Underneath your vitriol

You who judges me are more affected by the judgement you pass, than I am by being judged. The shadow you wish to cast over me with your invalidating remarks aren’t going to last an afternoon, but the darkness that expelled such shadows is engraved in you.

 You, you who hates me for my covered curls, my two syllable foreign name, my golden complexion – attempt to strike fear in me by letting off the roar of a lion in whose cage you are. The roar might startle me for an instant, but my steps will soon remove me beyond the reach of your hysterical screeches as the lion turns against you, devouring you. You drum up the appetites of demons you cannot feed, and cannot let loose on those you hate. You were duped by your ignorance and sold into slavery by your fears. 

You seek refuge in a maximum prison from the dangers of others not knowing that the biggest danger of all is your cellmate.

An old Somali proverb says : Fulay hooskiisa ka diday 

A coward fleeing from his shadow 

Call me when you’ve made up your mind

I’ve developed a taste for Earl Grey tea with cardamom and loads of sugar. Go Somali or go home. My tongue is getting blisters. The truth can’t be guzzled, just like this hot tea.

So.

Men are hazy nowadays. Like a thin fog that has you squinting to ascertain whether it’s really fog or if your vision is a tad blurry. They say that they are commitment-averse. They say, don’t be clingy, relax, wait around. Don’t scare him off. The fuck? I want a man who’s strong enough to stomach the truth, resilient enough to stand in his own resolutions come hell or high water, empathetic enough to meet conflict with understanding. I don’t want a scaredy cat that blames his issues on people. That’s a spineless wuss.

Which is why I’ll stay single for a very long time.

But that’s the thing; why do people give condolences to someone for their singlehood? Are people so miserable in their relationships and marriages that they find the very idea of being on their own too terrifying to even contemplate? Don’t people see that they’ll forever be single in their minds? Do people think a relationship is a portal that absolves one of worries and anxieties once walked through? It’s such persistent fantasies that break relationships because one can’t see one’s spouse as they are because of the insistence of living up to an idealistic image far removed from the realm of human nature. If a relationship is the holy grail of human condition, then why do people grow apart, get divorced, end up hating one another?
You’ll always be left with who you are. And if you loathe your own company, why would someone else thrive in it?

So. Unless I can have a crazy passionate love where I can explore the absolute depth and breadth of my – and his– emotions, no matter how painful or uncomfortable, then spare me the headache. Spare me every inauthentic fella who thinks vulnerability is weakness, whilst he pisses himself at the mere mention of love, and can’t assert his true self for shit.

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it’s not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

― Oriah Mountain Dreamer

I choose my death

my friendd
The real damage is done by those millions who want to ‘survive.’ The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don’t want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won’t take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don’t like to make waves—or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It’s the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you’ll keep it under control. If you don’t make any noise, the bogeyman won’t find you. But it’s all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.
— Sophia Magdalene Scholl, a member of the White Rose non-violent resistance movement during the Nazi regime in Germany.

Rancour

Some people see children being abused or mistreated and they hesitate protecting the child by saying that ‘ a mother knows her child best’ ‘ I don’t want to get in between a mother and her child’ or ‘ maybe the mother is under a lot of stress’
A child is not property!! You expect such an attitude from someone mishandling their car or phone or laptop and you bite your tongue by telling yourself it’s their stuff,their money, and if they want to destroy them then that’s their prerogative I guess.
A child is not bought or owned. A child is a complete and worthy human being who is in the vulnerable position of being defenseless against any mistreatment.
Being a parent doesn’t turn you into an infallible person. A shitty woman becomes a shitty mother 9 months later. A pregnancy does not change a person. It only brings out the true colours of a person. That’s why I find women who strive to be good mothers to be superwomen. Seriously, no one can understand how taxing it is to have a child depend on one 24/7 – and even more so with more kids one has.
However, that added stress brings out the demons in malicious people. It doesn’t turn them into supermoms or superdads. It turns them into psychotic abusive twisted fucks. You hear of children being tortured,starved,emotionally abused, sexually abused, murdered by their own parents. And those cases are only the most extreme that make it to the news. Imagine how many other fly under the radar. Or how many years a child is abused and battered before it becomes known. Usually because someone has the humanity to raise alarm.
The apologetic stance we have in the Somali culture is appalling. People would rather watch a mother clearly abuse her kids because of their spinelessness and then have the audacity to slap a moral label to their cowardice by saying oh a mother loves her kids the most. GTFO!!!
A mother has such privilege IF she fulfills her immense responsibilities toward her kids. Allaah didn’t give her such a privilege for nothing. It’s to encourage a positive feedback loop between children and mothers so as to assuage for the mothers difficult task that goes on for 15+ years.
But if she fails in her responsibilities, if she arrogantly thinks that an innocent and defenseless child is her accessory, her punching bag for whenever she’s stressed, then that is the worst kind of oppression for which she will be brought to account!! Allaah forbade oppression from Himself, then what of others! A woman went to hell because she starved a cat, then what of an innocent human being??!
I’d rather the CPS take away that child than for me to silently watch from the sidelines because I erroneously believe that an abusive mother is better than non-muslim foster parents. tf? Allaah is the Guider. A child can be misguided under the watching eyes of strict parents. Have you forgotten about prophet Nuh’s son?
And have you forgotten about the fact that Musa alayhis salaam has Pharaoh as a foster parent??! The very tyrant his mother wanted to save her son from when she threw Musa in the river in his cot.
A child who is alive and well is better off than a dead child, or a child who’s been afflicted with irreversible emotional trauma.
WALAHI! If I see a child in distress, be it on a bus or a mosque, I will go HAM on the mother and I don’t give a flying fuck about how pissed she gets. She has the verbal arsenal to cuss me til Kingdom comes, and she has the strength to beat me up (or try) but that child can’t do neither. A mother might yell at a rowdy child or snap and slap the kid, that’s understandable. But to flat-out beat the child senseless or be so disgustingly verbally abusive?
Would you pass a man beating his wife in the street by saying that you don’t know what she did?
Oppression is oppression. Somalis, I’m sick and tired of this abuse pandering and passivity!! Speak up against the injustices that go on around you before Allaah renders you mute and takes away your intellect! Speak up even if you’re certain that you would be ostracized. Speak even if you’re so scared that you feel as if the bermuda triangle is in the pit of your stomach.
If you witness injustice, know that Allaah put you in that position to test your courage and empathy.
But then again. What do I expect of a people who are blind to the injustices in their own souls. A people who’ve perfected the art of pretence and hypocrisy. A people who cry crocodile tears at the funerals of people they’ve killed, who pledge false dollars to charity just to become known as generous. A people who polish a red apple that is all rotten inside, crawling with maggots. A people who are only concerned with injustice when it floods their facebook newsfeeds, only angered when qabyaalad comes to their backyard, only saddened when their needs aren’t met.
I’ve never been this harsh but Somalis, we’re scum ! We let fear of the truth rob us of our dignity, peace, country, dreams. For fear of being separated from the herd, we’ve sold our souls to the devil at a wholesale price and allowed us to be lulled into a false sense of security. Everywhere around us the false construct we’ve clung to for the past two decades is falling apart, but we got our dhaqan right? Single mothers are oppressed everywhere, but maa shaa Allaah we are a generous lot right? Sheikhs are twisting the truth to further their own causes and use the deen to benefit themselves – but allaahumma baarik we are a people who love the Qur’aan so much, right? Politicians buy themselves beach houses in Malibu with the aid money for internally displaced persons and school children and are mostly a womanizing bunch, but alhamdulillaah we have managed to keep afloat relatively well considering the fact that we’ve been without effective government since 1991. We are a people who are the biggest conartists this world has seen and won’t miss a heartbeat in saying that our kids are born out of wedlock to claim a few extra hundred bucks, but tabarakAllaah we are quick to put ‘loose’ women in their places before they corrupt our clean culture.
Walahi I will deconstruct this systematic falsehood and expose every alley and corner that we hide our feeble and coward selves, until my last breath. I don’t get angry often but when I do, I become the Hulk. And you know what’s so dangerous about me, and this pledge I just took? I’m included in it. I’m my own biggest opposition when it comes to calling myself out on BS. I don’t have any inhibitions, nothing I would stop for, nothing to hide. I’m ready to put myself in harms way just to wake us up from this coma, because I’d rather die in my truth than live in falsehood. I’d rather embarrass myself, stumble, commit the worst social gauffes that’d blackball me from every Somali community on Allaah’s green eath – than to look on as hyenas and vultures are ripping our somalinimo to shreds.
And oh. If you’ve come this far in reading and you resonate, don’t share this. I know what you’re thinking. You feel that anger, the frustration, and you want to hide behind my post and feel as if you’ve done something. You’ll share and after a day or two it’s back to normal. No way Jose! Read this and reflect. Lock this away in your mind. Do.Not.Share. I’m sick and tired of social clicktivism and victim mentality and scapegoating. We are all in this shit together. Step down from your high horse. We’re all either perpetrators or tacit supporters. There’s a third category, but you won’t hear much about that one. It’s ugly and menial and no fun. Burning in the fire of the truth until nothing remains of facades and hypocricy in one’s heart. A slow and agonizing process of focusing on changing oneself before trying to change the world.

وَاتَّقُوا فِتْنَةً لَّا تُصِيبَنَّ الَّذِينَ ظَلَمُوا مِنكُمْ خَاصَّةً ۖ وَاعْلَمُوا أَنَّ الله شَدِيدُ الْعِقَابِ
“And fear the Fitnah (affliction and trial, etc.) which affects not in particular (only) those of you who do wrong (but it may afflict all the good and the bad people), and know that Allâh is Severe in punishment.”
(Al-Anfal 8:25)

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