Malcolm Adham

My favorite sister in the whole world… conveniently, also my only sister. #siblings #family #dance #goodtimes #viralvideos

To know me is to know two of my greatest love languages are gifts and words of affirmation. So naturally, I felt deeply seen when the owner of @wear.suf gifted me this beautifully handmade docker kufi crafted from 100% superwash merino wool. I’m not entirely sure how to describe the colorway.. somewhere between stormy blue, deep violet, and something celestial — but if you know me, you know your boy has always loved blues and purples. What I appreciate most is the intentionality behind the design. The texture is incredibly lightweight yet durable, and the bendable brim gives it a silhouette that feels both classic and editorial in a way I haven’t really seen with kufis before. It feels timeless while still distinct. There’s something special about wearing pieces that feel made with care — especially when that care is coming directly from the hands of a local Muslim woman-owned business. So if you wear kufis and have been searching for something elevated, unique, and genuinely well-crafted, I can’t recommend @wear.suf enough. Please go show her business page some love. Thank you again for the gift. I hope I’m wearing it well. 💜 Mad love, Malcolm. #muslimfashion #kufi #menswear #muslims #islam

Proof of blossoming. #spring #blossom #flowers

Journal Entry: 3/21/2026 “Yesterday was Eid, my first. It was incredible, soft in a way I didn’t expect. Beyond the joy, the fashion, the food, the energy… I really appreciated the flow of it all. Maybe it’s because I’m not married yet. No kids, no chaotic morning, no rushing or stress over outfits. Just me, on a cloudy drizzly day, getting ready for something I had never experienced before. I made wudu the best I knew how (still learning), and got in the Uber. When I arrived, I noticed something grounding. For some, it was still just a regular day. No overly fancy fits, just presence. A quiet reminder that many have been living this life… and I’m still learning. Maybe even still observing. But the love was there. The Imam gave a powerful khutbah, a reminder to honor our fitrah, or “fiddling-fitra” as I call it. After prayer, I spent time with friends, then my grandparents. Ate well and passed out. This morning, I woke up feeling spiritually full, and yet, a little spiritually heavy. Ramadan is over. I found myself wondering if the connection fades, if the discipline leaves. I’ve grown so much this month, more awareness, more control, and I caught myself praying it wouldn’t leave me. I’m still imperfect. Still be’ sinning. But better. And I had this thought, why isn’t there a Ramadan come down kit? Because I wasn’t ready. Still, I feel inspired. The greatest gift Ramadan gave me was clarity about who I am and what I’m called to do. So I got up, hit my rak’ahs (iykyk), gave thanks, and started preparing for what’s next. More storytelling in my own voice, unveiling, teaching, more beauty, more listening, more intentional slowness. And a deep knowing that what I gained won’t leave me. My gifts may be replicated, but never duplicated. I’m clear on the calling now, and that comes from God. I’m deeply grateful for the ummah that surrounded me with love.(Thank you all) I’m excited for what’s next. The world needs healing, and while I won’t fix it all, I’ll do my part and leave the rest to my Father. I think that’s all any of us can do..our part. How beautiful it is to finally know mine. -Malcolm” #eid #thobestyle #thobe #eidulfitr #eidmubarak

Not doing the same dumb shit. So, single, but happily and willfully so.And if you’re happily single too, celebrate that within yourself today…that you’re not in a toxic cycle of love. And if you’re in happy, healthy love, I’m happy as hell for you. But if you’re doing the same dumb shit and calling it love, know that you can always return to self. Cheers to not being trapped in a perpetual loop & Happy Valentine’s Day, Love.💌 -M #love #selflove #valentinesday #selfcare #relationshipgoals

iykyk. If this speaks to you, pass it along quietly. No need to explain. No need to clarify. ……..just know I see it all. This is what’s needed. Stations. Conductors. My light is always on. -M #minneapolis #minnesota #seattle #newyork #losangeles

35 years around the sun — and I’ve never felt more gorgeous. Not the surface kind, but that deep, quiet gorgeous that comes from knowing yourself. From seeing your scars as proof you survived. From loving what’s still unfolding. There’s a peace in me now that little Malcolm prayed I’d find. I’m softer where I used to be hard, louder where I used to shrink. I’m finally giving myself the love I used to wait for. This birthday feels different- truer. I’m not chasing anything. I’m becoming everything I was always meant to be. Here’s to 35 — to grace, to growth, to the beauty of being exactly who I am. 🎂

“For the Speaker, the Storyteller, and the Pen” The Black American experience—while profoundly and meticulously chronicled by voices like James Baldwin, W.E.B. Du Bois, Zora Neale Hurston, Toni Morrison, and so many others—lives in a particular archive, one shaped by both survival and confrontation. But it’s worth remembering that our ancestors who remained on the African continent, and those who were forced into the Middle Passage and stripped of the ability to carry books, paper, or any written record, brought with them something far more enduring: oral tradition. It was this living, spoken archive—story, song, and memory—that allowed our history, faith, and sense of self to survive generations of bondage. The Ifá spiritual system is one powerful example: an oral, monotheistic practice that, though expressed through a pantheon of orishas, is ultimately rooted in deepening human understanding of one Supreme Creator. The truth is, institutions of power have long treated the documentation of our lives—our joy, our resilience, our spiritual frameworks—not simply as history, but as material to be studied, dissected, and repurposed for their own ends. When everything is captured in text, it can be too easily lifted out of our hands and reframed to suit someone else’s narrative. Perhaps the lesson is that some dimensions of our thought and spirituality—like their Ifá antecedents—should resist the permanence of inscription. In remaining oral, embodied, and rooted in community, they preserve a sovereignty of meaning that the written archive, vulnerable to distortion, cannot always protect. And maybe that is our golden egg—our goose. Hasn’t your most life-shaping wisdom come this way? From a grandparent on the porch, a father in a garage, a mother in a kitchen, an auntie at the cookout, or even a stranger who leaves you with a sentence you’ll carry for years. Let’s hold on to that. Written rhetoric should never replace real conversation, eye to eye and soul to soul. Love y’all, Malcolm.

I’ve been really meditating on this lately—especially while working on being more present. In the quiet moments, it’s become clearer to me just how deeply slanted the foundations of corporate and startup culture really are. What’s rarely acknowledged—yet always operating in the background—is the way the system, at nearly every level, works for white people. Especially white men. So when they speak about grinding non-stop for five, ten, fifteen years—what often goes unspoken is the structural support they’ve had all along. Their effort is rarely wasted. The system catches it, affirms it, and rewards it. It’s not that they haven’t worked hard—it’s that their hard work is met with opportunity. With trust. With benefit of the doubt. With doors that open because they were designed to. But for many Black people, the story begins differently. We work to get into the room—just to begin working. And even once we’re there, the space isn’t neutral. It’s charged with the weight of histories and hierarchies we didn’t create. We’re asked to perform under surveillance, to lead without being labeled “too much,” and to keep grinding under the myth that the game is fair. It’s not. We know it. They know it. So what does that mean for us? It means we need a different blueprint. It means we must normalize rest, reflection, and radical self-trust as part of the process. Not as luxuries, but as necessary tools of survival and strategy. Yes, hard work may still be part of the equation—but for us, the work is also spiritual. Emotional. Cultural. And if we try to replicate the path of the white man, we risk erasing the very genius our experience produces. The truth is, we’re not just navigating a career. We’re navigating rooms not built with us in mind. And still—we rise, we build, we create. But that means the climb will look different. That difference isn’t a deficit—it’s the gift. So take your time. Move with intention. Work, yes—but don’t confuse endurance with worth. You’re not behind. You’re just doing it your way. And that, in time, will be the foundation for something bigger than success. It will be freedom. Love y’all! -M🖤 #rest #love

There are some people you meet in life that you just know you’ll stay connected with and love forever. No matter the distance or how infrequently you talk, there’s always nothing but love and respect holding your friendship together. The dope shirt I’m wearing was hand-painted and dyed by one of those people in my life: Carolyn Hitt (@cmehitt ), a multidisciplinary artist, community organizer, and entrepreneur based in Seattle, WA. Carolyn is truly one of a kind—a soul who just gets it. More importantly, she’s always down to show up for the community of creators in Seattle. The other night, while strolling through Capitol Hill, I decided to give her a ring. She wasn’t expecting it since I moved from Seattle years ago. It was around 12:30 a.m., but within ten minutes, Carolyn appeared out of thin air, bringing all her love and fiery energy with her—exactly as she always does. We yelped, hugged, laughed, and yes, I teared up. True to Carolyn’s spirit, she quickly invited me and my guest to tour her underground art studio in the heart of Seattle. It was magical. Inspiring. And, in typical Carolyn fashion, she was humble about all of it. As we wandered through the space, completely enamored by the simplicity and brilliance of the studios, I was struck by the number of artists plugging away at their craft on a Friday night, well into the early hours of the morning. Moments like these remind me so deeply of the importance of healthy friendships, the power of art, and the unwavering need for community. 2025 is off to an interesting start, and let’s be real—we’re all feeling a little nervous about what’s ahead. But friendships like mine with Carolyn, artists pouring their hearts into their work, and the communities we build around us remind me of something important: when we truly tap into one another—despite distance, disruptions, or the chaos of life—we always find ways to create, support, and show up for each other. And honestly, I believe that will be enough to carry us through the next few years. {Carolyn, you’re one of one. Thank you so much for this incredible piece. It’s my favorite shirt ever} 🛸👽❤️ With mad love and gratitude, -M.

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey. 🥃

What’s up, Fam? If you’re reading this, I hope you’re well. I hope you know that in this moment, you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m thrilled our paths have crossed, whether for the first time or again. This past Monday, I celebrated my 34th birthday (Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes.) in West Virginia, the beautiful state I call home. Nestled in the Appalachian mountains, it’s a place I’ve always felt drawn to—yet with a mix of excitement & unease. It’s like my nervous system would scream, “Don’t get stuck here!” While I love being home, I usually can’t wait to leave. But this trip? It was different. For once, I didn’t feel the need to escape. I felt at peace, reassured that life was unfolding right where I was—Morgantown, WV. Go Mountaineers! This time, the beauty of home wasn’t clouded by thoughts of anywhere else. I was fully present, aware, & grateful for the beauty around me. The mountains, dressed in reds, oranges, & browns, signaling fall’s arrival. The winding roads. The fresh air filling my lungs. The mom-and-pop stores with their warm hospitality. The slower pace, the autonomy. It was all there. What struck me most is that it’s always been there. Steadily beautiful. Before my 34th birthday, I’d overlooked it, seeing West Virginia as a place I needed to leave. As a young Black man chasing dreams, I did need to go. We all need to explore. But that shouldn’t mean denying the beauty of where you’re from. Because home isn’t external—it’s internal. And finally, I’ve come home to myself. And it feels good. Good to know I’m okay wherever I am. Good to know that a shift in perspective lets me see the beauty of the present. So if you’ve been running from home, ask yourself—is it the place, or is it you? Maybe it’s you. And maybe when you realize home is within you, everything—including where you’re from—will look more beautiful. With mad love, -M.⛰️ #westvirginia #coopersrock #wv #grateful