hijab


I am a Muslim woman
Feel free to ask me why
When I walk,
I walk with dignity
When I speak
I do not lie

I am a Muslim woman
Not all of me you'll see
But what you should appreciate
Is that the choice I make is free

I'm not plagued with depression
I'm neither cheated nor abused
I don't envy other women
And I'm certainly not confused

Note, I speak perfect English
Et un petit peu de Francais aussi
I'm majoring in Linguistics
So you need not speak slowly

I walked down the street in my long white dress and inch-long, black hair one afternoon, and truck drivers whistled and shouted obscenities at me.

I felt defeated. I had just stepped out of a hair salon. I had cut my hair short, telling the hairdresser to trim it as she would a guy's.

I sat numbly as my hairdresser skillfully sheared into my shoulder-length hair with her scissors, asking me with every inch she cut off if I was freaking out yet. I wasn't freaking out, but I felt self-mutilated.

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