Mariam and Elijah in Ottawa

I try hard to be the pious and respectful, Hijab-wearing and Koran-quoting Muslim sister that my parents, Ahmed and Ayaan Mohammed expect me to be, but I kind of suck at it. Partly because I love to suck dick. My name is Mariam Mohammed and I'm a young Black Muslim woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Lately, I've been suffocating under the burdens of my Islamic faith, Somali culture and the iron-clad rules of tradition. Something had to give. And the results stunned me. Man have I got a story for you today, dear reader.

A little over a month ago, I met this guy named Elijah Morrison. A six-foot-tall, lean and athletic, ruggedly good-looking brother of Jamaican descent who studies criminal justice at the University of Ottawa. I was walking through the Rideau Center and stopped to buy some food at the newly renovated food court downstairs by the escalators when a fine-looking, well-dressed brother sat at the table near mine, and smiled at me. Hello beautiful, he said, nodding at me while sipping on a Pepsi.

I looked the brother up and down. Definitely not Somali, I thought, considering his ebony skin tone, roughly handsome features, kinky hair and overall strongly built body. Clad in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants with a black tie, the guy looked good. I like a man who dresses neatly, and the fools walking around Ottawa with their pants hanging low don't impress me much. The brother's boldness surprised me, but I kind of liked it.

Now, most women wouldn't appreciate being approached this way because they find it annoying or degrading or whatever. Me? I'm a Hijabi. As a female wearing the Hijab, I NEVER get flirted with or hollered at. I swear, people forget that I'm a female, and have a sexual identity, because of my cultural outfits. I wear a Hijab on my damn head, not a frigging halo! I smiled back at the brother and looked at his plate. That looks yummy, I said, eyeing the plate of Chinese food. The brother smiled, and introduced himself as Elijah.

From his thick accent, I could tell that he was a newcomer and I was proven right when Elijah revealed to me that he just moved to Ontario from his hometown of Saint Catherine, somewhere on the island of Jamaica. Thus, Elijah Morrison and I met, and as it turns out, we had a lot in common. Sure, he's a Christian guy and I'm a Muslim woman but underneath it all, we were a lot alike.

For starters, we were both loners. Elijah desperately missed his parents back on the island of Jamaica, and I desperately wished my folks would stay the fuck out of my life. I swear I can't fart without having them find out, I swear! I wanted to be on my own, do my own thing, and live my life. My parents expect me to live in Canada as though we were still in Somalia. In Somalia, females either stay at home raising the family or head to the local Masjid, otherwise they stay out of public life. I don't want to do that shit. I want to do my own thing.

Elijah Morrison and I exchanged numbers that day at the Rideau Center, and I added him on Facebook a day later. That's how it all began, ladies and gentlemen. The relationship that changed my life. Elijah and I began talking on the phone a lot, and then began seeing each other. On our first outing, Elijah took me to the Silver City movie theater in the east end of Ottawa, and we watched a horror movie, Dracula Untold. Not big on horror movies but this one was fun.

Only thing I didn't like about the movie is the portrayal of Turkish Muslim warriors as cruel and dull, while the Romanians, especially Dracula and his family, were portrayed as stalwart. Give me a break, folks. I did like the vampire battles at the end of the movie, though. Definitely better than what I saw in the Twilight films, that's for damn sure.

After the movie, Elijah took me to the Blair Mall and we ate some Chinese food, and then went for a walk. I live near Baseline Road, not far from Carleton University, which I attend. The east end isn't a place I know very well. I liked walking around with Elijah, though. I linked my arm with his, and he seemed pleased. Who am I kidding? The brother was all smiles. I also liked it when Elijah put his arm around me and held the door for me as we boarded the bus at Blair Station. We rode together till Hurdman Station, and then, we had to go our separate ways.

Good night beautiful, Elijah said, and gave me a brief hug. I nodded and smiled, ecstatic beyond belief, but trying to play it cool. I'm an emotional chick so it's not easy. I stood on my tippy toes, and planted a kiss on Elijah's full, sensual lips. That's right, the shy and presumably demure and repressed Somali chick kissed the bold, macho Jamaican guy on the lips. How do you like them apples?

That night, I went home with a big smile on my face and a song in my heart. Elijah Morrison was something else. I can honestly say that I can't get enough of this wonderful young man. When Elijah sat me down, a few days and outings later, and told me he liked me and wanted to give a relationship a shot, I didn't say yes. I SCREAMED yes! I am officially Elijah's girlfriend. We hang out together all the time, and folks at the Carleton campus see us all the time at Rooster's and in the campus library. We're an item and I am damn proud of it.

The only snag? I can't risk my parents finding out about my sweet and sinfully Elijah. I have to very careful. If they find out, there'll be hell to pay. I'm a young Somali-Canadian Muslim woman living at home, with my parents, while attending Carleton University. My parents are very strict and traditional. To explain my frequent absences, I've told them that I am involved with the Muslim Scholars Association at school. I can only hope that they don't find out about Elijah. Loving my Jamaican prince is ill-advised but I can't help myself. I am NOT giving him up. Love makes you do crazy things, you know?