Posted in Hijabi Adventures

Words From An Ex Hijabi

Dating as an Ex Hijabi is very interesting and sometimes frustrating, well in all honesty dating, in general, is frustrating. I started to notice a pattern or a common theme with Muslim men.

With Muslim men, I placed them in two different categories, and honestly by the end of the first conversation it was easy to categorize. The first category, are the men who believe Muslim women have a choice regarding wearing the hijab but expect when it comes to their wives. The conversation always kind of starts the same, “Why don’t you wear Hijab” or “Have you ever wore the hijab”. I give my reasoning and for the most part, they agree with me. The longer the conversation continues it somehow circles back to me covering my hair or well modesty in general. They may slip into the conversation about how they imagine their future wife in hijab, or how their mothers expect their future daughter in law to cover.  Needless to say, that will never be me, especially not for some man.

The second category is the hijabi bashers. They never ask my opinion about covering, but assume that I hate the hijab and hijabis, which is one of my pet peeves. I have tremendous respect and love for hijabis, especially because I know how hard and the dedication it takes to wear the hijab, especially in a non-Muslim country. Hijabis get enough negativity from ignorant people, they don’t need it from Muslim men, who I believe shouldn’t have an opinion about a woman covering, but regardless you should keep your negative opinions to yourself.

You know what I find funny, the sub-category of hijabi bashers, that end up marrying a hijabi. I find that they want to date or play around with a non-muslim or someone they perceive not to be religious, but when their ready to settle down they find a nice hijabi.

Of course, not every Muslim man fits into those two categories, but the majority I have encountered do.

Posted in Relationships

Everybody’s​ a Vilain

As much as I like to reflect upon my love life and always see myself as the innocent princess, that overcame heartbreak, but that’s not completely true. 

My college years have definitely been eventful and left a couple of broken-hearted casualties along the way. I remember my freshman year after I accepted the internship with the US Coast Guard, I needed to get in shape ASAP. I ended up getting this guy I always saw working out around campus to help whip me into shape. 

Honestly, I was just being myself and was super surprised when I found out he liked me. Unfortunately, my motto was too just go with the flow, but that’s a terrible mentality when it comes to dating. It wasn’t until maybe two weeks in, I realized I needed to end this “relationship”  because honestly, it was only one-sided.  While I was still living a single lifestyle, he was falling for me deeper. 

Trying not to hurt his feelings, and postpone the breakup only made things worst. So, like a coward one morning I broke up with him over text, and gave the worlds most cliche excuse “it’s not you, it’s me”. We ran to each other at a party the following weekend, and he confronted me asking what can he do to make things better. I don’t really remember the conversation, but I do remember the hurt in his eyes. That moment I knew, I’ll always be the villain in his story.

Honesty, everyone is the villain in someone’s story, we’re all humans and make mistakes. I just try to improve upon myself. If he does happen to ever read this, I am sorry, and was just immature and wasn’t used to male attention. 

Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Born Feminist​

As a little girl, I always identified as female before anything else. Above all of my other characteristics, religion, and ethnicity, I knew being a woman is my superpower. 

I don’t recall at what age I realized I was a feminist, but I believe I was born one. 

I remember when I started attending public school and would share my strong feminist views, people would assume it was because I was Muslim, and came from an oppressive home. Honestly, that’s the furthest thing from the truth, my father has always made me feel like the most powerful and brilliant person to walk this earth. 

What made me a feminist, is viewing television, reading books, and any other media outlet, that sent me a subtle message that I am not equal to a man. What made me a feminist is learning history and realizing every society has underestimated or belittled women’s strength and intelligence. What continues to make me a feminist is being a young woman, and society constantly telling me my number one value is my physical appearance, and no matter how hard I strive for “perfection” I still will never be enough. 

Regardless of race, religion, ethnicity, culture almost every woman at some point in their lives, unfortunately, had a man belittle, disrespect, take advantage, mentally or physically abuse them. That’s why Women’s Rights and  Women’s History Month will always have a number 1 spot in my heart. I constantly see women’s accomplishments being overlooked or belittled, but in reality, especially women of color, we have double or triple the number of obstacles any man will ever have to face. 

I’m a powerful Young, Black, and Muslim Woman, and no matter how many obstacles life continues to throw at me, I’ll always keep getting back up, but just a little bit stronger each time.


Posted in The Afro Muslimah

Not Black Enough

As a child, I was extremely quiet and passive-aggressive.  Al Humduillah, I grew up and started speaking up for myself. As I talk to my younger brother about his middle school experience, I can’t help, but sit back and reflect on my completely different experience. 

I actually don’t have too many fond memories of middle school, it was an awkward adjustment period of my life. Wearing the hijab, and a modest uniform did not help the situation either. One memory that has been sticking out lately is the time I had a substitute teacher in Music. 

He was an older Black American man, really laid back and the majority of the students loved him. He was leading a discussion about music that our parents play in the car. So everyone is pretty much participating and having fun, cracking jokes. I attempt to participate, but before I get a full sentence out, he cuts me off.  Informing me that I’m foreign, and my people don’t listen to regular music. 

I was way too shy and quiet to speak up, and say, “no, I’m black, I am just Muslim”. At that point, I remember feeling so embraced and a sense of not belonging anywhere. I wanted so desperately to blend in, and not always stick out as different. Now I realize how idiotic and toxic his statement truly was. Instead of embracing me, and taking the opportunity to potentially learn about a new culture; he just shot me down because I didn’t appear “black enough”. The saddest part is, he’s not the only person who’s made me feel that way. Even though I grew up in a black community, I still was made to feel like a minority amongst my own people. 

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

British Love Story

Let me tell y’all about this man I met at the mall; the poor soul was struggling attempting to buy clothes and asked for my opinion. As a shopaholic, I was more than happy to help him pick out some new clothes, plus I thought he was really cute. He was definitely my ideal type, a chocolate nerd. After we did a little bit of shopping he asked me if I wanted to get something to eat. We went to a Mexican restaurant, which I don’t recommend in England.

Regardless of the food, the conversation just flowed so naturally between us, and we talked about almost everything. At this point in time, I did not have a romantic interest in him, I was just excited about making a British friend. I knew I would eventually be coming home, and did not want to continue my terrible pattern of starting a relationship, knowing it’ll eventually turn long distance.

We were always blunt with each other, and he expressed his distaste for long-distance relationships and broke down the male to female ratio of the world, and he won’t be pressed over any woman. At that moment I knew it was going to be a beautiful friendship, two logical souls who weren’t going to get emotionally attached. 

As the summer progressed, we started spending pretty much every day with each other. I felt like I was with someone I knew my whole life, completely comfortable around him. We both shared a dry, sarcastic, and corny sense humor, which honestly described our relationship. 

Eventually, of course, we developed feelings for each other, and on several different occasions, he tried to get me to confess my feelings. I could never find the words to let him know, that I love and was going to miss him. He became my best friend, and there’s no way I could have adequately expressed how I felt. I knew I was leaving, but deep down there was a part of me that didn’t want to leave him.

He is definitely one of a kind and I wish there were more men like him out in the world. Saying goodbye was difficult, I cried my eyes out when the plane was taking off. As hard as it was to leave a beautiful relationship in England, I know it was the best decision. I’d rather treasure the memories and let go; than to hold on and ruin the relationship. Who knows what the future has in store? 

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

Will I Ever Learn?

In this dating game, we often like to blame the other player when the outcome is not as desired. We may recognize our mistakes after self-reflecting, but then often times end up in the same situation with another person. I know for me, I sometimes set myself up for failure.

At a friend’s birthday celebration, a couple of years ago, one of my classmates admits to me he has had a crush on me for a while. He claims I always ignored him or looked evil every time he tried to talk to me. I thought he was a nice guy and cute, so I thought to myself, why not what’s the worst that can happen.

Some background knowledge about the guy, he was moving to the other side of the country for an internship and graduate school a week after his confessed admiration for me. So, I already set my mind to keep my guards up and never actually get attached or really let him in.

At first, that worked out perfectly, all of our conversations were pretty superficial, and we both were clearly guarded and unbothered by it. I honestly do not recall, when that began to change, and we started to let each other in. The more I got to know him, the more I became attached, and developed deeper feelings for him.

I don’t think I ever showed him my developing feelings, because I knew better than to get attached to a man on the other side of the country, after I recently got burned from a similar situation. Although I knew better, I couldn’t help it, and secretly wished things would turn out in my favor. We began to go get into petty arguments, and I had several failed attempts to cut him off. The sad truth was I really liked him and could see a future with him, but that was a fantasy, that I knew wouldn’t happen.

At the end of the day, he ends up dating someone closer to him, and initially I was hurt, but I got over it. I realized I have a pattern of picking guys, who for one reason or another aren’t completely available to me. Possibly a sign of my commitment issues, or just a freaky coincidence. Either way, I do think everyone plays a part in why we often end up disappointed in this dating game.