A Somali Hijabi Falls in Love

As salam alaikum, people. My name is Hodan Qadir, and I'm a Somali Muslim sister living in the City of Gatineau, Quebec. I'm five-foot-ten, curvy and dark-skinned, with long black hair which I almost always tuck away under my modest Hijab. Just one of thousands of pious, Hijab-wearing Somali Muslim sisters living in the Ottawa/Gatineau Metropolitan Area. You see us every day.

A lot of Somali sisters living in the vastness of Canada lead double lives, and I ought to know, because I used to be one of them. Somali sisters going out wearing the Hijab and traditional long skirts, quoting from the Holy Book, and all that, while getting freaky with random men and sometimes other women in utmost secrecy. Ah, the secret life of Muslim women!

Don't be so surprised to read about this. We're human and we have our sexual needs like everyone else. With Islam being so restrictive, Muslim women have to go to great lengths to satisfy their sexual needs. I for one am not ashamed of having such needs. I am as Mother Nature made me, and I just wish Muslims, male or female, would stop being so hypocritical when it comes to Muslim female sexuality.

Take my older brother Omar Qadir for example. The dude is the definition of a man-whore, seriously. Omar attends the University of Ottawa, and sleeps around a lot. A while ago, Omar introduced our family to his girlfriend Jennifer, a six-foot-tall, red-haired and green-eyed white chick from Toronto. Oh, and Jennifer is Jewish, by the way. They met at the University of Ottawa, and apparently, Jennifer is fascinated by all things Islamic. Our family welcomed Jennifer with open arms.

In the Islamic world, it's considered okay for Muslim men to do whatever they want without consequences while Muslim women must live under unfair double standards. If I brought home a guy to meet my parents, and he's from another religion, they would have shunned him and cursed me for wasting their time in such a manner. Yet they're okay with my brother Omar and his Jewish girlfriend. Does that sound fair to you?

A lot of Somali Muslim sisters living in Canada continue to stick to the old ways of our people. They live in places like Edmonton, Ottawa, Montreal, Toronto, Vancouver and Calgary, and follow the same way of thinking that they had while in places like Mogadishu, Puntland and Djibouti. I feel bad for my Somali sisters, seriously. They need to stand up for themselves, and seek love and happiness on their own terms, seriously!

Instead of sitting around waiting for a Somali Muslim prince to step up and rescue me, I am making things happen for myself. I'm getting my Bachelor's Degree in Applied Business from Algonquin College in a few months. I will be able to take care of my family if I have one someday. For ages I prayed for the Most High to send me a good man, and it looks like my prayers have finally been answered.

That's why I've been meeting with Trevor Pierre these past few months. I met the tall, handsome young Haitian guy while walking through Wal-Mart. Trevor approached me and we ended up exchanging numbers. I admire a man who is bold and goes for what he wants. That's Trevor in a nutshell, ladies and gentlemen. We totally clicked since that day, and we've been meeting for fun and games for a while now.

Trevor Pierre attends Carleton University, where he studies business administration, but he lives within walking distance of the Canadian Museum of Civilizations, where I happen to work. There are a lot of Haitians in the City of Gatineau, it would seem. I swear, one day, the Haitians will be one of the largest ethnic groups in Quebec, if not all of Canada. Compared to them, we Somalis are a paltry bunch, numerically speaking.

Sometimes the Haitian stud comes by my job and we have lunch together. I'm not the only Muslim sister working there, and nobody spreads rumors like Islamic people, so I've got to be careful. My parents are really conservative and I can't have them find out about Trevor and I. For it would mean a heap of trouble for me.

I hate having to sneak around when I'm meeting with Trevor, because the tall, handsome Haitian stud is hands down one of the most amazing human beings I've ever met. When Trevor holds me in his arms and kisses me, I feel more alive than ever before. When we're in the movie theater and he holds me during a scary movie scene, I feel safe and happy. Trevor knows how to treat a woman. Too bad the brother is not Muslim, eh?

Trevor and I are in love, ladies and gentlemen. The other day, I finally gave myself to the man that I love. And I don't feel diminished or sullied from having had sex with a man outside of marriage. I don't feel shameful or sinful. I feel happy, and alive, ladies and gentlemen. For I know that Trevor cares for me deeply. I recently gave Trevor a copy of my Holy Book, and he's amazed me by how fast he's reading it. Ah, my sweet Trevor. I'll make a Muslim out of him yet!

The night we made love, is one I shall never forget. Trevor had been playing rugby with some friends in Hog's Back Park and come home bruised and injured. I went to his place to surprise him, and when Trevor came home all bloody, something in me simply broke. For what woman doesn't feel bad when the man she loves is in pain?

I went to Trevor, and kissed him passionately. The Haitian stud was stunned as I pressed my body against his, and demanded that he make love to me. Trevor smiled and returned my kiss, and drew me closer. We made love passionately, as young lovers often do. I gave myself wholly to Trevor, holding absolutely nothing back.

At last, when Trevor's manhood entered my cunt, when his feverish kisses on my lips and breasts set my flesh ablaze, I cried out his name. That night, in Trevor's arms, I finally learned the true meaning of passion. I became a woman, and I am happy to say that I've chosen Trevor Pierre, the gallant young Christian gentleman from the island of Haiti, as my man. If members of the Islamic community aren't thrilled with my choices, they can go to hell. I have finally found love, and love is worth fighting for.