Somali Lesbians Rule in Ottawa

Sometimes I feel like such a hypocrite. As I sit on the OC Transpo bus, heading to Hurdman Station from the Meadowlands area of Ottawa, before beginning my long trek to the West End, I noticed a pair of blonde-haired white girls in short skirts and tank tops. These two golden beauties walked in and began to chat, and at one point they kissed, obviously to the stares of everyone on the bus. Brave girls, I thought, and although I tried not to stare at their lovely forms, I failed miserably. I love the female body in all its forms and splendor, that's my one guilty pleasure.

It's summertime and in this part of Ontario, the blazing heat caught everyone by surprise. There are times when I wish I could walk around in something skimpy like these girls, but as a Muslim woman from Somalia, that is something I can never do. Even the appearance of impropriety is considered shameful in Somali culture, and as a proud Somali woman, I try to uphold my culture and heritage as best I can.

My name is Manal Abdullah and I have a story to share with you, dear reader. If you saw me walking down the street, what would you think of me? A tall, curvy, dark-skinned woman in a long black robe and purple hijab. Would you think I'm oppressed, what most westerners think of women from Islamic countries? Would you think I'm conservative, shy or repressed? Perhaps, perhaps not. If you assumed any of the above, you'd be dead wrong, dear reader.

I was born in the City of Calgary, Alberta, on November 9, 1989. My parents, Abu and Sagal Abdullah moved to Canada from their hometown of Mogadishu, Somalia, in 1987. I consider myself a proud Somali-Canadian. I hold a bachelor's degree in business from the University of Calgary and recently earned a Master's degree in economics from Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I work for the Canadian Revenue Agency as an auditor. I live in a three-bedroom condo in Barrhaven. I make good money, and I believe in taking care of myself. Do I sound like a hapless, oppressed and submissive half-wit trapped by religion and culture to you?

I live my life my way, and I believe in being true to myself. I am a lesbian. A woman who loves women. A gay woman. A queer chick. A dyke. I know that I am not the only Muslim lesbian out there but I am one of a few "out" lesbians in the Muslim world. Unfortunately, this has led to estrangement from my family. My older brother Yassin curses the day I was born, and my parents and I no longer speak. That's part of the reason why I moved from Alberta to Ontario. I wanted to be away from the web of negativity surrounding my relations. I wanted to be finally free of them. I wanted to make my life, well, mine. There's always a price to pay for freedom.

My first relationship occurred during my first year of university. I met Amal "Amy" Khalid while walking through the library at the University of Calgary. The tall, slender and absolutely stunning young Yemeni woman stole my heart the moment our eyes met. Even though she was a conservatively dressed, hijab-wearing Muslim sister, the moment I gazed into Amal's eyes, I knew she was like me. A woman who loves women. I approached her, and that smile of hers melted my heart. Yeah, I wanted her.

Amal and I embarked on a passionate, secretive relationship. We were constantly together, and were well-known to each other's friends and respective families. I remember making love to her, and waking up in her arms. I live at an off-campus apartment and Amal was constantly over, visiting me at least three times a week. We took precautions, but as had been said before, you can't fool all the people all the time.

One day during my senior year at the University of Calgary, my parents came to visit me....and caught Amal and I in bed together. Thus began my coming out process as a young Muslim lesbian, and my attempts at making it into this world as best I can. My family told me that what Amal and I were doing was sinful before Allah, and went against everything that the prophet Mohammed, founder of Islam, preached about morality, natural law and women's place in the world.

My own mother told me what I was doing was unnatural, and that when I died, the Djinn would claim my soul and drag me into the everlasting fires of Hell. I told her that I didn't choose to be a lesbian, that I wrestled with my Muslim faith and emerging lesbian feelings, and I came to the conclusion that I had to accept myself, lest I go crazy or turn self-destructive. You are cursed, my mother said, and kicked me out of the house. For the longest time, I actually believed her.

Amal and I stopped seeing each other, and the following semester, I heard that she transferred to the University of Montreal. The woman I considered my first love moved all the way to Quebec to be away from me. Nice, huh? I moved to Ottawa, Ontario, and started a new life. I worked two jobs, got a small place on Bronson Avenue near the Carleton University campus, and went back to school for my Master's degree. One way or another, I was determined to make it. And you know what? I did.

I am dating someone new these days, Debra Clayborn. Tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, Debra is originally from the town of Red Deer, Alberta. Deb came to Ottawa to get away from her ultra-religious Evangelical Christian parents who disowned her after she came out as a lesbian. These days, Deb studies police foundations at Algonquin College and works as a security guard at a hospital. We met at the Bayshore Mall in Ottawa and totally clicked. Yup, I'm the hijab-wearing, dark-skinned Somali Muslim chick with the gorgeous blonde girlfriend. And you know what? We're actually quite happy together.

Finally, the bus stops near my place and I walk to my condo. It's raining outside and I'm glad to be home. I ride the elevator and finally stop in front of my door. As I fumble with the keys, the door swings open. Hi babe, Deb hollers, and greets me with a hug and kiss. I smile and kiss her back. Deb is really affectionate today, running her hands all over me. I laugh as Deb's hands grasp my big butt cheeks and squeeze them. Someone's happy, I whisper into her ear.

Deb is practically glowing, and soon tells me why. I'm graduating from my program at Algonquin College and I got promoted to supervisor at work, Deb squeals, and I happily kiss her and hug her. Like most butch women, Deb is somewhat reserved and not much of a squealer. Yet she's squealing with happiness. We should celebrate, I whisper into her ear, and the naughty gleam in Deb's pale eyes tells me she feels the same way.

Thus I found myself lying on the living room carpet, my long skirt hiked up, my thick legs spread, as Deb gave my hairy pussy a good licking. Hell yeah, I whispered, moaning in pleasure as Deb munched on my cunt. Deb inserted her entire fist in my asshole once, after tying up my hands and feet. Even though Deb used a lot of lubricant on my anus before working her fingers there one at a time, her hand felt huge inside my asshole. It was an intense experience and although it was fun, it's not something I care to try again.

Yeah, Deb is one freaky broad but that's why I love her. After eating my pussy, my sexy redneck girlfriend put me on all fours and spanked my thick Somali ass cheeks for a good while, making them sting while I squealed in appreciation. After spanking me, Deb spread my ass cheeks wide open and began licking my sweaty asshole gleefully. Lucky for her I showered at the gym after work, eh? Deb stuck her tongue down my asshole, and I moaned in pleasure, loving the feel of her slick tongue in my nether regions.

Give me that Somali booty, Deb laughed, before sticking her fingers up my asshole. I licked my lips in appreciation, and rocked back against her, grinding my bum against Deb's face. Fuck me up the ass, I begged Deb, and she obliged me by donning her pink strap-on dildo, dipping it into some Aloe cream and placing it against my asshole. Now I fuck you my sweet Somali bitch, Deb whispered into my ear as she pushed the dildo inside of me.

Yes, I cried out as Deb pushed me down hard, pressing my face against the carpeted floor and gripped my wide hips tightly. With a firm thrust Deb slid her dildo into my asshole. I licked my lips and tried not to scream. There's nothing I love more than anal sex. Deb gave it to me roughly, just the way I like it. Yes, there are lesbians out there who like rough sex. It's not all soft and romantic. Take it you filthy cunt, Deb screamed, smacking my ass real hard, and yanking my hijab off my head while fucking me. Hard and fast Deb rammed into me, and I loved every minute of it. Finally, it proved to be too much and I begged for mercy. Enough, I squealed, tears in my eyes. Deb laughed, and pulled the dildo out of my ass.

Looking up at my sexy blonde-haired white goddess, I noted with disgust that the pink strap-on dildo, which Deb just used on me had some brown, ahem, specks on it. Deb shrugged and tossed the dildo aside, then pulled me to my feet. Gently she took my face in her hands and kissed me. My turn, Deb said, and lay on the floor, anxiously waiting for me. Grinning, I got between her legs and began licking her blonde cunt, loving the taste of white pussy on my tongue.

I licked and fingered Deb's pussy, and even used one of my dildos on her. Putting my sexy girlfriend on all fours, I kissed her pert, sexy ass and then slid a finger into her asshole. Stick it inside my ass, Deb pleaded, and I lubricated her hole before working my dildo into her ass. Sweet, Deb sighed as I began fucking her ass with the dildo. Meanwhile I worked two fingers inside my sexy butch girlfriend's pussy, then a third. I can take more, Deb pleaded, and I obliged her. Soon I had my entire fist inside Deb's cunt. Are butch girls tough or what?

I buried the dildo deep inside Deb's asshole and fisted her cunt, delighting in her screams of pleasure mixed with deliciously hot pain. Go harder damn it, Deb squealed, and I was more than happy to oblige her. I went to town on her, totally dominating her. I worked my fist as deep as it would go inside Deb's cunt and twisted the dildo inside her asshole. Like the tough and resilient butch lesbian that she is, Deb gritted her teeth, trying to tough it out. I wanted to make her scream, to make her my bitch.

I smacked Deb hard across the face, and smiled when my beautiful blonde girlfriend blinked in surprise. Suddenly, I pulled my fist out of Deb's cunt and grabbed her by the throat, choking her. Ah, Deb whimpered, uncertainty in her voice. Grinning wickedly, I smacked her face again and released her throat. As Deb sighed in relief, I plunged my fist right back into her cunt. Bet my favorite butch gal wasn't expecting that, eh?

As Deb gasped in surprise mixed with pain, I buried the dildo in her asshole and left it there. I kissed Deb full and deep, and twisted my fist inside her cunt. Deb's eyes widened in shock and pain, but I silenced her scream. I didn't let her go until I saw tears in her lovely blue eyes. Only then did I release her, and slowly pulled my fist out of Deb's now gaping cunt hole. Give me back my dildo, I told Deb. Groaning with effort, Deb squeezed the dildo out of her now stretched out asshole, farting loudly along the way. We both laughed, and kissed again.

For a long time, Deb and I lay there, cuddling and enjoying each other's company. I love Deb, and we're doing quite well together. We're just a couple of Alberta-born lesbians, albeit women from very different backgrounds, living together in Ottawa, Ontario. So what if Deb is white and Christian and I'm Northeast African and Muslim? Regardless of race, religion or culture, love will almost always find a way. Don't believe it? Just look at Deb and I. People stare when we walk around town together, holding hands and showing our love to the world. Let them stare. We're doing our own thing. That's it, that's all. Peace.