09/14/2026
Long Live Ahmad. 🤎
Sometimes, the conversations that happen in my henna chair stay with me long after the henna has dried.
At Art All Night, a 13-year-old girl sat down at my table and asked me to write, “Long Live Ahmad.”
She told me Ahmad was her friend. He was only 13 years old, too, and just a few months ago, he was killed by gun violence.
When she first came over, she was so quiet. Her face was stoic. I couldn’t get much out of her at first. And then, as she sat in my chair, she told me why she wanted those words written on her skin.
I won’t pretend that hearing it didn’t shake me.
But in that moment, my job was to hold space for her, listen, and give her exactly what she came to me for—a way to honor her friend.
After I finished her henna, she sat in the chair beside my table waiting for it to dry. And little by little, I watched this quiet young girl begin to light up. She talked with her friends. She smiled. I got to see a glimpse of the 13-year-old child behind the grief she was carrying.
That part has stayed with me.
I kept thinking about how young she was. How young he was. And how a child can somehow carry grief, loyalty, friendship, and joy all at the same time.
Her resilience moved me. But I also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that a 13-year-old shouldn’t have to be resilient because her 13-year-old friend was killed.
People often see the finished henna designs I create, but they don’t always see the conversations that happen while someone is sitting across from me. My henna chair has held laughter, celebrations, stories, vulnerability—and sometimes grief.
That night, it held the love of one young friend remembering another.
Long Live Ahmad. 🤎
May his memory continue to be carried by the people who loved him, and may this young girl never lose the light I had the privilege of seeing return to her face that night.
