When you see me in the burkha,
do you see a woman doing her shopping,
going to study, work or get out for a while
or do you see a woman who underneath could never smile
or enjoy her life, always chained to the kitchen,
never exposed herself to strangers,
so she’s alive but not living.
Do you see me as a human with material on my face
or do you see me as a disgrace because you think
Arab is my race
and I can’t dress as I please because of course I really
want to wear
Apple Bottom jeans, or a miniskirt, revealing my body
to any man who sees because without praise from others
I couldn’t possibly be pleased!
Do you see me as a person who cried on 9/11
or am I a potential terrorist under all that garb,
that’s what I am, right, I could never be American,
speak English or drive a car,
I am far from human, I’m a cold-blooded killer,
I deserve to be bombed so I need to go back where I came from, somewhere far, in
the Middle East
where people fight and die and starve.
Did you know I’m a sister, did you know I’m a mother,
did you know I would die for my kids like any other,
did you know that when I go out, I put the burkha on,
when I get home, it goes off and I put on
whatever I want, I smile, dance and be free,
I laugh with my family, work, play, and I be
the woman I am, but I don’t need a stranger
to look at me the way my husband looks at me.
Did you know that I pray for peace,
yes, I ask of the Lord,
or did you think that us Muslims
could never know god.
May god guide you. Can you not see
that underneath this burkha is someone who feels,
laughs and cries just like you, just like me,
many times I’ve smiled underneath this burkha
and felt grateful to be protected from prying eyes
and the heat of the sun but all you can see
is somebody who ain’t free.
I am free from stilettos, I am free from
having to look like a Barbie doll
to get attention, compliments and praise,
I am free from not being able to walk out
without first putting on my face,
plucking eyebrows and drawing them in,
painting on my lips and face,
struggling to be unnaturally thin because
woman’s not good enough as she is,
she’s gotta be attractive, if she ain’t she won’t win
the praises of others, the favours, the money,
the job she wants, the men who tell her she’s stunning.
You’re not stunning to them when you’re too fat
or short or black,
that’s ugly, right? You have to be what they
think is attractive,
so am I really a slave? Yes I am, to god,
What about you? Are you really that free?
To be what you are?
Or is it me?
I’m not interested in fame, fortune or wine,
girl don’t throw your pearls to swine,
in my home I will shine
with my husband who loves me, I don’t even know you,
so when I go out, the burkha’s what I show you.
So next time you see me, or a woman with the veil,
don’t assume our life is oppressive as hell,
we’re all different, just like other human beings,
I can’t speak for others but I can speak for myself,
I’ve reached a level of contentment I never knew before,
I purified my heart and I wanted more
of this bliss I was feeling, so I put on the veil
to be closer to god and away from this worldly mess
of striving for stuff we will lose in the end of life’s test.
So what do you see now? A woman who hates
what she wears, who suffers a terrible fate?
I’m not what you think, you don’t even know,
so next time you see the burkha there’s no need to show
that sour face, that glare because you can’t see her hair.
I bet you never thought I was happy to wear it.
