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Stay updated.",{"html":141},"\u003Cp>By subscribing to our newsletter you are agreeing to receiving updates and communications from Ibraaz.\u003C/p>",{"globalSet":143},{"id":144,"handle":145,"heading":12,"richText":146},"11","gdpr",{"html":147},"\u003Cp>We use cookies to give you the best experience. By clicking 'Accept' you consent to the use of all cookies. \u003Ca href=\"/privacy-policy\">Privacy Policy\u003C/a>.\u003C/p>",{"globalSet":149},{"id":150,"handle":151,"activated":152,"heading":153,"richText":154,"text":156},"16767","notification",false,"Visitor Information",{"html":155},"\u003Cp>Please note that our Majlis is currently closed and will reopen with our next exhibition in early July. The rest of the building is open so please do visit!\u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cbr /> \u003C/p>","Got it",{"entry":158},{"id":159,"uri":132,"title":133,"slug":160,"postDate":161,"typeHandle":134,"sectionHandle":162,"meta":163,"readCategories":166,"writeCategories":170,"missionCategories":171,"figure":172,"pdf":173,"authorInfo":174,"richTitle":180,"richSubtitle":12,"richDescription":182,"richExcerpt":12,"image":184,"externalLinks":192,"entrySections":193,"related":198},"13885","in-the-name-of-love-for-bano-bibi-and-ehsan-ullah","2025-11-06T11:43:00+00:00","read",[164],{"title":133,"description":12,"image":165},[],[167],{"title":168,"slug":169},"Poetry","poem",[],[],[],[],[175],{"authorName":176,"authorRole":12,"authorPortrait":177,"authorBio":178,"authorUrl":12},"Warsan Shire",[],{"html":179},"\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>Warsan Shire\u003C/strong> is a Somali poet and writer, born in Kenya, raised in London, and now based in Los Angeles. Her debut collection, \u003Ci>Bless The Daughter Raised By A Voice In Her Head \u003C/i>(2022), followed the acclaimed pamphlets \u003Ci>Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth\u003C/i> (2011) and \u003Ci>Her Blue Body\u003C/i> (2015). She won the inaugural Brunel University African Poetry Prize (2013) and was London’s first Young Poet Laureate (2014). Shire collaborated with Beyoncé on \u003Ci>Lemonade\u003C/i> (2016) and \u003Ci>Black Is King\u003C/i> (2020), and her work has been widely translated and published internationally.\u003C/p>",{"html":181},"\u003Cp>In the Name of Love: For Bano Bibi and Ehsan Ullah\u003C/p>",{"html":183},"\u003Cp>An elegy for the victims of a so-called ‘honour’ killing that took place in Balochistan, Pakistan in June 2025.\u003C/p>",[185],{"id":186,"path":187,"alt":12,"title":188,"width":189,"height":190,"mimeType":191},"13982","in-the-name-of-love-for-bano-bibi-and-ehsan-ullah/Warsan-Shire-portrait-2.jpg","Warsan Shire portrait 2",444,574,"image/jpeg",[],[194],{"typeHandle":195,"richTitle":12,"richSubtitle":12,"richText":196},"content",{"html":197},"\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>1. \u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Devoted to an invisible\u003C/p>\u003Cp>membrane of honour, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>ablating you of all ill- \u003C/p>\u003Cp>repute, your feted guns \u003C/p>\u003Cp>raised half mast towards us, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>my tongue still drunk \u003C/p>\u003Cp>from my lover’s name.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>2.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Had it been up to them\u003C/p>\u003Cp>she wouldn’t have existed long \u003C/p>\u003Cp>enough to shame anyone’s lineage,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>smeared instead on the inner \u003C/p>\u003Cp>thigh of her father.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>3.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Their honeymoon, sweet,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>sprawled deep inside \u003C/p>\u003Cp>a sovereign love, fortified\u003C/p>\u003Cp>talisman of the heart\u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Ci>Can you be taken from me?\u003C/i>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>She’d whisper while he slept \u003C/p>\u003Cp>beside her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>4. \u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Two bodies in love\u003C/p>\u003Cp>riddled in bullets.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Everything submits \u003C/p>\u003Cp>artificially, borders \u003C/p>\u003Cp>drawn in blood.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>5.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Wherever the small missiles scorched their bodies,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>they had touched each other there first, tenderly too.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>6.\u003C/strong> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>After twelve steps taken on falling knees,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>sixteen bullets punctured organs that exited the body\u003C/p>\u003Cp>into the eight doors of heaven, held slightly ajar. \u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>7.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>The thing you fed our blood to \u003C/p>\u003Cp>is still hungry and requires more, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>so hungry, it’s feeding on itself.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>8.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Each individual pain receptor will testify, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>the gun will want answers from the hand \u003C/p>\u003Cp>brandishing it, the trigger will testify against the finger \u003C/p>\u003Cp>and when questioned the hand will point to the heart,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>and the heart will describe something like\u003C/p>\u003Cp>an invisible membrane\u003C/p>\u003Cp>shrouding it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>9.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Corrupted by legacy\u003C/p>\u003Cp>of honour unearned, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>he who killed me \u003C/p>\u003Cp>lost himself long ago,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>blood atonement. \u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>10.\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>The night before they forced us into a car \u003C/p>\u003Cp>and drove us to a dirt road to shoot\u003C/p>\u003Cp>us until we lay motionless, do you remember\u003C/p>\u003Cp>how I sipped milk out of your open palms? \u003C/p>\u003Cp>After hours spent parting the foaming sea, \u003C/p>\u003Cp>didn’t you nestle deep inside my coordinates,\u003C/p>\u003Cp>you said my oceans governed you.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>My love were we not made of milk the night \u003C/p>\u003Cp>we lapped at each other, on all fours as \u003C/p>\u003Cp>the moon dipped low to join us, our insides jumped\u003C/p>\u003Cp>it was hot and we felt free \u003C/p>\u003Cp>to roam the earth.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>\u003Cstrong>11.*\u003C/strong>\u003C/p>\u003Cp>It has been taken into account. \u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes I loved you.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes I was punished for loving you.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes, even my cells lined up in rebellion. \u003C/p>\u003Cp>And yes my soul touched yours briefly as we ricocheted back towards our creator.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>And yes another version of us exists somewhere raising children.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes we were devoted to one another.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes I remember sleeping beside you.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes I remember the words you whispered into my ear.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes I remember the sweetness of even your spit.\u003C/p>\u003Cp>Yes, it was our honour.\u003C/p>\u003Cp> \u003C/p>\u003Cp>*after Muriel Rukeyser\u003C/p>",[199],{"title":200,"relatedEntries":201},"Related",[202],{"typeHandle":203,"entries":204},"channelsEntries",[205],{"title":206,"uri":207,"image":208,"readCategories":215,"writeCategories":219,"missionCategories":220,"authorInfo":221},"Bano Bibi: We Remember You","ibraaz-publishing/read/bano-bibi-we-remember-you",[209],{"id":210,"path":211,"alt":12,"title":212,"width":213,"height":214,"mimeType":16},"5612","bano-bibi-we-remember-you/BLUE-BACKGROUND-AND-ORANGE.png","BLUE BACKGROUND AND ORANGE",4601,4500,[216],{"title":217,"slug":218},"Essay","essay",[],[],[222],{"authorName":223},"Fatimah 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