I, Haniya Nadibun, am leading a double life. One side of me is the obedient, pious daughter of a traditional Islamic Moroccan family. The other side is "Asaliy"—the up-and-coming global music sensation, known as "Ashley" in the West.
My family has no idea about my music career. I haven't told them, knowing it would upset them deeply.
They see me as a gift from God, a miracle child born through unconventional means—means they once believed were only possible in fiction. But God can turn fiction into reality. Nothing is beyond His power. I was raised with faith, hope, love, and a deep longing for the deity I worship daily.
Living a double life, especially one that contradicts the other, fills me with guilt and self-doubt. But I don't consider myself a hypocrite. I love God and His religion deeply. I was simply born with an angelic voice, a face that draws attention no matter how modestly I dress. Even when I cover myself completely and wear no makeup, men can't help but stare.
When I sing or even speak, my voice captivates people—it has a trance-like effect on them.
This worries my parents. They fear the world will exploit me for my beauty, and honestly, I share that fear.
But I also feel I should take control before the world can take advantage of me. I should use my gifts to prove that I'm the one in charge.
At the age of 12, I began uploading covers of popular songs to social media. It didn't take long for me to become an internet sensation. I was a natural—no mentorship required.
I chose the stage name "Asaliy" (عسلي), meaning "honey-like" in Arabic. I picked this name because I am as sweet, smooth, and charming as honey. My skin also has a golden yellow hue, reminiscent of the substance itself.
Marriage proposals flood in from cousins and the sons of my parents' friends, but I've turned them all down. I have no interest in any of them.
I often feel men are only drawn to my physical presence and the sound of my voice. My deepest wish is to find someone attracted to the essence of who I am, to my very soul. Perhaps that's an unrealistic expectation.
I have a vivid memory of a pilgrimage to the House of God with my parents when I was fourteen. While normally men and women are separated, this place was different. At first, I didn't give it a second thought.
Then, the unsettling reality struck. I was walking through the crowds when several men behind me began groping my back. I was stunned and disgusted. For this to happen in a holy place underscored a disturbing truth about the world.
Abruptly, the unwanted touching ceased. Turning around, I saw a young man with a darker complexion behind me, appearing to ward off the others.
I realized he was part of our travel group. Later, back at the hotel, I noticed him dining alone and took the opportunity to join him.