I Am Sam Kurdish Apr 2026

If I say “Kurdish,” I get the follow-ups:

It means laughing harder than anywhere else. Kurdish humor is sharp, self-deprecating, and often involves someone’s uncle doing something ridiculous. We’ve survived so much that we’ve learned not to take ourselves too seriously.

I don’t blame people. Really. Our history is complicated, our struggle is long, and our homeland was carved up and handed out like old playing cards. But explaining it over and over is exhausting. It means growing up with stories of resilience. My grandmother told me about walking over mountains at night, carrying nothing but children and hope. She didn’t tell it like a tragedy. She told it like a fact. This is what we did. This is what we are. i am sam kurdish

It means a language that is ancient and beautiful and, until recently, illegal to speak in schools in some of the countries we call home.

It means music that makes you feel a thousand years old. The sound of the tembûr, the slow ache in a Dengbêj’s voice, singing stories that were never written down because writing wasn’t safe, but memory was. If I say “Kurdish,” I get the follow-ups:

Next time you meet someone Kurdish, don’t ask them to explain their entire geopolitical situation. Just say hello. Maybe share some tea.

We’ve got plenty of stories. And we’re finally ready to tell them ourselves. I don’t blame people

And I’m Kurdish. I come from a people without a state but with an unshakable soul. A people whose anthem is called “Ey Reqîb” — “O, Enemy” — because even our love songs have a little defiance in them.