About

I was born and raised in a Lebanese household in Southern California. Growing up, I constantly found myself living between two realities. Outwardly, I was an American girl who loved swinging on the monkey bars and reading The Baby-Sitters Club. Inwardly, I was Lebanese, speaking Arabic at home and forbidden from attending sleepover birthday parties. I tried to suppress my uniqueness, wolfing down my mother's pita-bread sandwiches away from the scrutinizing eye of American kids toting their white Wonder bread. In Lebanon during long summer breaks, blending in was a struggle, too. I couldn't keep up with my French-speaking cousins, and girls seemed manicured and primped beyond their adolescent years. With age comes awareness, maturity, and self-confidence, and I learned to embrace these differences. I accepted that I'd forever be suspended between two worlds, that I'd never fit one specific identity, and that I'd be like a tapestry, one culture woven into the other. As I grew more worldly, I promised myself I would one day come to Lebanon to live, not just vacation. And here I am. Three college degrees and a few consulting gigs later, I am in my parents’ homeland, working in global strategy management at a leading Lebanese bank. I get my hair coiffed several times a week, like any proper Lebanese girl, and I love the traditional mezze. But I still prefer peanut butter to Nutella. And my American accent is unmistakable.