by President Heidi R. Lewis
September 1, 2025
I write this blog from Colorado Springs, CO. Stolen land—the unceded territory of the Ute Peoples, to be precise—developed with stolen and exploited labor. I do so, because as Sandra Guzmán points out, land acknowledgements “recognize and respect Indigenous peoples as the traditional stewards of their lands and the enduring relationship that exists between Indigenous peoples and their traditional territories.”
“When you are in trouble, you need to put all your energies into thinking that there is a way out. Then, the bottom, the dark hole, becomes just a springboard from which you can leap so high that your head might hit a cloud.”
—Fatema Mernissi, Dreams of Trespass: Tales of a Harem Girlhood (1994)
Dear Nadia—friend,
I can hardly believe you joined the Feminist & Gender Studies Department (then program) at Colorado College ten years ago, five years after I came and did the same. And for so many reasons, that probably being one, I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.
You know our journey to friendship was difficult, at least early on. We were two of few faculty of color at a predominantly white, wealthy, and small liberal arts college far away from almost everyone and everywhere we know and love. We were in a program that primarily consisted of tenured white women affiliates who were often inattentive to their investments in all kinds of racism. We were human beings who made mistakes and unintentionally caused each other harm.
And the list, as always, goes on.
Still, we leaned on each other routinely, not only out of necessity but because we admired and respected each other from the very beginning. And as different as we were, as different as we are and always will be, I believe we genuinely liked each other and still do.
We bonded over our roles as wives and mothers and learned to make sense of the ways our age difference shaped our thinking about and experiences with both. We bonded over our distinct but similar relationships with our mothers and fathers and learned to make sense of the ways the regions where we grew up shaped our thinking about and experiences with all of that. We bonded over that and so much more. We laughed, we fought, we cried, we rolled our eyes, we took deep breaths, we screamed—well, I screamed—we ate, we drank, we cussed, we hugged. We bonded.
And now, we understand each other. Now, we love each other.
I’m pretty sure I’ve been thinking a lot about all of that and so much more of us lately, because I’m so excited about sharing space with you at our upcoming conference to honor the life, work, and legacy of Fatema Mernissi—a dear friend of your family and one of your intellectual inspirations. I can hardly believe it’s been almost a decade since she transitioned, your very first year at the college. I can hardly believe it’s been fifty years since she published Beyond the Veil, six years before I even made my first lap around the sun. You were shocked, or perhaps pleasantly surprised, when I proposed the idea to you shortly after I assumed the presidency almost two years ago. But to me? It was only right. It made perfect sense.
It’s kind of hard to explain, but I think learned to better understand and eventually love you, in part, by revisiting Mernissi’s work. I don’t know if I ever told you that. Of course, I would describe Doing Daily Battle, Women’s Rebellion and Islamic Memory, Islam and Democracy, and her other work as brilliant, profound, critical, rich, complicated, robust, and capacious, one of your favorite terms. Just like you. But her work was also sensuous and dignified. It was delicious. Just like you. I also don’t know if I ever told you that, at least not before yesterday. Haha.
Since the beginning of this year, I planned to write this month’s blog about her, because I was tickled when I found out she and I share a birthday month. Mine is September 15, and you know hers is September 27. Plus, she would have turned 85 years old this year, and you know I love birthday and anniversary years that end with zeros and fives. But just this past Saturday, a spirit moved me in a slightly different direction. A spirit—dare I “say” hers—moved me to (re)tell a few stories of us, stories adorned with her courageous wisdom, fictionalized memoirs that conjure Dreams of Trespass, because…well…
…actually, let’s see if they can speak for themselves.
Nadia wrote to ask if she could call me. I’m on sabbatical, and even though it’s her first semester at the college, she said she didn’t want to bother me while I was “away.” So, this must be serious. She called, and she’s struggling. Nadia is experienced, brilliant, and resilient. But she’s struggling. Folks affiliated with the program were so excited to hire her. But it wasn’t genuine. When we were deliberating, for example, one of them said, “We need somebody who can stand up to Heidi!” Several others adamantly agreed. If only they could’ve seen as far as I did, but they couldn’t. And here we are. They couldn’t hide their racism for long. They never can. And she’s struggling. She told me she doesn’t know who to trust. So, I said, “Nobody. Not even me…yet. I want you to trust me, of course, and I know you can and will. But I’m okay with earning it, and I will.”
“To be alive is to move around, to search for better places, to scavenge the planet looking for more hospitable islands.”
—Fatema Mernissi
“Girl, you did not have to put on no clothes for me!”
“No, I know. But I don’t mind. I like to get dressed and be put together for you. I was taught that’s one way of showing care, of showing someone they’re important.”
“I get that, and I actually really love that. That’s why some people in my family clean house before company come.”
“Exactly!”
“But you know what else? You know one of my favorite aunts was comfortable with and probably loved someone (or wanted to), if she didn’t put her wig on or teeth in when they came over. I remember when I first brought Tony to meet her. I asked him to wait outside while I gave her a heads up, but she said, ‘If you don’t tell that boy to come in here! He family now!’”
“I get that, and I love that, too. There are so many different ways we can and do show care and love.”
“Yeah, I dig both. It all make sense to me.”
“Exactly!”
“Dignity is to have a dream, a strong one, which gives you a vision, a world where you have a place, where whatever it is you have to contribute makes a difference.”
—Fatema Mernissi
One of our colleagues said some real racist shit during the faculty meeting. To be honest, he sang out his racism in harmony with several others. But he took the lead, loudly—not in volume but in forcefulness. I was at home watching the meeting on Zoom, but Nadia was there in person. She spoke, and atypically, her voice was shaking ever so slightly. I almost broke my damn keyboard demanding to speak in support of her, us—all of us. Naomi did, too. Either no one saw us, or we were ignored. Probably the latter. After serving an eloquently forceful critique, as she does, Nadia left the meeting, refusing to be further subjected to some colleagues’ shamelessness and others’ silence. I don’t think anyone left with her, and I could hardly handle my rage. I ain’t been back to a faculty meeting since.
“There are many ways to be beautiful. Fighting, swearing, and ignoring tradition could make a woman irresistible.”
—Fatema Mernissi
Nadia bought me L’Occitane for my birthday. I ain’t never even told her I love L’Occitane, especially the A L’Huile D’Amande with almond oil line. Among other things, she bought me the shower oil—my favorite.
“Beauty is in the skin! Take care of it, oil it, clean it, scrub it, perfume it, and put on your best clothes, even if there is no special occasion, and you’ll feel like a queen. If society is hard on you, fight back by pampering your skin.”
—Fatema Mernissi
I called Nadia from Baltimore to give her some conference updates. Of course, I talked a mile a minute, trying to fit so much in with so little time. She used to that, so she mostly listened, laughed at my jokes and shit-talkin’, told me she was so proud of me, sent love to AJ (because it’s his first year of college and he’s struggling with the recent shooting on his campus and being so far away from home), and asked me to tell her more when I got home.
A week or so later, I called her again.
“Oh my God! I forgot to call or text you on your birthday! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at my calendar as much because of NWSA, and I lost track of the days! I’m so, so sorry! Happiest of birthdays to you!”
“No, you called me! I talked to you!”
“What? When? How? I ain’t tell you happy birthday this year, did I?”
“The day you called from Baltimore to tell me about NWSA—that was my birthday!”
“Oh my GOD, Nadia! I’m so sorry! What? I don’t even know what I was thinkin’, and I’m so glad you know that’s not like me!”
“No, Heidi, I know. You have a lot going on. And I loved hearing from you about how the conference was going. That was the best birthday gift!”
“Maturity is when you start feeling the motion of zaman as if it is a sensuous caress.”
—Fatema Mernissi
I tried to conceptualize and write a single-authored manuscript while I was on sabbatical after a successful third year review, but all that materialized was an article and a bunch of notes. That took a serious toll on my spirit that resulted in me often saying, “I’m not a book person.” Two of my Colorado College colleagues—now close friends—never accepted that, Drs. Nadia Guessous and Scott Krzych. Nadia and I have been through so much. She joined the Feminist & Gender Studies Department while I was taking the aforementioned sabbatical. By then, I had been especially vocal about the racist sexism I was experiencing at the college, including the department (then program), and it didn’t take long for her to start having similar but distinct experiences. We trauma bonded. Then, some years later, it all seemed to fall apart—as relationships built primarily on trauma bonding often do. Again, don’t get me wrong. We have always admired and respected each other to the best of our abilities. We’ve had each other’s backs and fronts from day one. But we were often under siege. So, there were cracks in our relationship that we didn’t catch and address, which sometimes led to conflicts—major and minor—that we weren’t always sure we could resolve. Let me give you an example of the latter, because it relates to this book, and it’s hilarious. To ensure she understands things clearly, Nadia will often repeat what she’s heard in her own words. However, I used to interpret that as her suggesting my wording wasn’t good enough. To be more frank, that shit got on my last damn nerve. Then lo and behold, I start writing this book, and what do I do? Ask her to repeat things I said or wrote in her own words so I could be sure I was communicating in clear, translatable ways. And she did, often and enthusiastically. Let me be even more clear. She spent her entire post-tenure sabbatical writing with me every week, discussing my ideas, reading drafts, giving feedback, and encouraging me to keep pushing when writing was hard. She hosted a reading that was attended by so many people that she had to order more food midway. She bragged about the book every chance she could get, publicly and privately. I mean, damn. “Would you look at God?”
—from the “Acknowledgements” of my book Make Rappers Rap Again: Interrogating the Mumble Rap “Crisis” (2025)
“Writing is one of the most ancient forms of prayer. To write is to believe communication is possible, that other people are good, that you can awaken their generosity and their desire to do better.”
—Fatema Mernissi
It is, Nadia. It really is. And one of my prayers is for us stay us for the rest of our lifetimes. Another one of my prayers is for you stay you—sensuous, dignified, and delicious.
Love always—all ways,
Heidi
Per my strategic plan, “Reconnect, Repair, Restore: A More Thoughtful, Transparent, and Trustworthy NWSA,” these blogs are meant, in part, to aid you in getting to know me and to get you excited about our upcoming annual conference. This one is obviously both. Until November, please take good care of yourself, your loved ones, and your communities, and your beautiful skin to every extent possible.
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