A Somali Princess Runs This Town

A lot of things have been said about Hijab-wearing Muslim girls like myself. Often, the people talking about us don't even know us like that. You've got no idea how much that irks me, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Nabeela Ahmed and I'm a young woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I recently graduated from Carleton University with a bachelor's degree in Criminology. I want to become a police officer eventually, but given my religion, gender and ethnicity it's not going to be easy.

In preparation for that, I work for the Ontario Ministry of Criminal Justice as a prison guard. Some of my co-workers prefer to be called corrections officers, but I like the name prison guard. It's brutal and efficient, straight to the point and mean, kind of like me. As I've said before, people make assumptions when they see me. I'm five-foot-nine, curvy, with light brown skin, curly black hair and golden brown eyes. My family is a blend of ethnicities including Somali, Yemeni and Sudanese. I guess that's why I look so...exotic, as I've often been called. Don't assume that I'm soft and sweet, and I won't kick your ass. Deal?

Anyhow, back to the story. Working in a prison as a young woman. What could have possessed me to take on a task like that? Let's face it, the job has a bad reputation. It's not the easiest job in the world no matter what color or gender you happen to be. If, like me, you happen to be both a visible minority and a religious minority, you've become the target of every bigot in the facility. There's a high turnover rate among fresh recruits of the O.M.C.J. and there's a reason for that. Most new hires wash out within the first year. I've decided that this isn't going to happen to me.

I was born in the town of Mogadishu, Somalia, to a Somali mother and Yemeni father. Three months after my birth my parents, Bilal and Amina Ahmed moved to Ontario, Canada, as refugee claimants. Eventually their claim was accepted by the Canadian government, and they settled in this wonderful country. In many ways, Canada is all that I've ever known but since I wasn't born here, I will always be the foreigner, the other. Hell, even if I were born here, my skin color would forever mark me as different. A lot of visible minorities try to shed their 'otherness' to accommodate the white folks and try to assimilate. Me? I don't believe in that shit. I am proud of my dark skin, my full lips, my curves, and my big butt. And I rock my Hijab like only a true Somali woman can. The racists in Ottawa and elsewhere in the vastness of Canada aren't going to bend or break me. You heard it here first.

The other corrections officers at the prison where I work, for the most part, they're okay to work with. There's Bernie, a stocky, dark-haired dude who's half Native and half Irish, and he's the biggest asshole on the crew. Mohammed Sharif, the only Arab officer among us, is a cool guy. He showed me the ropes during my first week. My immediate supervisor Anderson Denton is basically an okay guy, an older white dude with silver hair and thick nerdy glasses. Bianca Woodsman, a tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed, butch-looking white chick is the meanest person in the facility. She likes to mess with people's heads but stays away from me.

There's only one way to deal with mean women at the workplace. You've got to show them who's boss. White women like Bianca are used to having their way by virtue of their color and the position it affords them in western society. I put an end to that toot sweet. I told her that I'd cut her face if she ever insulted my race or religion. Carmel Stone is the only other black woman on the crew and she's a devout Orthodox Christian from the island of Jamaica. We don't get along because she thinks all Muslims are potential terrorists. Carmel is having an affair with either Bernie or Anderson. One of the two, or perhaps both, since she's such a slut. I can't stand Carmel. She's one of those black women who thinks if it ain't white it ain't right. More power to her, but I don't ride that bike.

Did I forget anyone? Oh, yeah. My bad. I almost forgot about our dear evening supervisor Troy Barnes, a tall black guy from Detroit, Michigan, who emigrated to Ontario with his family a decade ago. He is the only black male officer on the crew. Dude is very handsome and has a Law degree from the University of Michigan. Why he doesn't get himself a better job, I'll never know. I don't usually date guys who aren't Muslim but if I did, Troy would be the one. The guy is sexy as hell. Sadly, he's not into sisters. He's married to some white lady named Deirdre whom I met at the last Christmas Party. Also, I am reasonably certain that he's banging Bianca. I know Bianca's a closet racist bitch but I guess she makes an exception for burly black guys with big dicks. The voice of reason at work is Antonio Hernandez, a tall, dark-haired and bronze-skinned Hispanic dude from El Salvador. He's the only person on the crew I consider a true friend. Antonio is married to a black lady named Nadege Philemon, originally from the island of Haiti. They have two sons and a daughter together. I met the whole clan when he invited me over for dinner one night.

As you can see, this job of mine can be quite a handful. Would it surprise you to know that the inmates are far easier to deal with than my fellow corrections officers? I treat the inmates like they're human, and most have responded in kind. Take Ian Drake for example. He's a burly white guy with tattoos who was part of the Aryan gang when I got hired. He got injured in a fight with a rival and ended up in the infirmary. While he was recovering, I gave him my Koran to read. Ian did a complete about-face recently. One that stunned everyone in the prison.

Let's just say that Ian had a change of heart. He converted to Islam, and joined the Brotherhood of Muslims behind bars. He calls himself Ismail now. He's now friends with the very same black guys he once raged against as a racist gang member. His buddies in the Aryan gang aren't happy about it and they now want him dead. I saw all this as proof positive that Allah is real and the Word of His prophet Mohammed is sacred and true. In Islam, all men are equal regardless of color. It's only Western society in its infinite evil that promotes whiteness at the expense of other ethnicities, especially folks of African descent. And that's a damn shame.

I thank the Most High for His blessings daily, though. Guess who I ran into the other day? A certain tall, handsome Haitian brother I once butted heads with at Carleton University. I met Solomon Etienne during my freshman year in my World Religions class and we kind of clashed because he was a passionate Christian and thought that Mohammed was a false prophet. Needless to say, he got on my nerves and also pissed off a lot of Muslims. Weird as it may seems, Solomon and I ended up becoming friends. I took it upon myself to teach this heathen about the religion of peace.

The first thing I taught to Solomon Are there a lot of bad guys in Islam? Absolutely. Lots of Muslim brothers have lost their damn minds and do terrible things. The same can be said of Christians, albeit not to the same extent. There are Catholic priests in jail for sexual abuse. As a Muslim, I refuse to believe that all Catholic leaders are sexual abusers. I know that there must be good, God-fearing men among them. So why are so many Christians eager to believe that every Muslim man or woman is a terrorist? God made us good and evil. We get to choose. Shaitan can tempt us but he cannot choose for us. We have free will, and it's a gift from Allah. Slowly but surely, I changed Solomon's mind, and we also became friends. The guy is tall, dark and handsome. And he's also a brilliant scholar, having won many prizes awarded to top students in the civil engineering program at Carleton University. If only he was Muslim, that's what I would sigh about as I lay on my bed, just another sexually frustrated single Muslim sister in Ottawa.

Well, it looks like my days of singlehood are coming to an end. I saw a tall and handsome brother dressed in Islamic robes coming out of the bookstore inside the Saint Laurent Mall. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the tall young black man in the Thawb and Kufi hat was Solomon, my old Haitian buddy ( and former crush ) from my university days! I walked up to him, almost gushing with excitement. As salam alaikum, Solomon said to me, smiling. I looked into his handsome face, and grinned. Aku salam, I replied. Let's talk, Solomon said, and I nodded eagerly. We walked out of the bookstore and went to grab a bite at the food court together, and he told me about how he recently embraced Islam, and even planned on going on Haj the following summer. It's a miracle, I said, gently touching his hand.

Solomon looked at my hand on his, and told me that he had something to confess. My heart skipped a beat, and I thought he was going to tell me he was married or queer or something like that. I never meet smart and cute, nice single Muslim guys! Solomon smiled and told me that he'd had a crush on me for ages. I just never had the guts to tell you, the handsome Haitian Muslim stud said, smiling shyly. I looked at him and nodded, then tucked a stray hair strand under my hijab. I feel the same way, I said boldly, looking Solomon in the eye and letting him know how I felt. Solomon stared at me, stunned. In a very un-pious yet sweet manner, I leaned closer and planted a kiss on his lips. Sweet lips you got here, I said, ignoring the fact that everyone inside the Rideau mall food court was staring at us.

Right back at you, Solomon said, flashing that fearless smile I knew so damn well. And that's how it began, ladies and gentlemen. My romance with Solomon "Suleiman" Etienne, the only Haitian Muslim guy I know. I must say, since he came back into my life, I've never been happier. We've been going to movies and restaurants together, spending time together and enjoying each other's company. Solomon is handsome, sexy, educated and a really cool guy. Man am I glad I snatched him up before anyone else did! As my western friends would say, Allah works in mysterious ways. Who would have thought that the Christian guy who infuriated me so much would turn out to be the handsome and devoted Muslim brother I was destined to marry? That's a story for another time, dear reader. I really must get going. Solomon is waiting for me at the Silver City movie theater. We're watching The Hobbit!