Cry Score: 2/10

You sit across from a stranger, twelve inches away, and “receive their energy.” No talking. No blinking, ideally – in week one. After four minutes, your partner will cry and you won’t. Not because you’re emotionally blocked but because they were offering you no energy. It’s their fault.

2. The Diaphragm Hand

Cry Score: 8/10; can easily flip-flop into a laughing fit.

A nepo baby named Theo places one open palm on your stomach while you breathe into your diaphragm, laying down. You close your eyes and feel what it’s like to be supported by the nepo baby. You have no idea who their dad is because you’re not plugged in like that. You squint your eyes, while being yelled at to stare into theirs and take them in. While they look down at you, still supporting your diaphragm, you both start repeating your name back and forth for 9 minutes. You have known Theo for eleven minutes. You fall in love.

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3. The Divorce

Cry Score: 3/10

Theo (you stop calling him the nepo baby. That’s not nice) takes his hand off your stomach and you roll onto one side, facing away from him. You’re no longer in love. You’re told to breathe into your lower back as if it were a set of lungs.

4. The Chair

Cry Score: 10/10

For six weeks, you learn to sit the way a person sat in 1662. Don’t slouch or be too upright – just balance nicely on your sit bones close to the edge of a chair. You close your eyes and start swinging your torso and arms around and over. Classical music – some from the Bridgerton soundtrack – plays while you imagine meeting your younger self. As the music winds down, you tell your younger self “I’ll see you again soon.” Then, you will open your eyes, and turn your chair to face a new partner. You take each other in – tears and all.

Years later, you will lower yourself into a barstool with the exact bearing of a Restoration-era magistrate, and you’ll know this training has paid off.

5. The Slump

Cry Score: 10/10

You stand in a slump that makes you feel like one of the steps in that human evolution poster of ape to man. Cue Bach as your head dangles toward the floor. Your teacher guides you through another fantasy: this time, you picture someone you haven’t seen in a while and don’t think you’ll see for a long time. “We don’t speak much anymore,” you repeat out loud. You open your eyes, roll up to standing. Mind the puddle of your tears right in front of you.

6. Your First Circle

Cry Score: 1/10

You’re back on a chair. Remember your neutral position. You tilt your pelvis back and forth to unlock your first circle. You have other circles too. As your tailbone oscillates between sticking out and tucked in, a tendon in your thighs cramps. You continue to tilt your pelvis back and forth. You don’t need to face Theo while you do this.

Thank god.

Once you’ve done all of this, something will click and you will become like wind.

If you catch this while doomscrolling tonight before the start of the work week, I hope my angst gives you a brief escape from yours. If you’re seeing this tomorrow (Monday) morning, remember - any job that’s mostly emails is not that that serious. Ok, essay is on the next line!]

This week I started acting school, questioned all my life choices, and considered going to law school (again) – all while battling an injury.

In the middle of a back spasm so bad breathing hurt, my brain’s takeaway was: take the LSAT. To the books!

“Yeah, but you settle on one thing for 3 years at a time. That’s pretty good,” my Gen Z sister advised when I shared my turmoil with her.

“I don’t think settling down for 3 years at a time is considered admirable. Imagine if your dad was around for 3 years every now and then – I wouldn’t think ‘My dad was a great guy. He was there for us for 3 whole years.’”

She shrugged: “Well, you and I are not the settling down type. We can do it all.”

The poor thing is also cursed with the desire to excel at many things.

Even when I was younger, I don’t remember fixating on one future job. I wanted many. I wanted to be an astronaut and an archeologist who sang in a band every night. As an adult, I want to be a comedian, lawyer, and dancer operating at the top of my game in all three. It can be done, me thinks.

After I switched majors from biomedical engineering to political science, I felt settled for the first time. I had found the path that was fated for me. And that my artsy endeavors could live on as hobbies.

Apparently not.

It’s funny to look back and see the overlap between the two sets of career paths. I always wanted to perform and simultaneously do something cerebral and intellectually stimulating. Art is stimulating – I’m obviously not saying artists are dumb people – but it engages a different part of you. There’s apparently a word for people like me. I’m not going to say it, because it sounds like a personality quiz result, but its existence is at least reassuring.

There is a non-zero chance that my brain would have these thoughts anyway – a phenomenon sometimes accompanied by a specific estrogen-progesterone mix. I could consider it an extension of my hobby collecting, but, in reality, I never thought I would ever settle on one path.

Since quitting the policy world, I’ve found so much fulfillment focusing on comedy and writing, but something feels incomplete. One aspect is the lack of a sense of completion. My scripts and comedy sets feel eternally unfinished. And the time spent on them often feels unproductive. I’m not being rewarded with a salary or praise for completing the tasks on my to-do list anymore.

I know working a 9 to 5 job isn’t all flashy accomplishment – mostly dull projects that drag for months. But the slow chipping away at something, to be handed off to someone else at some point, feels like things are moving.

Now I’m the boss, team member, and client, and I can move at whatever pace I want. No one is waiting for me to write a show. (My delulu tells me they are – they just don’t know it yet.) So I manufacture the feeling of momentum where I can find it: I look for deadlines, and I tap into the surge of energy submitting a big grant application gets you. I don’t care if it’s mostly rejections. Something moved. Something happened.

Anyways.

Settling down relationship/marriage-wise wasn’t something I was ever psyched about either. I have a problem with permanence and I’m working on it, ok. We live in a patriarchy, people.

But I really would like for my brain to like something so much it eclipses everything else. I can’t sustain my version of a triple threat, straddling multiple very different careers. That requires more money and time than I have. And I can only get more of one of those things.

I don’t regret my life choices. Thank god I wasn’t born with that thought pattern. I’d just like to be all over the place… in less places.

Sincerely without a plan to get there,

Shatha

A few minutes before I handed in my UN pass and walked out of the New York headquarters, I filmed myself in front of the General Assembly building. I said a quick joke I’d been performing in my stand-up set for years, put my phone away, and left.

Last week, after a long social media pause, I posted that video. Three million humans saw it — and, I assume, a healthy number of bots.

The reactions were fascinating. It was my first time “going viral” — an interesting phenomenon in its own right — and the comments gave me pause. Don’t worry. They didn’t change my mind about anything.

But since this is the most interesting thing to happen this week, I thought it’d be worth writing about the expected and unexpected reactions.

Before I get into that list, I think it’s worth making one overall point. I know this is common sense to many of you reading — especially those who’ve passed through the UN conveyor belt — but I’ll say it up top to frame the piece.

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How you feel about the UN is shaped by its track record in your country, your work experience outside the organization, your view of the world, and the impact you want to have in your own career.

I think the UN is an ambitious idea wrapped in beautiful ideals, hostage to the power dynamics among its members. It’s a sorority that can’t police its members too much, because it relies on their dues to exist. More than that, the UN often ends up executing the will of its most powerful members rather than holding them accountable. In some areas, the most it can do is keep a record of what’s happening on a given file. When the organization has to make compromises — particularly political ones — to stay afloat, you’ll see those as a necessary evil or a dealbreaker, depending on where you’re standing.

I’m Palestinian. You’re not going to find me putting the UN, or any expression of the international community’s will, on a pedestal. At least not in this century.

I was in Palestine in December 2016 when UN Security Council resolution 2334 passed, condemning Israeli settlements in occupied Palestinian territory. The US didn’t veto it. A month before leaving office, Obama abstained instead — an inconsequential goodwill gesture, presumably, though I can’t know his real motivation.

There was a lightness in the air in the West Bank that week. And it wasn’t because people were hopeful — We were all in on the joke. Everyone knew this lowest-common-denominator move would change nothing. People fake-congratulated each other. Some honked their car horns in celebration.

So that’s the cynicism (or realism) I was born with. I understand not everyone comes to the UN with this perspective, and I wish I didn’t either. From where I stand, the UN is codifying a world order built after World War II. If that order favors you, you’re golden. If not, you’re screwed. I’m in the latter group.

If you’re someone working hard to be a good cog in the machine — bless you, that’s not easy. If you genuinely feel you’re making an impact within the machine, in any shape — I don’t doubt you. Keep going. I never felt that. On the issues I care about, I knew I had to leave to actually do good work.

And if you’re staying for the visa, the benefits, the family depending on that paycheck — that’s real too. I didn’t have any of those pulls.

So, here’s the rundown:

1. The exodus club. I got to connect with many former and current UN staff members who shared their frustrations about the organization and their personal career tracks. The trajectory tended to start with passion and admiration for the values of the UN, followed by disillusionment, and then a decision to either walk away or accept a state of limbo while they figure out what to do next.

2. Strange bedfellows. I got comments and follows from people who I know disagree with me on fundamental issues, but found comfort in me speaking out against an organization they also dislike. This is where my own naïveté comes in. I assumed people would watch the video, agree with it for my reasons, and maybe look me up to check we were aligned before engaging. But in the era of hyper-scrolling, I think people mostly get served content by an algorithm, decide if it matches their vibe, and engage without verifying much else.

P.S. This group dislikes the UN for the opposite reason I do. They think it singles out their government. I dislike it for not protecting me from their government. Some Israelis might see things the way I do, but I know that’s a stretch. I guess the algorithm did its job and put the video in front of people who share my general sentiment. 🤷‍♀️

3. The “useless” backlash. Many people were annoyed that I’d lumped all UN agencies and departments together and called them equally “useless.” My guess is most of these came from people working in humanitarian, development, health, children’s, refugee, or education work — and likely in the field, not New York or Geneva. I’m not claiming every part of the UN is doomed. I think the earlier framing already covers that.

P.S. Jokes are short and not meant to be nuanced. They are a point of view delivered comedically — not a thoughtful essay on the topic.

P.P.S. I’ll ask: why get defensive about criticism of the UN? If you really believe you’re doing good work and having impact you wouldn’t have elsewhere, my opinion shouldn’t change your own assessment of that.

P.P.P.S. I admire the people on the “frontlines,” working hard to deliver aid and keep programs running. But I don’t think we should overstate how “brave” they are. UN staff aren’t braver than the people — including national staff, working in their own countries — whose daily lives are actually dictated by conflict, humanitarian crisis, or economic collapse. UN staff arrive with far more protection and immunity from these hardships than the people they serve. Worth remembering.

4. Satire, unconsumed. The satire didn’t land for a lot of people, and that tickled me. I got several messages asking how exactly I’d “fixed Syria” when I’d turned it into a failed state. That’s a joke. A punchline. I get that satire doesn’t always land outside a comedy club or a theater.

5. NGO ≠ UN. Many felt I was doing harm to NGOs and their important work. I don’t know how I got to be this powerful! People have different opinions about non-governmental organizations and non-profits, but I think a lot of folks outside the field conflate the UN with NGOs, when the two operate differently. NGOs are, well, non-governmental — it’s in the name. The UN is an IGO: an intergovernmental organization, run by and for its member states. They sometimes work on the same country files — or overlap on broader issues and areas of expertise — but the two are not the same thing.

P.S. Just because someone on the internet says the UN isn’t working well doesn’t mean you should swear off NGOs entirely. Let’s do our research and support the ones we deem effective — they exist — shall we? What’s a better use of your money? Sneakers?

6. Breaking: Water is wet. Some people thanked me for “finally exposing the truth.” I’m not exposing anything, and I’m definitely not whistleblowing. I assumed we all already knew the organization wasn’t doing great, judging by its limited impact on most fronts. It shouldn’t take someone from the inside to say so. But thank you for the kind messages.

7. Utopia, RIP. I’ll say this and accept that it’s mean: I saw a lot of naïveté from grown adults about the UN. Several people told me what they’d thought was a utopian workplace turned out to be an illusion I’d shattered for them. I don’t blame you for thinking that, but humans don’t build utopias. As adults, I assume we’ve all had enough experience in the world to know every workplace is shitty. It’s just about the type of shit you can tolerate at whatever stage of life you’re in. (Yay, capitalism.)

8. Should I stay or should I go? International Relations students asked if they should jump ship. I’m sorry the job market is so discouraging, but don’t let my experience dictate yours. You might love this job. Be stubborn about your choices and stick with IR if that’s what you want. And if it turns out it’s not —

You might just have to jump into the abyss — or, if you’re lucky, have something “secure” waiting on the other side, like comedy.

P.S. If you sent me a resume or asked for a job recommendation — I’m sorry I can’t help. I’m doing the whole comedy thing now.

9. “Wait, you’re funny?” And lastly: many former colleagues reached out, surprised I was “that funny.” Guys. You knew I was that funny. I was always coming up with the best lines at work.

Also, a shoutout to my favorite comment, which captured this whole ordeal perfectly:

Well — half spot on. I was also trying to make you laugh. I’m trying to be a full-time comedian, goddammit!

If my voice and sense of humor resonate with you, I’d love your continued support — and even more, you in a seat at one of my shows someday.

Sincerely, rewatching Mr. Bean,

Shatha

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Footballs (the soccer kind) were also bad. It’s the texture or something. Basketballs were a bit more forgiving because it felt like the force of the impact was spread over a larger surface area (due to larger ball) and therefore the pressure on my body upon impact was lower. SCIENCE. The problem with basketball is the ball spends most of the time above waist level and too close to my head level. For me, that’s where my brain lives. And I like my brain.

Badminton was the best. Who doesn’t like throwing a feather around with finesse? SCIENCE.

I grew up dancing and, outside school, that was my main obsession. But I always wanted to do something sporty. I always thought I’d be great at gymnastics thanks to my hypermobile joints that will accelerate my fall to arthritis. But falling from an Olympic gold medal is still glorious.

When I became an adult, I started using my money to try every hobby and activity I ever dreamed of doing. That involved years of me hyper-committing to circus.

Circus was the first time I came close to understanding the value of sports: repetition. “Again but better” was my coaches’ constant instruction as I awkwardly spun a trapeze or screwed up a handstand. And it was the first time I understood you can’t all-nighter your way through everything.

With anything mental, I knew from an early age that I could get my brain to retain the information I needed it to retain for an exam the next day. And I knew I could count on this to “do well.” Comprehension and long-term retention are a different question. But give me any text and I could recite it and pass with flying colors.

I couldn’t do that with circus. If I wasn’t actively training to get a pull-up, I wasn’t going to perform a pull-up on the day of the show. And there’s nothing my brain could do about it. That’s why it took me years to agree to do my first aerial silks show (the one where you hang and do tricks on a long fabric hung to the ceiling by its middle).

When I went to my first basketball game, I was stunned.

I had missed out on experiencing the joy of watching a good freakin’ “swoosh” shot. And worse yet, I hadn’t even thought to become a basketball player. (Hypothetically if my technique and arm-propulsion-of-the-ball quotient made up for my height shortage, I could’ve made it.)

With every hobby I take on, I mourn the version of myself that could’ve started at seven. That kid would be insufferable by now – and also really good at making swoosh shots beyond the enemy’s reach.

So I just watch the Knicks games at a bar. With my equals – you.

Sincerely buying a basketball,

Shatha

Strolling through a museum with great music in my ears to remember how small we are in the timeline of humans; sneaking bubble tea and dumplings into the cinema at 10am because I can. And dunking myself in 50°F cold water after a 175°F sauna 6 times in a row.

I was having an objectively bad week and decided to go to Bathhouse, the sauna the people of NYC play hooky at. And they have several locations so you can sneak out of work on a Tuesday whether you’re in Williamsburg, Flatiron, or Downtown Brooklyn.

I had to go alone. I love my friends’ company, but I had so many questions on my mind that only solitude could solve. I was hoping Bathhouse would provide an intense dose of the clarity you get after a good hot shower.

The guy at the front desk checked my reservation to make sure everything was “G2G” – his words not mine.

“Who says G2g?”

“Oh, everyone. We’re bringing it back.”

I hope not. I walk into the space – a charcoal-walled dungeon but welcoming. People buzzing around, many in merch, lots with cameras and phones, which isn’t how this place usually operates. It turns out Bathhouse was hosting the Aufguss USA Nationals.

I also had never heard of this. If you’re a sauna goer or German, you probably know about Aufguss – I was told it’s very popular in Europe by the man queueing in line behind me to get into the sauna. Sauna masters guide you through a sauna “ceremony” while pouring essential oils and ice/water on hot sauna rocks to heat up the room. Then they dance around with a towel wafting the steam around the space so everyone can get a strong hit of the ingredients.

At the Nationals, sauna masters from around the country were competing – solo and in pairs – to represent the U.S.A in the Aufguss World Championships in Berlin. Lots of the sauna enthusiasts there already had their trips booked for that.

Every competitor had costumes, stories told through voiceover, and towel dancing choreographed to hand-picked music. The standouts were twin sisters from Vegas who were the 2025 US Champions. So, I had lucked out. And then you would hit the cold plunge and simmer in the neutral temperature pool…until the next ceremony.

I still wanted to get through the questions on my mind –

• What do we owe our families in a time of g-word?

• How long should I wait before giving up on the whole US visa situation and starting fresh somewhere else?

• Do I respond to the guy from the café who looks like my first Czechoslovakian crush?

But every hour on the dot I had to quit the thinking and support an Aufguss competitor with their dream. Maybe dream is too strong of a word here, or maybe it’s exactly the word. I don’t know how much this means to sauna heads.

I don’t mean to be disparaging here. Stand-up is my dream but just a fun side quest for most people – I know this from the countless times I’ve seen audiences come to a comedy show to loudly catch up with a friend in the front row.

Isn’t it amazing how in New York – a city where people are doing all sorts of things and even making up things that most people don’t know are even a thing – you end up coming across a random thing that means so very much to someone else?

Ok, I’m going to re-read this. Check it’s g2g. And send it off!

Sincerely checking if Bathhouse will pay me for this voluntary write-up,

Also, sincerely can’t feel my muscles,

Shatha

Over the past ten years, I worked in international relations – sometimes for the United Nations and sometimes against it. I’ve worked with governments, NGOs, and civil society groups involved in many of the ‘crises’ you’ve heard about: Syria, Sudan, Ukraine, Yemen, Libya, Somalia.

I understood the shortcomings of this field way before I joined it. I’m Palestinian; we were the first thing on the UN’s to-do list and we’re still there. I’m not mad. You’re mad.

My disillusionment grew to a point of no return after 2023. I couldn’t stand the complete abandonment of Palestine at different levels within multilateral institutions (fancy talk for an organization formed by 3 or more nations). And I didn’t want to hear the decimation of my country framed as an “interesting development” in a colleague’s portfolio.

So I left to be loud.

(Fair reaction, I think!)

I had been developing my voice in comedy through stand-up and TV writing. And that side of my life was going well. My instinct for satire, which had protected me from becoming a numb yes-woman at work, led me to being the person on stage rather than just an admirer of comedy.

Shortly after making that decision, I received a letter from the U.S. Citizenship & Immigration Services (USCIS) about my visa – the agency that deals with my visa and my visa alone. The letter threatens my ability to live in the U.S. and work in comedy, so here we are.

Instead of 2026 being about me embracing the artist life full-time and on a campaign to build my audience and take the U.S. entertainment industry by storm (yeah right), I’m on a less public – but equally annoying – pursuit.

I’m still in the back-and-forth with USCIS. They’re very thorough. Bless them!

While the adults I pay sort it out (it may very well not get sorted), I’m going to write here. Just like most of my writing, I’ll figure out what this Substack is as I go. But if you hold my notebook hostage and force me to say something smart about it, I’d say it’ll be a combination of:

• Thoughts on transitioning from a real (well-paid) job to a more real (artsy) job;

• Navigating my version of limbo;

• My selection of hobbies that I use to distract me from adulthood;

• Jokes that have an emotional truth I want to flesh out with more nuance;

• The news (once I resume engaging with the news cycle); and

• The bread and butter of life: friends, family, and men at all stages of life.

Did you like the policy memo formatting I did ^ there? You shouldn’t. But thank you for liking this.

Sincerely doing well,

Shatha