Today we’d like to introduce you to Rusul Ali.
Hi Rusul, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
As a child, I had a tendency to notice things, the small, often meaningless things. I often would sit outside and watch. Watch the sunsets, the birds, the people, and simply take everything in. However, I was raised with the belief to always be of service to others. To learn and obtain an education that can help others in the future. My love for observing, creating, and documenting the world constantly felt at odds with the values of service, sacrifice, and education that shaped my upbringing. For years, that tension became an internal conflict until I finally realized that both can exist with in me.
My story, much like many immigrants began when I was nine years old, my mother brought my three siblings and me to the United States after fleeing a war-torn country. Leaving was incredibly difficult because in our culture, her decision to leave on her own with four children was considered taboo, so she left in secret. She sacrificed everything to give us opportunities she never had herself. My mother was forced to drop out of school in the sixth grade, and was never able to pursue the education she wanted.
Because of her sacrifices, I knew that education for me was a privilege, not a guarantee. But I also carried a lot of guilt surrounding my creative interests. I discovered I loved art and photography early in high school, yet I often felt that pursuing those passions would be wasting the opportunities my mother fought so hard to give us. Like many children of immigrants, I was taught that the most secure and fulfilling paths were medicine, engineering, or law. Despite all of this, I couldn’t help but ask for my first camera in the ninth grade. I carried it everywhere, photographing landscapes, nature, and everyday moments. As I moved through school, the feeling that I have to choose a secure career; that could provide stability and help my family, was constantly lingering. Eventually, those persistent feelings won and I pursued a degree in neuroscience with the goal of working in healthcare.
Even while following that path, creativity never left me. In college, I founded a dance club where I choreographed performances, designed concepts, filmed videos, photographed events, and created digital content. Looking back, I realize I was always finding ways to express the creative side of myself. However, when I walked across the stage as a first-generation college graduate, I realized that my mother’s journey and hardship would be more of a waste if I still constrained myself. This moment of realization took years for me to understand and for the first time ever I felt this freedom and ambition to define success for myself.
The most interesting part of my story, however, is that it isn’t unique. Many young Arab women grow up feeling torn between honoring their family’s sacrifices and pursuing passions that may not seem practical to others. Today, while I continue pursuing a future career as a CRNA, I am finally allowing my creativity to thrive alongside my professional ambitions. Photography is more than a hobby or a business, it has become a way for me to connect with people and tell stories that matter. Over the past few years, I have found my creativity but also my why for photography. The people. I love capturing the things they often don’t see in themselves: the love in a parent’s eyes when they look at their child, the pride someone feels after years of hard work, the nervous excitement before a proposal, the quiet emotions shared between newlyweds, or the joy of being surrounded by family and friends. Photography allows me to capture and preserve moments that pass by too quickly. It allows me to document love in all its forms. Through my work, I hope to help people see what I see: the beauty, strength, and love that already exists within their lives.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
I would say the journey has been hard but important. I think all of the internal conflict I faced, taught me something I would not have been able to learn otherwise. Navigating feelings of guilt and a need to honor others’ sacrifices for your passions can be extremely challenging, however, the only way to find the answer is to face those feelings and sit with them –instead of suppressing them like my younger self tried to do for so many years.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
Many people think photography is simply clicking a button. I’ve even been told that all I do is click buttons. However, many people don’t see the thousands of thoughts you have before even capturing a single moment. My work heavily consists of portrait and lifestyle. When I capture people, I look at things they don’t see. What feelings they feel when they talk about their passions/work. What they convey when they look at loved ones. Thats when I capture it. That one moment where they are truly themselves and showing their purest emotions. I think that makes my work stand out, because people expect that I am taking a photo of them, but when they get their galleries they are seeing themselves in a whole different lens.
We’d love to hear about any fond memories you have from when you were growing up?
I think it would be the calmness. I think everything was slower when I was a kid. I felt that days were longer, but in the best way possible. I liked to sit and walk outside for hours just watching clouds, watching people fill the neighborhood in the morning and then disappear until after work, where they would fill the neighborhood again. Back home, we had homes that had these flat open roofs. I would sit there and just think about how the world is full of sonder moments.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://alsophotographs.pixieset.com/folder/57NdNUHN31PI/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rusulalis
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61577531605167
