I don't want to be a lesbian but I might not have a choice. What am I going to do? I feel like I don't know anything anymore. My name is Halima Hussein and I am a young Black woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. If you saw me walking around wearing my long skirt and hijab, with my Koran tucked under my arm, you'd assume I was just another Muslim gal living in the Capital. And you'd be wrong. I'm not your average ordinary Muslim chick. Hell, I'm not your average ordinary anything. I am only me.
Three months ago my parents, Abdullah and Fatima Hussein of Orleans, Ontario, kicked me out after finding out that I am a lesbian. They found my blog, where I expose my innermost thoughts under the moniker SingleSomaliDyke1989. Who knew that my computer illiterate parents would follow the link I posted on my Twitter and find my little online lair? Damn. When it rains it frigging pours, eh? Life hasn't been the same since that day, as you can imagine. I went to stay at my friend Amina Khalid's house. She lives alone in an apartment near Baseline Road and studies economics at the University of Ottawa. We've been friends for a long time and she's always had my back.
After getting my bearings, I began to try to make it in the world as best I could. I got myself a job working as a cashier at Wal-Mart and continued going to school. I'm in my third year at Carleton University, where I study criminology. After three weeks together, Amina and I were honestly starting to get on each other's nerves. Sharing a one-bedroom apartment can test even the strongest of friendships. You know us females and our need for our space. That's why I moved into a one-bedroom apartment in the Overbrook area.
Vanier is by far the cheapest area of metropolitan Ottawa so I figured I'd stay there for a bit. Slowly, I began rebuilding my life. Job? Check. Apartment? Check. Still in school? Definitely. Still confused about my sexuality? Nope, not really. I am one hundred percent sure that I am a lesbian. I just don't want to be a dyke. I'm a Muslim woman, dammit. Being a lesbian and a Muslim don't fly where I come from! Lucky for me I was born and raised in Canada. Had I been living in Somalia I would be a dead woman. In Islamic countries it's not okay to be gay, lesbian or bisexual. I've heard stories about gay Somali men and lesbians getting stoned by angry crowds in the streets of Mogadishu. As much as I love my Somali people we're not really a tolerant bunch. I don't know who's more persecuted in Somali communities, the gays and lesbians or the growing Somali Christian minority. It's not easy to be me, for real.
Honestly, I tried my best to forget about my forbidden sexual feelings for women. Being a Somali lesbian at Carleton University isn't easy. Everywhere I look I see hot women. Tall, flirty white girls with blonde hair and blue eyes clad in tank tops and miniskirts, defying the cold September weather. Big-booty Jamaican girls in booty shorts and sweatshirts, strutting their stuff up and down the quads. Nerdy Asian girls with doe-like eyes and slender bodies. Arab girls who wore their hijabs, tight shirts and super-tight jeans that showed off their curvy forms. Oh my Gosh, how's a Muslim lesbian like me supposed to get any studying done? Temptation is everywhere I frigging look!
Yeah, I decided to focus on school and work and forget about all things related to my emerging lesbianism. It wasn't easy. Especially after I met a unicorn. Remember what I said about LGBT Somalis and Somali Christians being the most persecuted group among my people? I wasn't kidding about that. One day, while waiting for a bus at the Rideau Shopping Center, I saw a really pretty young Black woman. you should have seen her. A vision of beauty, for real! Almost six feet tall and absolutely sexy, with a curvy body, thick legs and a big round ass. With her caramel skin, long curly Black hair and almond-shaped golden brown eyes, she was something else. Hot tamale, I liked what I saw!
I'm only five-foot-three, and I'm mad short with no tits and no ass, though I'm told I've got a pretty face. I'm really into tall, thick girls with big butts. The exact opposite of me attracts me. I had to check out this gorgeous gal, and I did so in the discrete manner of lesbians everywhere. I must have gawked without noticing it because she looked at me and smiled coyly. Once our eyes met, and my heart skipped a beat, I knew I was mesmerized. And there was a strong chance this broad might be a member of the same club I so reluctantly join. The Global Sisterhood of Women Who Love Women. I ended up sitting next to Miss Pretty on this crowded bus leaving downtown for Vanier. I thought she was Somali judging by her features but once I saw the silver cross hanging around her neck, I assumed she was Ethiopian or Eritrean or something. Imagine my surprise when she addressed me in Somali and asked me how I was doing. What the fuck?
The beautiful young woman smiled and introduced herself as Maryam Ibrahim. Hello sister, she said evenly. I glared at her. A Somali chick wearing a cross. What the fuck? As if she could read my mind, Maryam told me she was indeed Somali and a Christian. I'm Alia, I said, hesitantly shaking her hand. Understand that among my people, tolerance for sexual minorities and religious minorities doesn't exist. In Somalia, if you're not Muslim, your life is forfeit. We live under Islamic law. Any Somali man or Somali woman who leaves Islam for another religion must be killed according to Sharia Law. The punishment for Apostasy is an important part of the noble Koran, all Muslims know this.
I had so many questions for Maryam Ibrahim. Even though we're in Canada, lots of Muslims are insane enough to go after ex-Muslims who join the ranks of Christianity. Why was Maryam so bold about her faith? Also, I was also burning to ask her if she was...like me, a woman who loves women? Add me on Facebook, she said, gently touching my shoulder as she got off on Montreal Road. I watched her go. Damn, that ass of hers looked hot. I pulled out my phone and searched her online. I quickly found her, and sent her a friend request on Facebook. Imagine my surprise when she added me five minutes later. I got off the bus two stops after my place but I wasn't mad. I was excited about the pretty new gal I just met.