In our Lebanese-Arab streets and patriarchal system,

women are nicknamed
“Baklava”.
“Baklava” by definition is a type of Arab sweet
made from:
puff pastry,
butter,
sugar,
walnuts,
almonds,
among other things.
So, how does it happen?
A girl, a lady, or a woman
(Because there’s a difference between them)
passes by a car
driven by a guy
who tells her:
“So I see Baklava can walk down the street now?”
To make a long story short...
I will slow down to make it clear.
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that sweetens your life,
is terrified of you
day and night
sunrise to sunset.
Walking…
in the neighborhood streets
or in the entrance of her building
because you’re a threat.
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that loves you
avoids you
in the kitchen,
the living room,
the bathroom,
the bedroom,
because you’re a threat.
Who took you out of school?
My fiancé
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that is
all
your life,
avoids your
conversations,
activities,
watching
Turkish soap operas
because you are the threat.

What’s the harshest thing you ever told her
that you now regret?
I’ll answer:
I am the “Baklava”
that you speak of.
I give and I give
and what do you do?
You take,
even by force.
I protect you with my body
and what do you do?
You look for
my body.
I save you
with my soul
from your imagination
and what do you do?
You follow me like my shadow.
This “Baklava”
you speak of
is
your lunch,
your coffee,
your voice,
your “Fairuz”,
your “Sabah”,
your holiday,
your faith,
your security,
your safety,
your mother,
your heart.
So what do you do?
Wait – I’m not done.
I want nothing from you.
Nothing at all.
But
when I give to you,
look at me,
see me,
feel
and reciprocate.
I am a Safekeeper.
What about you?
Safety for the Safekeepersese-Arab streets and patriarchal system,

women are nicknamed
“Baklava”.
“Baklava” by definition is a type of Arab sweet
made from:
puff pastry,
butter,
sugar,
walnuts,
almonds,
among other things.
So, how does it happen?
A girl, a lady, or a woman
(Because there’s a difference between them)
passes by a car
driven by a guy
who tells her:
“So I see Baklava can walk down the street now?”
To make a long story short...
I will slow down to make it clear.
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that sweetens your life,
is terrified of you
day and night
sunrise to sunset.
Walking…
in the neighborhood streets
or in the entrance of her building
because you’re a threat.
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that loves you
avoids you
in the kitchen,
the living room,
the bathroom,
the bedroom,
because you’re a threat.
Who took you out of school?
My fiancé
This “Baklava”
that you speak of
and that is
all
your life,
avoids your
conversations,
activities,
watching
Turkish soap operas
because you are the threat.

What’s the harshest thing you ever told her
that you now regret?
I’ll answer:
I am the “Baklava”
that you speak of.
I give and I give
and what do you do?
You take,
even by force.
I protect you with my body
and what do you do?
You look for
my body.
I save you
with my soul
from your imagination
and what do you do?
You follow me like my shadow.
This “Baklava”
you speak of
is
your lunch,
your coffee,
your voice,
your “Fairuz”,
your “Sabah”,
your holiday,
your faith,
your security,
your safety,
your mother,
your heart.
So what do you do?
Wait – I’m not done.
I want nothing from you.
Nothing at all.
But
when I give to you,
look at me,
see me,
feel
and reciprocate.
I am a Safekeeper.
What about you?
Safety for the Safekeepers