Iman Hariri-kia

Oct 1, 2024 | hitha.substack.com | Bellamy Rose |Liz Parker |Hitha Palepu |Iman Hariri-kia

This month was all about routine - the kids back in school, us fully back to work, and getting used the school routine without outside childcare. It was also about Italy - my husband and I escaped to Rome and the Tyrrhenian coast. I got to revisit my old stomping grounds, geek out over obelisks and ancient Roman ruins, eat all the tagliatelle, and read 4 books.

Sep 29, 2024 | hitha.substack.com | Keren Eldad |Hitha Palepu |Iman Hariri-kia |Amy Odell

It’s 3 pm on Friday afternoon. Despite my mad dash across 30th Street Station following my panel, I missed my train back to New York. My new train will board in about 30 minutes, and I’m trying to decide if I cram the rest of my work during the ride or zone out to Real Housewives of Orange County instead.

Sep 16, 2024 | barnesandnoble.com | Iman Hariri-kia |Isabelle McConville

An Unhinged Roller Coaster Ride: A Guest Post by Iman Hariri-Kia Iman Hariri-Kia, author of our former Fiction Monthly Pick A Hundred Other Girls, remembers exactly what was happening in the world when the idea for her latest novel came to her — and you might too. Read on to discover the real-life inspiration behind The Most Famous Girl in the World and what Hariri-Kia hopes readers take away from her novel.

Nov 9, 2023 | marieclaire.com | Iman Hariri-kia

When I first discovered The Clique by Lisi Harrison and its subsequent movie adaptation, I was what the books’ titular clique, The Pretty Committee, would have labeled an LBR: Loser Beyond Repair. But I desperately wanted to be a GLU: Girl Like Us. A Middle Eastern American pre-teen growing up in a post-9/11 New York, I attended a single-sex private school not unlike the one featured in Harrison’s 15-book series, which first hit bookshelves in 2004.

Oct 3, 2023 | allure.com | Iman Hariri-kia

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I begin my nightly ritual: counting the hair between my eyebrows. I run my index finger up and down, back and forth — an old, anxious tick. The skin used to feel so soft. Fuzzy, like a caterpillar. Now the gap feels sparse, coarse. My head urges me to reach for the tweezers. But another, quieter voice whispers a reminder. That my brows will never look, never feel the same again. Before entering elementary school, I remember accepting my facial hair at face value.