هوازن 🇮🇶Iraqiiqueen Tiktok VOD & Videos

@iraqiiqueen

Scrolling through TikTok feels like flipping channels sometimes—all flash, little substance. But then you stumble on **@iraqiiqueen**, and it’s like someone pulled you into their living room for chai. Real name هوازن (Hawazen), she’s not just another creator chasing trends. Based in Baghdad, she shares unfiltered slices of Iraqi life—no glossed-up facade, just the messy, vibrant, *real* stuff. One video shows her filming early morning light spilling into her kitchen while the *adhan* drifts from a nearby mosque. You see the steam rising off freshly brewed chai, the slight tremor in her hands as she pours it carefully into mismatched cups. It’s intimate without trying to be. She talks directly to the camera like you’re her cousin, not a follower count.

Her food content? Forget sterile recipe reels. Hawazen films in her actual kitchen, flour dusting her sleeves, while explaining how to layer *kubba* just right. In one viral clip, she laughs as her *masgouf* (Iraqi grilled fish) almost catches fire on the *mangal*, yelling, "This is why Grandma never let me near the fire!" She’ll casually mention how her *teta* (grandma) taught her to use *dokhul* smoke for flavor, or show the sticky date syrup (*dibs*) staining her counter. It’s not performative—it’s a window into a culture often reduced to headlines. You can practically smell the cardamom and cumin.

Beyond food, she redefines Iraqi fashion with a playful twist. One day she’s styling a vintage *abaya* with chunky sneakers, the next she’s braiding her hair with *jirh*, the traditional gold threads Iraqi brides wear. She doesn’t shy from modern struggles either—like debating wearing *kohl* eyeliner to her corporate job in Baghdad, or joking about how her mom still checks her phone. Her style isn’t "aesthetic"; it’s personal. You’ll see her same sun-bleached balcony in the background, laundry hanging just out of frame, making it feel like you’re peeking into her world, not a set.

What’s striking is how she’s become a lifeline for Iraqis abroad. Comments overflow with diaspora youth saying, "You’re the first Iraqi creator who sounds like my auntie." She replies to them in that warm Baghdad dialect—full of "yallahs" and "habibis"—which feels like a hug. After a video about making *timman zurbi* (saffron rice), an Iraqi-American girl commented, "Made this for my kids tonight. They finally felt connected." Hawazen’s impact isn’t about metrics; it’s in these tiny moments of belonging. She’s turning cultural preservation into something joyful, not heavy.

In a space crowded with perfection, Hawazen’s magic is her humanness. She stumbles over words, her kids sometimes photobomb, and her edits are delightfully rough—like when she accidentally filmed her cat walking over the *sambusak* dough. That authenticity is why she’s amassed over 2 million followers who crave realness. She’s not selling a dream; she’s sharing her life, one glittery *kohl* eyeliner tutorial and burnt *masgouf* attempt at a time. And honestly? It’s refreshing.