Tasneim Zyada is a British Palestinian spoken word artist, published poet and voice over actor. A perfectly calm storm on the spoken word scene, her performances have featured in the likes of Shubbak and AWAN festival. Her topics of interest include identity, displacement, mental health and faith.
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I cover a range of different creative freelancing jobs, as well as working full-time in a library to afford living in London. But I’d say first and foremost, I’m a writer and poet. And then a creative freelancer. Some of the projects I’ve worked on include voice over acting in Have You Heard George’s Podcast (George the Poet, BBC Sounds) to using my writing in sports in being ASRA run club’s mindfulness coach.
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For me, the work that hits close to home has always been sharing my story, sharing my writing, performing spoken word poetry and facilitating writing workshops in schools.
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This is the direction I’ve been stepping into more lately. I’ve been working in libraries for a while. It started off as a Saturday job during my final years of studying, but became full time, partly because I enjoy the experience.
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In this role I’m around families in a facility that is one of the centre points for the whole community. It’s been strange both during the pandemic and seeing children grow up, it’s a bit of a time warp.
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It’s given me more of an appreciation for the creative side that’s meant for people, these are people that appreciate culture and literature and it’s given me an insight into what my work could potentially do in this space. It motivated me to want to leave my job and invest in creating full time.
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I started writing around 12. It was initially poetry and short stories, and it came from a space of pain – like most poets. There were a lot of strong emotions and I was trying to find a safe space to express them.
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Being a teenager at the time it didn’t feel like there were many avenues for that. Especially at public schools where there are 30 kids to a teacher and you’re in an environment where you’re learning to fend for yourself a little bit. And adding the layer of being Muslim and Palestinian, there weren’t conversations about identity, islamophobia and history going on – or at least not compassionate and understanding ones. I didn’t see myself reflected in the curriculum or teachers. So, I had to find my own safe space to grow emotionally.
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By secondary school I was exploring the musical side of things a little more, a lot of my influences come from hip hop and spoken word. I did science at A levels but was also doing English Literature and Photography – before eventually deciding to continue with English and Creative Writing at university.
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And that’s been a long and one of the most significant journeys in my life to date. I’ve taken a while to finish my degree which I started in 2014. I had the ceremony this year and in between that time I’ve had all the things many people go through in their early 20s.
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Grief played a big role for me and in the process of trying to express myself to cope with it. I split my second year of uni in two parts and took a year out in-between. This is when I started to perform my material in London open mics a lot.
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I did my first festival in 2018, working with the AWAN (Arab Women Artists Now) festival, a chapter of Arts Canteen – one of the biggest organisations for Arab arts and culture. The relationships I built with them helped me book more festivals, notably the Waltham Forest Mela in 2019 and the closing show of this year’s Shubbak Festival that was mentioned as a “must see” in the Evening Standard!
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It’s all about expression and for me, it made such a big difference when I decided to prioritise my mental health, which is why it’s taken me as long as it has to finish my degree. It was important for me to have the space to grieve, to get therapy and to maintain that.
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I’ve always written for me first – and then if that inspires other people to do the same thing when they hear more about my journey with it, then that’s great. There is definitely a mental health and mindfulness aspect to my projects.
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Even with the running club – we do vocal exercises to loosen up the muscles first as I believe heavy emotional experiences can become trapped in the body. Then we do words of affirmation.
It’s about approaching things in a more holistic way. To be more connected with yourself and what is coming out of your mouth, whether it’s screaming, talking or choosing the words that you say. At the end of the mindfulness segment, we offer a moment of individual prayer/grounding before we start the warm ups. ASRA was created to cater a safe space for Muslim women to run and it’s open to all faiths.
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I use my role to emphasise intention setting and getting into the right headspace before doing what it is that you need to do.
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I’m Muslim but the spiritual side of my faith didn’t really kick in until my early 20s. Growing up Muslim was a different experience to how I connect with my faith now. How my parents practiced etc was what was best for them, but not all of it resonated with me.
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Spirituality is more than what you say and do, I wanted to awaken my entire body to being more connected with something bigger than me. This started off as writing but I think I continued that journey by doing therapy and putting my intentions first. Thinking about everything I’m connected to, the purpose attached and if it aligns with my faith and values.
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This approach has lead to my next steps in life, whether it was my career, what I prioritise or making more healing decisions.
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When I wasn’t regularly performing from 2017 to 2019, it was in reaction to feeling the spoken word scene was heavy on exploiting trauma (I talk about this in my poem ‘Healing’). For me, it started as just sharing my story and voicing my pain but I never wanted to live in it.
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I did a bit more living in that time, created good friendships and worked on myself. I write for me first – so whether it’s something happy, sad, painful or dark, that’s how I release. But it’s not my whole experience and I never leaned on it to be my main way of earning. I feel lucky for having trusted my gut about this. I would have burned out if thought I needed to constantly create from pain to stay relevant on the creative scene and pay bills.
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Only recently I’ve decided to trial freelancing full time, now that I feel more secure in who and how I am. I’d rather push projects out from that space – instead of one of emotional fragility or instability. I don’t let my emotions dictate my pace and I’m much more aware of the nature of the industry.
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That’s not to say there aren’t genuine safe spaces to share your story! I think the lines between professional and personal can get blurred. I’ve just learnt that you need to safeguard yourself first and practice discernment.
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The language of healing can be manipulated, everyone knows the right buzzwords. It gives you this false sense of safety but writing and poetry is very personal work and if you’re not secure in doing that, you can expose yourself and make yourself vulnerable to the wrong people.
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This is the reality of being a storyteller and sharing so much of your life. It’s about learning boundaries and not being defined by the problems you’ve had to face in life. Especially in an era where we think we know so much about someone who shares what is actually just a small part of their life online.
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At first, it’s difficult because it feels fake to have to try to adopt a new approach in order to become a healthier version of you. It’s undoing 20+ years of conditioning which takes time. And it’s not initially going to feel authentic to you.
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Having therapy has helped me become stronger in separating what does and doesn’t serve me. Exploring that with someone who’s a professional helps you dig into the depths of things without getting hurt. It’s given me a moment to process and breathe. It’s allowed me to make peace with many things in my past and reflect. Because of my work in therapy, I’ve come to conclusions that have helped me become more authentically myself, present and self-assured.
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As I mentioned earlier, the nature of the entertainment/creative industry, has not always promoted safety within yourself as they love to showcase people’s stories – and trauma sells – just as bad news travels faster than good news. But when you’re securer in who you are, that helps with boundaries and avoiding feeling gaslit about your experience.
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Admittedly I’ve not been able to use it much as I would like so far, but towards the end of the year I’d love to facilitate more workshops especially on writing and mindfulness.
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Using spaces like x+why especially with all the wellness and greenery gives you access to a likeminded community who can share in what you’re doing, and it puts me into the right mindset by being able to have space to focus and create.
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It’s just a totally different energy from the crazy London environment outside as soon as I walk in, I’m relaxed, ready to create. Having the space at x+why helps me separate work from home life.
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I don’t know where to begin answering this question. I may be slightly bias because it was such a valuable time for me in general, I’m still processing my university experience. I graduated in a pandemic after starting in 2014. It was worth it for me – everyone’s situation is different, but in retrospect, a lot of the things I have done, I wouldn’t have been able to do without the things I had learnt and experienced at university – both academically and socially. And I definitely wouldn’t have spent 7 years trying to finish my undergrad had I not thought it was worth it.
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Physically it gave me the opportunity to move out of living with my parents and be immersed in a new environment. You also get to network and be surrounded by other people that love to learn.
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It’s never been about the piece of paper – I really enjoy English literature and explore all its different cultures and facets, it felt like an investment in my craft. It’s part of being young and figuring out who you are and what you want to do. There are few other opportunities that allow you to be surrounded by such a diverse group of people in a fairly unique environment.
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I took breaks and did it at my own pace. I do wonder about if I hadn’t gone, what my journey would have looked like. Was all the pressure to meet essay deadlines worth it when my heart is somewhere else? Where would I have been if I focused on writing as soon as I had left school?
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Regardless of all possible scenarios, I appreciate how slowly and gently I’ve pursued my dreams. Each small step I took built up the meaning and value of what I was working towards. That’s why I never quit and equally why I never rushed to get to where I am today because I knew I was going to get there eventually.
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That’s not to say I was never frustrated or stressed with the path I chose, there were many moments I didn’t think I was going to graduate. And that made me feel really low. I allowed myself to feel that and let it pass.
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Joy – wanting to live and be present in the moment and fully take things as they are and see the beauty in all of that. Being present was a process and it’s taken a while to get here. Like everyone, I have moments of dipping into and out of the past but I’m enjoying living and becoming an auntie, thinking about the world I’m going to leave behind and being more purposeful in my approach to life.
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I feel blessed with fulfilling relationships in life and I want to do justice to my lived experience on earth and leave something behind that’s true to who I am – your energy lives beyond your physical presence, and spirituality and faith again come into that.
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Perseverance – take small steps. You don’t necessarily see the big change until after you realise you’re in that big change because of all the small steps you took! Basically be kind to yourself and to show yourself compassion at every little check point you go through, acknowledging all the small wins.
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Therapy isn’t a small change but for me, prioritising mental health bit by bit even when I couldn’t afford it has given the biggest return. Setting intentions and having faith in what comes out of that.
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I think a large part of it is not expecting to be balanced, and adjusting expectations for every phase of life.
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Uni was very full on but as well as doing all this extra stuff outside, it’s about acknowledging you might be tired in certain phases and it’ll be harder to balance but having the right priorities helps you stay on track.
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I also like to have one or two consistent things that don’t change – such as the weekly check-in with a therapist. Having one thing you can stick to just centres everything and it feels like it’s more about managing than balancing.
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It’s made me more present and helped me appreciate my story more and want to invest more in personal work and coming to understand myself. Everything I engage with now is more aligned with who I am as a person thanks to that.
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Personally – more fulfilling relationships, in general having more connections that mirror who I am as a person. And travelling.
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Professionally – this is something that comes out of the personal, as what I do is so closely linked to personal growth. Getting to a place where I can tell my story through different mediums. I see myself dabbling in the film and literary worlds with that more in future and would like to do more voice acting and acting classes.
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I want to work on things that are more about community and linked to my Palestinian heritage.
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I love autobiographies and reading other people’s stories – especially ones that you can see yourself in.
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I’m currently loving and in heartbreak over Midnight, a poetry collection, by the late Mourid Barghouti. His words mean so much to me as a poet and as a Palestinian. I had a full circle moment as I initially saw him at the Shubbak festival in 2015 as an attendee, before I went on to perform for them five years later. I see him and Suheir Hammad as the blueprint for Palestinian artists in the diaspora articulating our multi-layered experience. He is highly celebrated (and missed), his works very closely puts a finger on the space I find myself in.
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I’ve just finished Deborah Levy’s The Cost of Living and it touched several nerves! It was so good! It made me so emotional to be able to relate to Levy’s journey of being a writer and all the struggles that come with independence as a woman. I think one of the most valuable things is being able to share someone else’s lived experiences in life and seeing how they reacted to it. It gives you capacity to perhaps see your own life from a different perspective.
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Tasneim was the author and performer of the poem featured in x+why newest brand video - have a peek below!
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