Hijabi Girl With An Attitude

I know this shit is going to be shocking to some of you, because you've got preconceived notions about what Muslim women are like. And honestly, I don't give a shit. My name is Azeeza Amir. Born in the City of Modadishu, Somalia, and raised in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I'm twenty years old, and study in the Police Foundations program at Algonquin College. I got a story to tell you people. Why else would I be here, right? I'm here to set the record straight about some of us Somali ladies you see walking around metropolitan Ottawa, conservatively dressed and wearing the hijab. We are sexual beings just like other women. However, few of them are half as naughty as I am.

I stand five feet eight inches tall, chunky but funky, with light brown skin and long, curly Black hair. Why do I mention my hair? Because it matters to me. Most of all. I wear the hijab because I want to, not because anyone forces me to. I'm submissive to God, not Man. Most men you see walking around the Canadian capital are a bunch of fools anyway. Why would I feel submissive toward any of them? Any woman who thinks men are better just because they have an XY chromosome needs to have her skull examined. I hate the fact that everyone assumes Muslim women are submissive. If anything, I am bossy as hell. The other day I smacked my older brother Mohammed for talking back to me. I do not tolerate people disrespecting me under my own roof. Especially since Mohammed doesn't do shit all day. He's been staying with me ever since his girlfriend Rachel kicked him out. Again.

Like most Black males living in North America and Europe, Mohammed is into fat White chicks. He met Rachel at Carleton University, where he studies Criminology. They had a whirlwind romance, then she dumped his sorry ass once she found a better piece of dick. I wonder why he gets attached to these White sluts. Why doesn't he just pump them and dump them? That's all they're good for anyway. I sure hope he doesn't bring one home to marry her or some shit like that. I would simply hurl! Anyhow, enough about Mohammed's tired ass. I am going to hang out with my Moroccan girlfriend Mawiyah in the town of Orleans, Ontario. I grab the number ninety five bus at Baseline Station after finishing with my last midterm. I barely catch it because the fool driving it arrived early. He's an old, French-looking dude who likes to sing while he drives. Whatever floats his boat. I sit in the middle, and crack open this Blade comic book I'm reading. It's Blade Versus Morbius, the two most Vampire antiheroes from the Marvel Comics Universe. I'm a big fan of Blade. A strong, masculine Black man who hunts Vampires. To me, Blade is the way Vampire movies should be. I hate the Twilight series, both the books and the movies. In my day, Vampires sucked blood, not cock!

Anyhow, I was about halfway through the comic book when the ninety five bus leaving Nepean arrived at the Rideau Shopping Center. In downtown Ottawa. A lot of people got off, but some people got on. Guess who sat next to me? Simply the finest brother I've seen in a long while. Tall and fit, with dark brown skin and long hair braided into neat cornrows. He was looking really hot in a Black leather jacket over a red T-shirt and blue jeans. I tried not to inhale his masculine scent, covered up by the cheap cologne he was wearing. Oh, yeah. This dude is Haitian. I 'accidentally' nudged him in the ribs then excused myself. He looked at me, smiled, and said everything was alright. I heard a French accent in his voice. Definitely Haitian. Not straight from the Republic of Haiti, though. He sounds like a Montreal guy. There are lots of Haitians in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec.

I look at him, smile and ask him that question which every minority in Canada hears at least once a week. Where are you from? The sexy stud smiles, and tells me he's from the region of Laval, Quebec. I smile at that. I was so right. The metropolis of Montreal and the Laval area aren't too far from each other. I introduced myself as Azeeza Amir and extend my hand for him to shake. He hesitates. Like a lot of Canadians, he's used to hijab-wearing Muslim women who won't shake hands with men they aren't related to because they follow Islamic custom to the letter. Not me. Hesitantly, he shakes my hand, and introduces himself as Raul Jean-Pierre. I smile. His name sounds so Haitian. Oh, well. I do like these bad boys. Raul and I start talking, or should I say flirting. He's a second-year student at the University of Ottawa. Raul is studying Criminal Law. Wow. I happily tell him that I'm in the Police Foundations program at Algonquin College. I want to go either Carleton University or the University of Ottawa afterwards.

Raul grins, and tells me that the University of Ottawa rocks. He sounds so cocky. The guy is obviously biased because he's talking about his school. I playfully smack his arm and tell him that I heard good things about Carleton University. Supposedly, they have great programs in Criminology and Criminal Justice. All the better for a future policewoman like myself. He snickers, and tells me all the pretty ladies go to the University of Ottawa. I smile and ask him about the pretty guys. Where do they go? Raul smirks and tells me the University of Ottawa is packed with hot guys, present company included. I flash him a coy smile. This cutie is too much...Unfortunately, he gets off at Saint Laurent Station. Before he leaves, I tell him to Facebook me. He winks, and when I extend my hand for him to shake, he kisses it. Hot damn. I blushed from my ears to my toes. Yes, Black women can blush, for those of you fools who are wondering.

I can't wait to get to my friend Mawiyah's house. She's going to flip with jealousy when she hears about this guy. For as long as I've known her, the Moroccan gal has had a thing for Black guys. Especially Black guys from the Caribbean. I don't mind, because honestly I can't blame her. Black guys from the islands are mighty fine. Most of them are Christian but Mawiyah and I don't care. We go crazy for them. And since most Muslim guys in Ottawa, both Somali and Arab, ignore us Muslim sisters because they're too busy chasing fat White chicks, they can't say nothing when we date Christian guys. I'm going to log onto Facebook and search for Raul Jean-Pierre. Haitian guy from Montreal. Make that really cute, fine-bodied Haitian guy from Montreal who happens to have a seriously nice ass. I'm a sucker for a Black guy with a nice ass. I gaze longingly at his fading silhouette among the throngs of people entering the Rideau Shopping Center as the ninety five bus pulls away, heading toward the South End of Ottawa. I smile to myself. This has the makings of a fun weekend. Lustfully yours, Azeeza.