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Lesbians wear hijab too, I thought to myself as I overheard two middle-aged White guys talking about how gays and lesbians, with their talk of gay marriage, were a threat to society. Those same goons looked at me funny as I boarded the number four OC Transpo bus bound for the Capital University campus at Hurdman Station in the City of Ottawa’s east end. Another day in the province of Ontario, I thought grumpily as I put on my headphones.
The name is Aminata Ismail and I’m a young Muslim woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to a Somali immigrant father, Abdirashid Ismail, and a White Canadian mother, Juliette Champlain. My parents are divorced, and I was raised by my mother’s side of the family. For the longest time, I was one confused gal. My mother’s relatives are French Canadians, practicing Catholics one and all, and they disapproved of her marriage to a Black Muslim man from Somalia.
My mother’s parents were thrilled when Mom divorced my father, but they got more than they bargained for when the judge granted her full custody. I, the mixed-race daughter who is a constant reminder of my mother’s fondness for the forbidden fruit, was stuck with them. Lots of White families are revolted by the fact that lots of White women are reproducing with Black men, and my mother’s family was no exception. They definitely weren’t kind to me, let’s just leave it at that. I was determined to leave my mother’s house as soon as I could.
At the age of eighteen, I left the City of Montreal for the capital region of Canada, never to return. Seriously, I don’t miss Montreal or the rest of la belle province. Ontario, here I come. While in college, I embraced Islam, the faith of my fathers, and rejected the Whitewashing and western lies commonly found in today’s Judeo-Christianity, much to my mother’s amazement. I met plenty of Somali students at Capital and they were friendly and welcoming towards me. I was like a long-lost sister for them.
As much as I love my Islamic faith, there are certain elements within it that I find more than a bit disturbing. I was raised by my French Canadian family and never thought of it as a blessing until my friend Fatima, a pretty Somali gal I met in my civil engineering ethics class, told me that she was circumcised. I thought such things only happened in the continent of Africa and certain parts of the Arab world. Man, I was totally wrong!
My friend Fatima Abdullahi stunned me with this revelation. Apparently, even though Fatima was born and raised in the City of Ottawa, she wasn’t spared from the barbaric cultural practices of the Somali people. casino oyna Nothing in the holy book of Islam mandates female circumcision but you can’t tell that to the Somali people. One summer, Fatima’s parents sent her to stay with her aunt Hodan in Mogadishu, and while there, they circumcised her. That poor thing.
After Fatima Abdullahi shared this with me, I found myself feeling both disgusted and angry. Female circumcision is a thorny issue in lots of communities and many Muslims get mad when people bring it up in polite conversation. Me? I am the daughter of two worlds. I am half Somali and half White. I am a proud Muslim woman but I am not the type to foolishly embrace random cultural practices like the strict gender separation that Saudi society adheres to, or the female circumcision practices that so many Somalis are so fond of. Glad I was spared from such nonsense. Thanks but no thanks.
I think it’s for that reason that I became a recluse on the Capital University campus. I was polite and friendly to my fellow Muslims, but I didn’t join their clubs or associations. I simply prayed with them, greeted them politely in the hallways, and went about my way. A lot of them wondered about me. The mystery gal who kept to herself. The odd woman out. The pretty gal who stands alone. I was all these things and more.
Let’s face it, I am rather difficult to miss. First of all, I wear the Hijab with some tight-ass jeans which show off my figure. I am damn proud of my womanly curves and don’t apologize for what mother nature gave me. I stand six feet tall, which is considered almost outrageously tall for a female nowadays. My skin is light brown, and my eyes are green. My facial features reflect both my Northeast African father and my White Canadian mother. I am a biracial woman. I can’t escape that fact. Yeah, folks notice when I’m around.
The only person I let near me was my good friend Fatima Abdullahi. In many ways, we were a lot alike. Fatima is five feet eleven inches tall, lean and fit, with dark brown skin and long Black hair which she almost always tucks away under her hijab. Fatima is a lovely woman. Like me, she’s a trailblazer. There aren’t a lot of Muslim women in the civil engineering programme at Capital University. To be female and a civil engineering student is a feat in and of itself, but being a pair of brown-skinned, Hijab-wearing Muslim females made Fatima and I stand out even more. Us against the world, that’s how I saw Fatima and I.
Fatima Abdullahi was my friend, my confidante and my ally. We shared everything. The only thing I didn’t share with her was my dirty little secret. I am a lesbian. A canlı casino queer woman. A lesbo. A dyke. A rug muncher. I am a woman who loves women. I never told anyone about it. Ever. Until the day I came across a novel titled Muslim Lesbian Anthology, by some writer named Teejay LeCapois, while browsing online. I bought the book, and the stories inside stunned me. That’s when I knew I wasn’t alone.
When most people think of lesbians, they think of masculine White chicks with short hair, clad in flannel shirts. That’s definitely not me. I am a prim and proper Muslim sister who wears the Hijab. Yes I am a gay woman but my Islamic faith and Somali culture matter to me, thank you very much. I read the book, and finally dared dreaming of the day when I might find someone else like me. Another Muslim woman who loves women. Little did I know that fate was about to grant me my fondest desire.
One night, Fatima Abdullahi came over to visit me at my apartment off of Bronson Avenue, about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. I live two blocks from the Harvey’s restaurant. I go there often, and it’s starting to show. Seriously, I need to hit the gym. My body is getting curvier and my ass is getting bigger. Thanks but no thanks. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling you about how Fatima Abdullahi and I discovered the truth about each other.
Fatima Abdullahi came over to visit me, and I greeted her with a hug and a smile, as usual. My best friend looked lovely in a long-sleeved red T-shirt, blue jeans and dark blue Hijab. For some reason, Fatima kissed me on the cheek and told me I looked beautiful. I smiled and nodded, then welcomed her inside. I was watching a rerun of Stargate Atlantis on the Space Channel, and decided to order Shawarma now that Fatima was over.
Fatima Abdullahi joined me on the couch, and we just chilled while watching TV. At some point I went to the washroom and when I came back, I found Fatima holding a book in her hands. The novel Muslim Lesbian Anthology, written by Muslim author Teejay Lecapois. When I saw the book in Fatima’s hands, my heart skipped a beat. Fatima is very religious and always quoting the Koran, so I thought she was going to be mad at me. I started mumbling, and Fatima smiled and then laid her hand on my thigh. I looked at Fatima, and she leaned closer, until our faces were inches apart.
I looked into Fatima Abdullahi’s eyes and she looked into mine. Smiling, Fatima leaned closer and kissed me. I kissed her back, and then we paused, and looked at each other. Seriously, I was not expecting that from Fatima. The gal is deeply religious, wears the Hijab, quotes the Koran and goes to kaçak casino the mosque three times a week. I never imagined that Fatima was, you know, like me. A woman who loves women.
I smiled at Fatima, and took her hands in mine. We had a long talk, and it was the most wonderful conversation ever. Fatima Abdullahi was like me. She’d always been into women. Like me, Fatima hid what she was since us Muslim ladies live in a world full of intolerance. When the Shawarma guy came, I paid for the food and gave the Arab brother a big tip, and he nodded and wished me a good day. I returned to the living room, and Fatima and I feasted on some tasty Lebanese cuisine.
After our meal, Fatima and I resumed our talk, and at some point, um, we stopped talking. I don’t know how I ended up on the floor, with Fatima on top of me, her lips on my mouth and her hand in my pussy, but I’m glad it happened. Fatima slowly undressed me, and proceeded to lick my body from my head to my toes. My best friend definitely knew her way around the female body. I shuddered and moaned in pleasure as Fatima worked me over.
Fatima buried her face between my legs, and ate my pussy like there was no tomorrow. I cried out as Fatima fingered my pussy and teased my clit with her tongue. Afterwards, I wanted to return the favor but Fatima was hesitant. With a sad look in her eyes, Fatima reminded me of her “condition” down below. I shook my head and pulled Fatima into my arms. I kissed her passionately, and then began making love to her.
I laid Fatima on the carpeted floor, and kissed her lips, and caressed her breasts. My hand slipped between her thighs and Fatima clenched them shut. I whispered sweet words into Fatima’s ear and kissed her, and she relaxed somewhat. I slid my fingers into her pussy and began fingering her. I kissed a path from Fatima’s tits to her belly, and finally buried my face between her legs. I finally tasted Fatima’s pussy, and it tasted oh so good. I licked and probed Fatima’s cunt, and although it took me quite some time, I worked her over until she cried out, orgasmic.
Much later, Fatima Abdullahi and I lay on the floor, side by side. My best friend and I were happy as can be. Tonight was definitely a night of revelations for Fatima and I. Folks, I am happy to say that it wasn’t a one-night stand. Fatima and I care deeply for each other. We enjoy each other’s company, and we enjoy each other’s bodies. Lesbian sex is awesome!
Hell, Fatima and I are buying sex toys left and right to seriously enhance our already promising sex life. Fatima and I are inseparable, at school and at home, and we are officially a couple. Folks stare when they see us walking by, holding hands and kissing while wearing Hijab but we don’t care. Life is what you want to make of it. No time for haters. Fatima and I are too busy having fun and living it up. Goodnight.
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