I am a person of colour

Whose simple presence can cause outrage
they use their tongues as swords
and slay me with slurs
Whilst there are others who pretend to be my ally
but I can see their disgust in their eyes
their uneasiness in their smile

I am a person of colour

Whose beautiful traditional garments are cherry-picked
and woven into a disgusting replica
brandished on “Designer labels”
and mocked as exotic

I am a person of colour

Whose skin is secretly envied by them
they exhaust their expenses on tanning salons
and “bronzing” creams
Yet simultaneously they spit on my “darkness”
and promote their products with the so-called beauty of “lightness”

I am a person of colour**

I shall not hide my anger at their ignorance
I shall wear my skin with pride
Because being a person of colour
No matter what I do or how I conform
They will never be satisfied

Us diaspora kids
we are an elite club
not feeling fully rested neither at home
or away
or constantly questioning ourselves
“Am I home or away?”
It can crumble some of us
to feel lonely and in despair
whilst some of us try to blend in

Us diaspora kids
have guilt tied into a noose around
our necks
because we feel that whatever we do
it is some form of betrayal
to our cultures.

I will not let the blood of my ancestors
to be shed in vain
Where they have fought for our freedom
yet my generation are quiet

I will not let westernization
ruin my soul and tatter my traditions
I will not let the westernized beauty
blind me from my culture’s beauty

I will not let the blood of my ancestors
to be shed in vain
Where they have fought for the earth that is now free
the earth where my soul thrives on

I will not let the television
brainwash my perception of spirituality and religion
to make me question that who I am
is wrong

I will not let these white-washed books
to create gaps in my history
I will not let the blood of my ancestors
to be shed in vain

I can feel your
enemy eyes gazing down on me
with that fake friendly smile
as you distress and shake your head
at the way I dress

I can feel your
hateful words slap my cheeks
as you complain about the
way our sisters are sheep
to the west

I can feel your utmost
disgust as you utter
astaghfirullah as if I am
not worthy to be part of
the ummah

Yet I can feel the way
Allah is gentle and forgiving
as I prostrate
and cry for his mercy

He never lets me down
even though my brothers and sisters
may have

Je deteste pas le monde, ni les personnes
Quand je regarde la vie, je pense de Dieu
Il sait pourquoi, et je ne sais pas
Alors, mon debut est avec Il. Et ma fin est avec Il.
Et toujours, je tourne une nouvelle page

Oh, men!
Are you afraid?
Are you afraid that
our beautiful bodies
with our curves and stretch marks
are a canvas
which has nurtured and sustained you men?
Are you afraid of
our wisdom that
made you boys grow
into strong, intelligent men?
Are you afraid, men?
Are you afraid that the way the
world was built and developed
began in a woman’s womb?
Are you afraid by how many
times you have dehumanized and mocked our intellect
yet we are the backbone of society?
Oh, men!
Are you afraid that without us women
you, men,
would have never been
men?

It pains me
That I’m always at
the dusty corners
Like old, forgotten books
Undusted for many years
So forgotten and unopened
that the pages would
stick together
And it would take a
real curious reader
To carefully
take their time
And unravel the pages
one by one
Without tearing them
And with delicate hands
that would soothe the soul
And bring it to life again