Angry Hijabi

by Aasiyah Abdul Musawwir

let me be frank with you,
buzz-cut
Mao-quoting
tattoo-bearing
gender and women studies major,
waving your flag of female liberation
up in my face –

no,
Man (with a  capital “M”)
has not colonized my mind.

no
i am not beaten,
abused,
or subjugated
by my heinous male relatives.

and the only thing
militant about my father
and brothers
is their militant hospitality.

so beware, oh guests
of the Abdul Musawwir household –
nay, you will not be skewered
but you can expect
skewers of spicy kabob
and stuffed grapeleaves
piled a few inches too high
on china plates lined with gold.

heaven’s kitchen
resides in my home.

hands too wide for triggers and switches
can only extend, palms up in hearty embrace…
“tafadal, tafadal
el henna washifa.”

so when my eyes flare
and i spit fire

in defense of this ummah
do not attribute my passion to
stockholm syndrome –
a lunatic’s love
for the patriarchal society
that has rendered me
immobile
under a wrap-around of heavy metal.

the people of which you speak
speak beautiful words,
and their tongues break the dull ceilings
of your thought chambers
as they whisper:
“Alhamdulilah,
Subhanallah,
Allahu Akbar.”

and as for this piece of cloth
that consumes you
more than envious socks and tank tops
could ever dream –
know that
you stand correct –

i bow
subservient –

this scarf, my apron in servitude

not to men –
but to truth
and the command of

Allah:

The Unique
The Most Merciful
The Fashioner of all things beautiful –

Allah who defines jihad
as struggle against oppression
and struggle against one’s inner demons

Allah who commands man
to observe the universe
in all its stunning intricacy
to speak for justice,
even against oneself.

Allah who related through the prophet
that smiling at a passerby
is good charity.

and so
buzz cut
Mao-quoting
tattoo-bearing
child of the universe,
i offer you a smile –

in my family’s tradition of offering,
in subservience.