I Am Sam Kurdish <UPDATED · 2026>

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.

“Is that near Iran?”

If I say “Iraq” or “Turkey” or “Syria” or “Iran” — depending on where my family’s borders fell on some map drawn long before I was born — people nod like they understand. But they don’t. Because I’m not from those countries. I’m from Kurdistan. A place that exists in every way that matters except on most official documents. i am sam kurdish

By Sam

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

We’ve got plenty of stories. And we’re finally ready to tell them ourselves.

Let me start with something simple: my name is Sam. I drink coffee in the morning, scroll through my phone too much, and get annoyed when it rains on my commute. On paper, I’m just another guy trying to get through the week. “Is that near Iran

And for most of my life, those two things have felt like they don’t belong in the same sentence. “Where are you from?”

“Wait, are you guys the ones with the mountain guerrillas?”

It means Newroz. The fire. The dancing. The feeling that spring is not just a season but a political act — a celebration of resistance, of new beginnings, of a people who refused to disappear. I’m Sam. I work a normal job, argue about sports, and have a plant I keep forgetting to water.

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.