Let it be known, I choose to wear the burqa.
I choose to feel safe and in control of my space,
I hold the reasons to my bosom, my breathing, music to my ears,
Under my shield, the world spinning on my fingertips,
The feeling only I can truly understand.
They scream for ‘My rights’
No one asking me if I feel jailed under my clothes,
Ignoring the fact that the answer would be ‘No’
My voice not muffled under material,
But rather by the by-standers’ judgementalism.
Round and around, we encircle the issue of my garments.
Yes, my ‘garments’!
Soon I just might be designated colours to match their preferences.
Suddenly, it’s the world against a culture, a lifestyle; a heritage.
Denying me my conscience; my decision to be the woman I wish to be,
To be part of what sucks me into something greater than just my individualistic existence
I watch the innocent minds cave in to the pressure,
Convinced that they are being dragged into the underworld of ‘ancient-ism’,
Their minds brainwashed with the scrub of media;
Feeding their craving to fit in, soaking their inner beings with fear,
It reeks right through their guts.
Am I the only one finding this degrading?
Watching the child next door wears his crucifix with pride,
I wish the same for my daughter
But wat does she do?;
She tucks her headscarfs in her bag, dropping her head in public,
Ashamed; scared of being the misfit, awkward in her choices.
This is not a exhibition of the clashes of beliefs
It’s a denouncement of a theft
A robbery of my voice, my desire.
A robbery of my chance to pass on what I was taught as a girl
..Modesty. Sacredness of self. Strength from within.