The world promises equality, but
my cloth, simple fabric first draped then swathed
becomes a target instead of a shield
My faith tells me to be modest, resilient, and strong, but
the public turns my fabric into a canvas for their stares
a cacophony of murmurs wishing me to disappear
as if the world would be better if I vanished like smoke
The world is vast and varied, but
it is not in diversity that we fail –
it is in the refusal to accept it
I stood before a mirror and chose to wrap my hair
I chose this. I choose this. I will always choose this.
this cloth, this choice, is
my strength, my voice. but
People take my piece of cloth,
my peace in cloth,
and turn it into a piece of a pie chart that the US publishes online and says
look how inclusive we are.
if I could make a wish,
it would be for people to say “let’s be friends” instead of playing spot the difference
not a world divided, but
one where we see beyond the surface
to see each other’s humanity, not our distinctions
I am the embodiment of Khadija, Fatima, Aisha, and Hajr
may their souls rest in peace and spirit carry on in every hijabi
I carry on their legacy
my strength comes from every Muslim woman before me.
so I straighten my thirty-three vertebrae and be a duck,
letting your hate be rain sliding off my feathers
my hair and ears carefully tucked, because
my spirit strengthens with every drop
as long as I am here, I will stand with pride
rooted in my faith, the divine on my side.
