Eiding Disorder

Rubaiyat, TikTok, Dubai, War, and Escapism.

Hi everyone,

The last days of Ramadan often make me yearn for a basic-ass euro summer in the scorching July heat, in an American-filled Italian coastal city, with a gelato and 20k steps where I’m sweating heavily, overspending constantly, and very very happy to be there—but not this year.

This month has been tough on us all, but it was also the best Ramadan of my life. For the past 10 years, every Ramadan revolved heavily around the chaos of planning our annual Eid trip where my friends and I always disagree on the silliest things. Eid 2024 we hated Morocco, Eid 2025 we were unimpressed with Japan (mostly due to our high expectations), but Eid 2026 we were all just so happy to go out for lunch in Riyadh.

The airports are open, I have all of the visa stamps I need, but I can’t see myself anywhere else right now. It feels nice to not escape for once. I remembered the tattoo of a guy I met on L Train in Brooklyn on October 23rd, 2021:

My infamous three-second move to Dubai last month happened a week before the war. When I was in Dubai, something told me to leave. My gut instincts had never felt stronger. I left Dubai and the war started a week later. I’m glad I trusted my gut, and I’m glad I left; but I ended my essay by addressing Dubai saying “I hope you remain tall, vast, and shiny; and hope I never see you again”.

I’ve never felt guiltier about a wish coming true.

War doesn’t suit Dubai. This was an overly happy place, which is part of the reason why I didn’t belong there, and exactly why it ill-fits war. Seeing it under attack is like witnessing a wounded baby Panda or a tween having a manic episode—both incredibly difficult to endure. Nevertheless, I’m confident that Dubai will rise up taller and shinier, like she always does, and I will pay her a visit again.

All things considered, I truly enjoyed having a Saudi Ramadan. I loved walking at Panorama Mall, the Masar, and Corniche an hour before sunset every day. I enjoyed the exercise, the sun, and of course the people. God I love my people. Several of whom said hi or messaged me later saying that they saw me. I will never take being around Saudis for granted ever again. It is such a blessing to be surrounded by your people regardless of how they feel about you.

I visited Rubaiyat’s new store for a TikTok video I made for them. I had initially tried to get them to do a Substack sponsorship and I really respected them for admitting that they have never heard of Substack, and that they don’t care to know. So TikTok it was!

My family was not happy that I was shirtless in the video (some of the comments said I looked fat, but I’d say I look pretty fucking good for a 25th of Ramadan body), so I used the proceeds from the ad to buy said family members (bribe them?) gifts from Rubaiyat. As I was waiting for the cashier to tie the ribbons around the three jewelry boxes I had purchased, a cute girl with her friend came up to me and said that she “is a huge fan of Jewnaizah,” which made me think a lot about my Substack, and it’s primarily why I’m sending this letter today.

I constantly feel like I am neglecting my subscribers, especially those of you who pay me to write. You should expect a different cadence, structure, and format of my Substacks moving forward. I promise!

The thing is, I’m not a preacher. I don’t like to talk about things that would only inspire you and not entertain you or challenge you. Do you guys remember this Eleanor Roosevelt quote that was widely shared in the 2010s?

“Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people.”

Here, we discuss all three.