#vexxd

you are precious and your are strong

Bus tickets to breathe on

Black plaything on the schoolyard

Eyes coated in headlights

I told Hooyo I’m coming home late and she sends me something sexist,

Women don’t hang out

Women don’t mingle on the lands where boys roam

Not with that libido of yours..

Or never mind that, not with that body of yours

Even if you’re in layers that have layers themselves

No

And women don’t have a place outside of home

but I kept my footsteps

I kept all my bus tickets

and Toronto air as my dope

Hooyo, you don’t understand, I can’t wear oppression, not in front of these men

Not in front of everyone

That’s not what my Jilbab is

With bus tickets to breathe on

Cat called, islamaphobically grabbed and whistled at

From afar to shake some devil out of me

I told him my name is not your lust

He said to me: your people don’t date? then how will you ever know what love is?

How will you ever know what it feels like to have a real man on your skin?

Of course it’s vital to know these serious matters before you…

You know,

Commit.

No woman is in need to be convinced into doing anything they don’t want to do

Like I own this choice, I own this body

But he held his ideas to me tighter than I did to my bus tickets attached to my sleeves

My anxiety shot right into my knees like vaccines I was afraid of back in 03

The same fear running up my spine

Down to an exposed ankle of mine

He doesn’t understand, I don’t want to wear lust

But every inch of me is sexualized

Bus tickets to breathe on: it doesn’t work for airport distress

And for airport distress, freedom doesn’t work overtime with flight

I wish freedom worked with my dress

It only takes one look at the airport

White and distressed, black in distressed

They dug through our humanity locked in luggage

Time bombs of agitation attached to my chest

My supplications hanging off of my voice and falling off of my dress

eyes are stressed and worry is idolized on every news station

They broadcast that Islam holds hands with the sacrilegious

That we’re out to get the world on airport visits

The religion’s got patriarchy running through its veins

Their women deprived and starved of respect in the name of God!

Beaten, battered, silenced

You see, I wouldn’t be standing here today if that were true

I wouldn’t be dressed from head to toe; besides I don’t dress for men

Or for you

But they don’t understand… none of us choose to

Wear the assimilation they need to hold conformity steady

Our bodies need more questioning

Our clothes need more searching

What are we hiding?

The corrupt needs the good old fashioned saving

In the form of cop cars and sirens off

But we’re hiding nothing

With bus tickets to breathe on

Feast your eyes on this walking contradiction

I’ve got the lust after freedom but everything’s holding my back

Locking 2 dollar prayer spots on my mind

I’m talking to God

And I’m closed in on the narrow-minded folk

Who fill the subway station with their air of question

What’s in my bag?

What’s in my bag?

Oppression, bombs, or bus tickets?

wHY??? oMG WHATS THE PURPOSE OF THAT

iDK a council member from sumatra proposed that to "prevent prostitution and premarital sex" like wHAT 

i know indonesia has strict moral principles but isn't the test violating moral principles like wow