In Habiba’s Words: A Story of Finding Harmony Amidst Dissonance through Poetry

Musical dissonance is a sound caused by the tension between different notes sounding together. Seemingly unrelated dualities coming together to create something new. Outside of music, this idea can be experienced in the most unexpected ways. It might be trying a new flavor combination in food. Or learning about something that changes how we see the world.

These moments can be sources of inspiration or find us feeling anxious. What do we do with this new information? Do we decide to embrace honey and cinnamon on ice cream? Does a cross-cultural experience change how we view “being on-time” or what it means to wait in line? These moments can become a catalyst and an opportunity to see both the world and ourselves differently.

Habiba Elbassiouny, an architecture student at NDSU, poet, and activist has felt this many times in her life. She spent the first five years of her life in Egypt but moved with her family to Saudia Arabia where she spent the majority of her time growing up. Being raised by doctor parents and surrounded by academically intelligent siblings brought pressure with high academic standards.

It wasn’t an easy environment to grow up in:

For the better part of my life, it felt like I was stuck between two worlds, one foot in one foot out. When I was in Saudi, I missed Egypt. When I was in Egypt, I missed Saudi. Especially after my siblings traveled for college. I was one of four siblings, each very ambitious and striving for new goals to achieve every day. Soon enough I found myself missing them as well. I was never whole until we were all together. But at the time I was also experiencing an Identity crisis. I didn’t know where I belonged or who I wanted to be. They had all picked paths that seemed so thought out, while I was still stuck trying to climb the high bar they’d set. I remember wondering if I was even going to make it into college.

Habiba began to find her own voice and success with her artistic abilities. “After years of trying, I managed to focus more on the [artistic abilities] and embrace my differences. I had so many hobbies that I bounced between, like piano and reading, but the one I enjoyed most was writing. It started out with a few short stories for school-related projects and later developed into an obsession with the art of poetry. I don’t remember exactly when the switch took place, but I am beyond grateful that it did.”

Habiba had begun to find freedom and success in her art, but recognized something was holding her back. She is a self-described overthinker, a condition that worsened over time. Anxiety had become a “chokehold” and an anchor that pulled her back with every step. She remembers that “I came to realize at some point that if I ever wanted to do something with my life and my talent, I had to break free from that anchor. There was just one problem. I didn’t know how. It was hard, learning to detach myself from the expectations that I strived to reach. The saddest thing was that I later came to realize that I was the one who had set those unrealistic expectations. Not my parents. Not my siblings. I had been so caught up in their version of “perfect” that I forgot it doesn’t exist.”

Habiba learned to embrace the tension of living between worlds, finding balance to enjoy life while learning to be the best version of herself she could be. She found herself in her faith, her music, and her poems. “Poems that helped me understand my feelings better because once the ink touched paper everything became real. All my fears, all my dreams, staring back at me. I learned to love it all. I willed myself to find beauty in everything I once thought was an insecurity, in the things I thought held me back.”

She’d previously thought of her anxiety and perfectionism as anchors holding her back. But, through writing, saw them differently. “I realized that my anxiety helped me empathize, my perfectionism helped me aim higher, moving exposed me to a world much bigger than the one I lived in, and it helped me interact with different personalities and different views.”

Through writing, Habiba “learned to become a part of a world much bigger than the one [she] lived in.” Writing helped her break free from the comfort she had lived in for years, but she had found herself drained of creativity and inspiration due to life changes. Moving to the United States and beginning a time-consuming major like architecture had left her feeling burnt out.

She found an unlikely source of inspiration in the genocide in Palestine. Her poems had left her feeling a sense of despair when writing, they “were, for the lack of better words, depressing. It wasn’t that I was sad all the time. I just never allowed myself to show it. I was the bubbly girl. I was sunshine walking on earth, at least that was what I had convinced everyone of.”

This tragedy, however, brought a feeling of anger to the surface:

I was angry. I was so angry at the world. At everyone around me. At myself. I was devastated too. So much so that I struggled to get out of bed for a full week. The mere thought of facing a world in which that was ok made me sick. How could we let this happen? So many questions and not enough answers. So I wrote. I wrote for them. I wrote for myself. I wrote for the world to listen. If only they did.

Habiba drew strength from her words and began to recognize their power. Through words she felt a deeper connection with her spirit and the spirit of those around her. She felt heard and knew that her words mattered:

“When I read my poems in front of the crowd at protests and educational events, I was not blind to the tears or the overwhelming emotions threatening to burst out of the audience. I knew heartache when I saw it. We had all been drowning in our pain and anger, terrified of the silence of those who care only about their life. My art is a cry for help that every one of them has signed off on.”

Anger fueled her drive to write and express, but she didn’t want to stop there. “I knew that pain and anger could only get me so far. If I had let them consume me, I would have turned into a shell of a person.”

She had a larger vision for her words and art: “I decided I wanted my words to motivate. Inspire. I wanted it to help those who feel defeated to learn to take matters into their own hand. To be patient. Giving up after a no, much like the one Fargo commissioners voted, was not going to be the one that stopped us, and I needed them to see it. I needed to remind them of their role and impact. And that is exactly what I did.”

“I spent my life folded between the pages of books. In the absence of human relationships, I formed bonds with paper characters.”

Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

Writing has been an anchor for Habiba to express herself, understand her emotions, and connect with the world. Her first poem, Significance of the Insignificant, captures her struggle to overcome internal conflicts.

Her ultimate goal for her readers is for them to “feel like they are not alone, that all their emotions and thoughts are shared and valid.” Having felt isolated in her own life, Habiba believes “there is nothing worse than being surrounded by people and still feeling alone.” When people are alone, they may seek comfort in books or music, feeling unable to express it themselves. Her hope is “when they can’t find the means to express themselves, I hope they find it in my words . I hope it makes them breathe better. I want it to evoke every emotion possible, but most of all I want it to inspire. To help people empathize.”