Advocating for the Voiceless
I get a lot of blank stares when asked what I do. For starters, many Americans have never heard of Copts. I’m certain some initially think I’m talking about cops or police. I then explain how…
I get a lot of blank stares when asked what I do. For starters, many Americans have never heard of Copts. I’m certain some initially think I’m talking about cops or police. I then explain how…
They said it would be tough, but I wasn’t prepared for how intense this would be. I had my second surgery on May 1st, 2018, where I removed my rectum (still have a very tiny piece…
A church that imitates the state will likely also inherit its corruption. The immigrant churches did nothing to counter such deviations, and in some cases unintentionally furthered them. A people living in economic security and cultural freedom chose to inherit the flaws created by a repressive society. The man who hailed Shenouda as “King of the Copts” in 1977 was wrong at the time, but prescient about the things to come. Sooner or later new generations outside Egypt were bound to ask the question of what it means to be a Copt and seek their own path and their personal answers. They are beginning to ask for a different deal from the one their parents accepted from Shenouda. Their passions and support for Egyptian Copts still burn, but they are unlikely to accept a shushing in a church basement.
Therapist Jennifer Ghobreyal writes about our cultural acceptance of using corporal punishment as a means to discipline our children, and how that may negatively affect them both psychologically and spiritually.
I thought a lot about whether or not I should venture on the topic of what it means to be a Copt. What kind of expertise do I have to dare to go there? What sort…
Many of my memories in childhood revolve around the Coptic Orthodox Church and the community I grew up in. My sister and I always looked forward to the weekends, where we spent evenings and afternoons with…
It wasn't too long ago when I received my first-- audible-- negative comment about my clothing.
A short story by Lydia Yousief
I was in fourth grade. I was sitting in class, jittery with excitement, smile beaming from ear to ear. My grandmother had agreed to visit my class and talk to them about her migration from…