My Father, the Madrasah, and Me

In Nigeria, Where Western Education Is King, an Arabic Studies Legacy Lives On

On a phone call the other day with a new friend, Zay, we ended up on the topic of religion. “Did you attend madrasah?” I asked her, referring to the Arabic schools that offer primary and secondary education where subjects like the linguistic characteristics of Arabic and Islamic theology and jurisprudence are taught.

She responded yes, but that she no longer remembers most of the things she was taught there. “I can still write my name in Arabic, I can still write Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem, and oh, yeah, I can still …

Emo Music Made Me a Better Man

A Father Reflects on the Genre’s Greatest Gift—Vulnerability

Is it normal to wonder how you didn’t wind up more of a mess?

As a man, I sometimes find myself asking this question. As an American, I’ve met my fair …

How Do You Grieve a Distant Father?

My Dad’s Traditional Chinese Upbringing and His Mental Illness Kept Me From Understanding Who He Was—Until the Very End

Zócalo’s editors are highlighting some of our favorite pieces from the archive. With Father’s Day just around the corner, we’re revisiting journalist Olivia Snaije’s …

Coming Home To the Homewrecker

Los Angeles Broke My Family Apart-Then Helped Me Put the Memory to Rest

The day we signed our lease, the jacarandas were in bloom. All up and down Martel Avenue, lavender clouds rose against a perfect L.A. sky, and blossoms drifted onto the …