Khawaga masry (or “Egyptian foreigner”) is not exactly how I would like to see myself. But due to a certain genetic hiccup, I’ve ended up with a certain pale complexion that, when mixed with my social upbringing and the particular “fafi” brand of Arabic I grew up with, makes it very difficult for people to believe that I and my parents are Egyptian, born and raised.
This lack of acceptance as a local has been a source of quite a bit of resentment over the years — especially when foreign passport-holding friends get away with it while I remain bound with our detestable and visa-hungry little green booklet.
But nevermind. Ultimately, this is a blog about post-revolutionary Egypt and my perceptions of the repercussions of what remains a very much still ongoing uprising. I was there ducking tear gas on the 25th of January, pushing forward on Kasr El Nile Bridge on the 28th, and dodging camels on the 2nd of February. So if there’s ever a good reason to start a blog, it’s when you’ve just taken part in ousting the only “president” you’ve ever known since birth.