Khalid El Khatib

Looks great, feels weird. Is there anything stranger than an airport? In our Airport Code series, writers pick a travel hub to unravel. I lower my mask and lift an $82 Le Labo Cedre 11 candle to my nose. Even on one of the stickiest days of summer,…

There’s a series of television commercials I always look up from my phone to watch. They’re for Progressive home and auto insurance. I don’t own a home or a car, but I appreciate the cleverness of the ads: As people in their mid-thirties—not much…

Just before the GOP caucuses in 2015, I wrote a short letter to the editors of the Telegraph Herald,the paper of record in my hometown of Dubuque, Iowa. I urged voters to reject the xenophobia of then long-shot candidate Donald Trump. I reminded…

Good food is worth a thousand words—sometimes more. In My Family Recipe, a writer shares the story of a single dish that's meaningful to them and their loved ones. I walk into Jenna and Bradley’s apartment and hug them hello. I hand a bottle of wine…

Happy Pride Month! All June long, we'll be sharing long reads, personal essays, and recipes from LGBTQ+ writers. This week: Khalid El Khatib on Julius', the oldest gay bar in New York City. Before moving to Brooklyn in November, I lived in Manhattan…

“I dare you to touch it,” my neighbor nudged me, pointing to the lamb’s eye—still intact—as we hovered over the cooler where it was being stored. I stood frozen until Grandma Amina gestured for us to lift the cooler and bring it to her to be…

Except that I can. Because when I got dressed last Friday night, I knew there was some chance I might meet royalty: Meme Queen Tiffany Pollard. Several weeks ago a friend told me about an upcoming Tiffany Pollard exhibit at the THNK1994 Museum, a pop…

In Tokyo, the best sushi restaurants are unassuming. They're either unmarked—tucked into subway stations and back alleys—or they don't accept reservations in English, let alone from tourists. To eat well, really well, you have to know locals. So my…

Last night I watched the election returns come in with increasing dread. I went to sleep at 4am when it was clear Donald Trump would be our 45th president, and I woke up at 8am to over 100 text messages and 20 missed calls. So many of the texts read…

For most of my friends, I’m the only gay guy they know with any experience with Islam. While my mother is a Wisconsin-born Catholic (and it’s reflected in my complexion), my Palestinian-American father is a practicing Muslim. And so my friends have…