani’ and a reflection on the first few months of this past year in ‘Retrospection’. Meanwhile, Maitha writes and delivers a letter to her brother, a quiet and gorgeous confessional of heavy emotions and a deep, deep love in ‘Harvest Season’. Our fiction section stars Bhoomika Ghaghada and her heavy flash fiction ‘Advocating for men I cannot look at’ that explores, in her own words, the “discomfort, tension and evolving understanding of a South Asian woman's relationship to working men in the UAE”.

Our art section dazzles with the textiles and graphic design work of Samah Al Ansari in ‘Had It All Figured Out’. Reflect on illustrations depicting change and balance through Dana Al Rashid’s ‘2 of Pentacles’, Amna AlBaker’s ‘On the surface’, and Deema’s ‘Our Kitchen’s Daftar series, Part 1: Love, Caution, Pain’. Jana Malaikah illustrates linguistic change and transformations through time in her tantalizing visual installation ‘Evolution’. Meanwhile, Mariam AlMuheiri’s ‘VANITY’ photography series investigates the social expectations and beauty standards surrounding Emirati women.

And our poetry section reins with the works of Rasha AlKhateeb and Iman Alzaghari, which both provide lens and love letters to mothers and motherhood, respectively in ‘International Market’ and ‘Mama’. Iman Alzaghari also offers a second poem in the issue; ‘Happy Birthday - Sana Helwa’ delves into the passage of time and loss through the image of birthdays. Basant Said’s ‘Away From Here’ and Farida Rady’s ‘things i know to be true’ offer you whispers of hope, an unabashed certainty that things will be okay, that all will be well. Lara AlThukair writes ‘Letters to the Moon’ and contemplates why they go unanswered, why her world continues to be shaped by uncertainty. Dana Al Rashid’s ‘Uncertain Seas’ explore these same ideas, her poem’s premodern tone illustrating how the question of uncertainty is age-old.

The whirlpool of the linguistic struggle and mother tongues is experimentally and evocatively dissected in Yasmine Rukia’s ‘Teta Still mad im not fluent, stay mad teta, im mad too’. Join Aya Nimer in her reflection of a loving friendship long lost in ‘Constellations’ and Shadya Abu-Naim’s ‘Good Soil’ on what it means to be a woman, on what it means to be alive. The overwhelming guilt of migration and survival of conflict is heartbreakingly elucidated in Maya Alinaizi’s ‘Survivor’s Guilt’. ‘Marital Rape’ by Fatema A. Jalil displays a storyline weaved into our societies but hardly ever explicitly addressed. Finally, read and immerse yourself in the oceanic, magical conversation between Zein Sa’dedin and Shayma Jamal on the game-changing BAHR Magazine and the creation of spaces for yourself in literature.

Flux has been a year in the making, blossoming from a seed planted in a conversation with a friend in Abu Dhabi. Flux comes to you through the world wide web in a location and time that is likely very different from my own. My personal issue-planning process spanned Abu Dhabi, Ajman, and now, New York City. For Halima, our Life Editor, it was Algiers and now Paris. For Shayma, our Arabic Editor, it’s been Sharjah and Abu Dhabi. There’s no guessing where you may be reading my letter from, but I’m so so so glad you’re here. 

As the world continues to twist and turn, as the tides continue to flow in erratic and heavy manners, our eighth issue works to offer you company. The world is big, at times solitary. The work in this issue reminds you that despite it all, you are never alone. We stand here together with you. Don’t be afraid. Dive in.

Offering you my love and company,

Fatima AlJarman

Founder and Editor-in-Chief