I Am Sam Kurdish 🔥
It means never quite fitting in. Not fully Western, not fully Middle Eastern. Always a little bit other — but proud of it. I won’t pretend it’s all poetry and good food.
I don’t blame people. Really. Our history is complicated, our struggle is long, and our homeland was carved up and handed out like old playing cards. But explaining it over and over is exhausting. It means growing up with stories of resilience. My grandmother told me about walking over mountains at night, carrying nothing but children and hope. She didn’t tell it like a tragedy. She told it like a fact. This is what we did. This is what we are. i am sam kurdish
It means food that tastes like memory. Dolma, biryani, kuba, mastaw. The smell of lamb and spices drifting through my mother’s kitchen on a Friday afternoon. Meals that take six hours to prepare and twenty minutes to eat — and that’s exactly the point. It means never quite fitting in
It’s such an innocent question. People ask it at parties, in waiting rooms, on first dates. And every time, my brain does a little gymnastics routine. I won’t pretend it’s all poetry and good food
It means Newroz. The fire. The dancing. The feeling that spring is not just a season but a political act — a celebration of resistance, of new beginnings, of a people who refused to disappear. I’m Sam. I work a normal job, argue about sports, and have a plant I keep forgetting to water.
It means explaining to friends why you don’t visit your parents’ homeland as easily as they visit theirs. Why a “vacation” to that village your grandfather mentioned might involve military checkpoints and a language that isn’t yours and a flag you’re not technically allowed to fly.
If I say “Kurdish,” I get the follow-ups: