dayaxasare

reblooming the 2015 tumblr soul. this time with my own words. soft faith. divine delay. daylight through trees. ✉️ substack: dayaxasare.substack.com

[dayaxasare]

I got soo much yall you can ✨ have it ✨ yea

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[dayaxasare]

just a moment… 🌙✨

Michael Bridge Jackson… 💫

Live life off the wall 🌫️🫧

[dayaxasare]

just a moment… 🌙✨

why… why… 🌫️

the walls echo back 🫧💫

[dayaxasare]

Face card ✨ lethal ✨

[dayaxasare]

Ramadan Mubarak 🌙 💕

عام وأنتم بخير بمناسبة شهر رمضان 🌙✨

[dayaxasare]

Ramadan Kareem 🌙 💕

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Some versions of me only exist in quiet rooms 🪞🌫️✨

[dayaxasare]

There is something deeply unsettling about watching a man tell the world who he is — clearly, publicly, repeatedly — only for that to be ignored once he’s no longer alive to correct it.

Muhammad Ali told journalists, on camera, not to call him “Cassius Clay.”

He explained why. He called it his slave name. He rejected it with intention, dignity, and conviction.

So to continue using that name in tributes today — especially in spaces that claim to honour his legacy — is not harmless nostalgia or “history.” It is deadnaming. It is erasure. And it is a choice.

A dead name is a dead name.

We don’t get to selectively respect identity depending on whose identity it is.

This is especially painful when you understand the history behind it — the forced stripping of names, cultures, and self-definition from Black Americans during the transatlantic slave trade. Ali didn’t just change his name; he reclaimed himself. He embraced Islam, chose his own identity, and became a global icon known to the world as Muhammad Ali.

Not Cassius Clay.

Not a compromise.

Not a footnote.

If we say we honour him, then we honour the name he chose.

Respect should not expire with someone’s life.

I’ve shared my thoughts — and the video of Ali saying this himself — on X.

I’ll link it below.

https://x.com/dayaxa_sarexx/status/2015913644660302327?s=46

[dayaxasare]

It doesn’t feel real that God would take you from me

Just as my hopes were beginning to rise with my prayers

Your name like a prayer falling from my lips sober and over as I mention you to Allah in sujood

I made sure to pray for your health and heart before I prayed for myself

And the day before yesterday I was a witness to a scene that broke my very own heart

Everything including myself belongs to Allah subhana wa tala

And it still doesn’t make sense to me why I had to witness that

Why I had to watch my own heartbreak

I know that never lasts forever, not even our souls in this realm

Things can change in a blink of an eye

I hope that it all changes for me too

Because I want you just as I’ve told Allah

I want you in my arms, I want you to sleep and wake up beside me

I want you to say my name with love and pride

I want to be the only who knows how to love you

And I want you to be the only one who knows how to love me

I want Allah subhana wa tala to bless me with you

And to bless you with me.

[dayaxasare]

for the ones who wake before the world — chasing the warmth of prayer in the cold of dawn. 🕯️🤍

dayaxasare (@dayaxasare)

‘When the Soul Awakes’ 🕯️🤍 The quiet of the early morning The cold mist in the air, The stillness of slumber and soft dreams. Early rise

[dayaxasare]

becoming hurts — it stretches the soul the way light stretches morning. for the ones still in their season of pain, i see you. 🕯️🤍

“A Season of Pain, A Season of Becoming” for the ones learning to love the version of themselves they haven’t met yet. What appears to be

[brightdeadthing]

love as recognition

anna gavalda / friedrich nietzsche / clarice lispector / jandy nelson / rebecca perry / mhairi mcfarlane

[dayaxasare]

#SelfPresentation #SelfRepugnance