Photo: Sarah B. Gilliam
In 1988, my family and thousands of Kurds fled Northern Iraq to escape the tragedies of war under Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship. Never identified within society or given any record of their existence, my parents left their homes for a chance at freedom. Four years after their escape, I was born in a refugee tent draped with layers of torn and worn out fabrics amidst the jagged and uncertain brown peaks of Southern Turkey.
My work explores the issues of being a refugee and the transition of becoming an immigrant. While being in between cultures there’s a constant search for an identity and a place that feels like home. Primarily using fibers and textiles, I unravel my family’s story and explore the language and cultural shift I experience as first generation. As I carefully thread the needle, I think about my ancestors that would have repeated the same motion to stitch torn things out of necessity or as a means of storytelling. When I repeat the same motion, I utilize the strength of thread to mend the frayed parts of my identity.
My work explores the issues of being a refugee and the transition of becoming an immigrant. While being in between cultures there’s a constant search for an identity and a place that feels like home. Primarily using fibers and textiles, I unravel my family’s story and explore the language and cultural shift I experience as first generation. As I carefully thread the needle, I think about my ancestors that would have repeated the same motion to stitch torn things out of necessity or as a means of storytelling. When I repeat the same motion, I utilize the strength of thread to mend the frayed parts of my identity.
