by Qutouf Yahia
One.
More than once I’ve been told that I don’t look like I pray
That I just don’t seem the type
And I often thought that it was because of what I wear
Or how I don’t always cover my hair
But what I don’t understand is how we associate religion with appearance when we don’t even know what God looks like.
Two.
More than once I’ve been told that I am too young
As if being 17 somehow made me insignificant
I don’t think I will ever apologize for the number of years that I have lived
I will how ever point out that this number is the same as the number of syllables in a Japanese Haiku
It is the same as the number of muscles it takes for you to crack a smile
It is the same as the number of weeks it takes a fetus to grow large enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
Three.
More than once I’ve been told that I was a few shades too dark
لو كنت افتح سِنه ..كان بقيتي سمحه
Now that I will definitely never apologize for
I will how ever say this
If black ever becomes a sin
And white the colour of God
Then I will gladly bleach my skin
Will you ever be able to bleach your heart?
More than once I’ve been judged and labeled, tagged and categorized but if just for a moment you would stop to appreciate the contents of my mind
Instead of all the faults that you find then maybe
Just maybe
You wouldn’t be so blind
To how we’re practically the same
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