Book design, writing
Unholy
Disclaimer: This book explores ideas and perspectives that may challenge religious or spiritual beliefs. However, please know this is not an attempt to discriminate or offend. I believe in freedom of expression, including diverse viewpoints, and welcome open-minded discussion.
The views here represent my personal observations, shaped by experience and research. My intention is to encourage thoughtful exploration, not to dictate beliefs. I invite you, the reader, to form your own perspective on the ideas presented.
The main purpose of presenting this work is to inform the reader, of my design ability, creative thinking and showcase extensive digital manipulation (without the use of AI generative tools).
MY ROLE: Author, Graphic Designer, Art direction
FGM
While each topic deserves attention, for the sake of brevity I'll discuss one aspect to give you an understanding of the themes, evidence and approach for the book.
There’s a harsh reality we must face: radical conviction can be harmful. Religion is deeply woven into our cultural fabric, influencing music, film, literature, legends, and world history. My book examines this complexity, using the proverb, The road to hell is paved with good intentions, as a lens to explore how firm beliefs can sometimes drive extreme actions. Devoted followers may go to great lengths to defend or enforce their beliefs, even when these actions contradict the values of compassion and tolerance. In Christianity, for example, certain biblical passages provide harsh instructions against homosexuality or depict women as impure—texts that feel at odds with more inclusive, modern values.
As part of my research, I watched Breaking the Silence on FGM by Naimah Hassan and heard Khadija Gbla’s harrowing account of experiencing FGM herself. Their stories highlighted how rigid belief systems can perpetuate practices that cause suffering, often justified by cultural or religious norms.
Religious stigmas around sex, sexuality, and ideas of purity and impurity have profoundly influenced cultural norms, creating a foundation for practices like female genital mutilation (FGM), often seen as measures of "protection." These stigmas frame sexuality, especially female sexuality, as something to be controlled, regulated, or "purified." Many belief systems have long equated sexual purity with moral virtue, defining the worth of women and girls through their adherence to these ideals. This view fosters a culture where actions to "safeguard" purity—even extreme measures like FGM—are carried out with the intention of protecting honour, family reputation, or moral standing.
Over generations, these stigmas have embedded themselves into social customs, making practices like FGM seem not only acceptable but necessary to maintain communal or religious values. They persist in part because the cultural weight attached to them ties honour to sexuality, positioning FGM as a way to shield individuals from impurity or sin. Ironically, though meant to "protect," these practices inflict lasting harm, perpetuating a cycle of control and suffering under the guise of safeguarding cultural ideals.
Religion’s influence on ideas of purity and sexuality has thus reshaped cultural practices, often resulting in actions taken "for protection" that contradict the values of compassion and autonomy central to modern views on human rights.
Process & Experimentation
The backbone of designing and writing this book was extensive research—perhaps unreasonable amounts of it. I delved into countless ideas, exploring a range of concepts and experimenting with hundreds of design outcomes, many of which were eventually discarded. In the end, I crafted the images to be provocative and symbolic, aiming to evoke curiosity, even discomfort, to capture the reader’s attention.
Above we have a great example of idea exploration through design. I found a fascinating dilemma in the contrasting ideas of heaven and hell. These realms are meant to represent opposites in terms of experience—eternal bliss versus eternal suffering. But this raised a question for me: if someone in the afterlife reaches heaven, how can they truly be at peace knowing that loved ones who didn’t share their level of religious dedication are condemned to suffer in hell? Wouldn’t the awareness of their suffering transform paradise into a kind of emotional punishment, a constant reminder of the anguish of those they care about?
