My full name is Lena Yasmeen Harbali. In Arabic, Lena means baby palm tree. Yasmeen is the the Arabic version of Jasmine. In Syria, where my father is from, there are white jasmine flowers that grow on the concrete walls. They fill the streets with their sweet scent like fragrant graffiti. I’m the rose that grew from concrete and then learned how to climb.
Many events in my life lead me to becoming a fashion designer, artist, and model.
As a child, I had trouble expressing myself with words. I’m dyslexic and I used to stutter and trip over my words much more than I do now. I could never find the right words to say, and when I tried to talk, it all came out in a garbled mess. So, I chose to stay quiet. Instead, I drew.
I started drawing as soon as I could hold a crayon.
Art was a fantasy land that I could escape to when being me became too stressful. When I learned to tie knots, I ransacked my mom’s Hijab collection and tied different ones together to make “dresses”.
I was five years old when my mom and grandmother started teaching me to sew with a needle and thread.
Once I learned the basics, I was hooked, and was constantly making things out of any materials I could find. Before long, my dolls had a whole new wardrobe. At eleven years old, I made my very first life-sized garment: a red shirt with black sleeves. It was ill-fitted and messy but I wore my creation with pride.
Over the next few years my body started to develop, and I felt the sudden sting of what it meant to be a woman in a conservative Muslim family. The inequities between my brother and I were impossible to ignore, and subconsciously I began to resent the fact that I was female. To add to that resentment, as my curves came in, I realized that I didn’t look like the girls in magazines. I wanted to be skinny and blonde. This self hatred lead me to become anorexic, bulimic, self-harming, and suicidal. By the age of 13, I had tried to take my own life three times.
It was during this time that I began to question my relationship with God and religion. When I experienced my first girl crush in 5th grade, it was such a foreign feeling that I violently rejected that part of me, further exasperating the self hatred.
In high school, the depression and eating disorders continued, but I had become an expert at pretending to be happy. At this point I was in complete denial of my sexuality. I remember being called “bi-curious” aggressively denying it.
Despite my parents efforts to control my wardrobe, I still managed to express my style. I would pack clothes to change into at school, and switch back into modest clothes before going home. I was living a completely double life, and still pretending to be Muslim.
In college, I studied Art Education.
This was my parents idea of a “practical” degree, and because I didn’t want to rock the boat, I went along. Still, fashion was what brought me to life, and I dreamed of sending my designs down a runway.
In 2013, that opportunity came to me in the oddest way. I was on Craigslist, looking for gigs to make some extra money. I noticed an ad looking for models for Eastern Michigan University Fashion Week. “That’s my school!” I thought. I didn’t even know we had a fashion week! I applied with a few headshots. In the email I said
“I also design clothes.”
That one statement changed my life forever. I stared at my computer in shock and read the reply, “Can we see some of your work?” Up to that point I had never sewn an entire collection before, only a handful of pieces. I meticulously drew four designs, even attaching fabric samples, and nervously sent them off. The reply came back, “Nice! What else do you have?”
So I drew four more designs.
After all was said and done, I had designed a total of ten looks and sewed them in less than thirty days. I showed my collection alongside design school seniors, and the crowd loved me.
I was scouted from that show for another show, and from there it snowballed. I graduated university having shown collections on over ten runways, including one at the Detroit Institute of Arts.
After graduation, I taught art in impoverished neighborhoods around Detroit.
I wanted to bring the joy of art to kids that needed it most. Sadly, I quickly realized that I would not be able to make the impact I desired within an education system that is fundamentally broken and inherently racist. It was then I decided that one day, I would open my own school.
In 2017, I came out as Bi-sexual to my Muslim family.
The fallout was so intense that I became extremely ill and spent the next few years in and out of hospitals and battling suicidal thoughts. That set me on a grueling path of spiritual awakening. I’ll be forever grateful for those dark times, because they shaped me into who I am today. With art, meditation, journalling, and martial arts, I was able to heal myself emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
My lifelong mission is to use my creativity to expand consciousness and heal humanity.
Art is what healed me, and art is what I’ll use to help heal others.
The institution I’m envisioning is so clear in my mind. The building itself is surrounded by a permaculture food forest that feeds the whole block. Inside, there is an art gallery, fashion atelier, and classrooms where neighborhood kids can come learn to sew and make art for free. There is a train-to-hire program that provides valuable skills and jobs to the community.
My creative vision is not something I take for granted. It is a powerful gift from the universe that I intend to use to change the world for the better. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to each and every one of you who has supported my art and provided me a platform from which to speak.