حرام عليك

I’m getting tired of living here.  I want to walk down the street in my ripped up black skinny jeans, breasts hidden and hair short, cigarette held loosely in my fingers, letting my eyes rove over whatever the fucking hell I want to look at, and fuck you if you’ve never seen a woman walk down the street and look up at the birds.  Get over it.  We white people, you know, we’re a fairly normal bunch, and I didn’t come to gawk at you, so i would appreciate it if you would STOP STARING.  The women shoot me sidelong glances, the children ask questions, the men whistle, and I am afraid of every single bid for my attention because it is attention paid to shame me and I can feel it.

.لا اله الا الله، محمد رسول الله

God, I miss you.  Your wide open fields and cold breezes call to me like the megaphone-tainted voice that rings out five times a day: Come to prayer, Come to peace.  I love my home.  I love my home and I don’t want to leave it.  And please, my sisters, stop bleaching your skin, and love yours.  Because we have nothing for you but persecution.

From the safety of my balcony, I watch.

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~ by followingsherlockholmes on October 16, 2012.

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