In The Language I Cannot Hold, Hami reflects on the recurring suggestion to “just learn German” as the key to belonging in Switzerland. Despite completing five full courses, language has not opened the doors she expected. The post explores how this refrain shifts responsibility onto her, while others thrive without the same demands, and questions whether race makes the expectation heavier. With honesty and frustration, she writes about the exhaustion of trying, the feeling that belonging here can feel like performance, and ultimately reclaims belonging as something she can define for herself — even in the in-between of languages.

A reflection on ambition, self-worth, and the quiet courage of wanting more.
This entry traces the slow unraveling of self-sacrifice — the moment when gratitude stops being enough, and creation becomes survival. It’s about reclaiming ambition without apology, learning that wanting more isn’t selfish but sacred. For anyone who’s ever silenced their own dreams to keep the peace, this is a reminder: you are allowed to expand, even if it means outgrowing who you once were.

A reflection on belonging, language, and the spaces between selves.
This entry sits in the quiet gap between understanding and belonging — where words fall short, and identity stretches across languages. It’s about the ache of almost-belonging, of speaking but not always being heard, and the slow realization that wholeness isn’t something to find but something to feel. For anyone who’s ever lived between versions of themselves, this is a reminder: you can still be becoming, even here, even now.

A meditation on ambition, motherhood, and the silent cost of starting from nothing.
This piece traces the frustration of wanting more when everything you stand on belongs to someone else. Through overlooked applications, invisible labor, and the ache of financial dependence, I reflect on what it means to build something of your own — without permission, and without a net.
For anyone who’s ever been called “potential” but never chosen, this is a reminder: you’re allowed to want more. Even if you have to carve out the space yourself.