Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody Of Being Animate (MBA) 27/4/15 28/4/15 29/4/15 20/6/15: This Chocolate It’s complicated they say, the world is still learning about this ebony chocolate covered skin, your still learning it is okay, your skin is beauty, this world is not … Continue reading

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody Of Being Animate (MBA)

22/12/14 – 8/1/15: She wanted me to write her a poem

This is for her, so loving, destructive, yet hero, she is better then any wonder woman,cat woman you’ve ever seen, she, has the ability to fix broken, mend emotions, smile when you can’t, she, is my hero, I promise that you can trust her, she holds loved ones dear to never betray, on her 18th birthday I watched as she blossomed into more hero, I watched as she smiled, laughed, moved and sawed into my heart, she is my weakness, my everything important you can’t have her, because she exclusively comes to my rescue, she is hero, but like nothing you have ever seen, she is beauty, brains, curvaceous S line, she is what you can never have, because, she, is mine

FH

My year 9 teacher waved at me once, I never waved back, I just watched her car drive away

Entry 2#

When I was in year 9 I was always tied down to my friends at school and my bedroom.

There was an incident that can never leave my memory. I always remember it so clearly when ever I tell others about this story, and each time my enthusiastic exclaiming is always exactly the same; Because as a child who was still learning not only about herself, how to deal with difficult situations and no confidence to boot, was tough.

This wasn’t the first time.

These two teachers were notorious for always shattering and shaming me whether it be in the classroom for everyone to hear or for my eyes and ears only.

I was siting at a corner with three of my friends with books that we had been asked to pick out of the sticker colour coated boxes.

I started reading the book I chose for the second time and the first few pages didn’t interest me at all, so I asked my friend what book she was reading and if I could read a few pages of it because I was thinking of getting another book anyway.

Turns out I passed the first chapter and I was hooked! So I made my way to swap my book for a more interesting read.

The teachers then called us back to our tables and went around asking each of us what book we had chosen.

It came to my turn and as soon I said which book I had decided on reading, right in front of the class Miss Hamilton had looked at Miss Russel and said

“are you sure she can read that..I don’t think she can” 

Right in front of everyone, then they both looked at me looked back and mind you I could hear every word they were saying and so could the whole class.

It was right at that moment that I had stopped reading all together. I remember feeling so embarrassed and dejected I didn’t even know what to do, I literally just wanted to run to the bathrooms and cry.

Since that day I have only read one book, and is in the stimulating process of reading another.

It’s a healing process.

Tima OUT.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody Of Being Animate (MBA)

16/12/14 – 18/12/14 – 22/12/14 – 27/12/14 – 8/1/15 – 10/1/15 :December Metro 15th

On the 15th of December, me, sitting across my little sister listening, laughing, she forms sentences as if voice box were stuck on auto pilot, she’s talking about happenings of a boy, and how he did her or her friend wrong, I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening, across from her, our family friend who looks annoyed about the situation, as you can imagine we were swallowed up in our own dialogue, I looked up at one point, ahead of me, I see a man, with a bike, shaved sides, long hair, but the middle tied up, I see his mouth moving, but I’m not sure what his saying, I can’t seem to make out the words, all I hear are mumbles, I look back down, Zam is still stuck on auto pilot, then I hear something, I can hear him, the man screaming ‘fucking Muslims’ as though we were one, not blood flesh and bone, not majority good, but minority bad, his attacks getting worse, he screams again, I freeze, is he talking to us, I glance, our eyes meet, I want to say something in defence, but my mouth just won’t let me speak, I froze, I was so scared of being physically attacked, even though verbal abuse scars, I become numb to some of the strangers down the train laughing at his racist slurs, I told the little ones to put their heads down, not look ahead, I told them not to reply back, I didn’t want us to be hurt over something that shouldn’t have happened to begin with, when he left the train the situation was just a blur of confusion, a train wreck of why’s, as though he decided that they are different, as though Islam was the poison of humanity, humanity doesn’t choose to become poison, media molds humanity into the chemical formula of this ridiculous science experiment, when he got off the train we looked out at him, as he met our eyes he disgustedly spat at the train, eyes sharp as though they spoke evil to us, at this point I was shaken, my body did not know how to take in this privilege of my being, I was convinced that it never happened, my state of mind intoxicated, my everything was denying this abuse, once again I became numb, at the end of the day, I couldn’t help but feel I experienced the majority of our nation in its true form, as centuries go by, racism is still being belted out as though, was not, can not be an offence, privilege knowing they can get away, at the end of the day they can, at the end of the day I’m still part of the minority good, at the end of the day privilege is evident, at the end of the day, no one was there for us, at the end of the day we’ll try to shake this movie cut, try to move on as usual, at the end of the day, month, year, centuries, waiting for society to become less ignorant, when will they change, when will we stop feeling like the problem, when will they stop making us the problem, we the hunted, as if we weren’t already being stripped of morality, rights amounting to pigmentation, this black that stains history’s, earth becoming the hunting ground of our greatest movie cut yet, big, bold, over played, overexposed, overseen, hope, for humanity.

FH – Fatma Hussein.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody Of Being Animate (MBA)

13/12/14: Face To Face Passive Racism

The first time I experienced face to face passive racism, I was 19 at the back of the class room in Pam’s lecture class of community and diversity, we were having in-depth discussions of war-torn families, poor poverty, struggling nations of family backgrounds, I will never forgot the way she randomly selected me, the only coloured skin in the class room whom she stereotyped into something I was not, decided that this is the way in which I grew up, regardless of anything she knew about me it being my name and that was all, the way she didn’t check her self, before she went back on her words, preaches echoing loud lecture hall, do not stereotype, do not assume about others, I remember being taken back by her question, the class room silent as my peers automatically turn their heads at me, some quickly snap their necks else where, I listen as whispers fill the room, I remember wanting to hide somewhere, anywhere, to cover my ears, shut my eyes to get me away, I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to voice something so ignorant, she had asked me whether a picture of two black boys playing in mud, barefoot, in what looked like poverty inhabited, saying “are you sure you don’t represent with this?” begging “are you sure?” tilting her head to one side as though asking the first time wasn’t insulting enough, I remember looking at her in a hot-pot of emotions, majority being embarrassment, anger, and why is this happening to me as I pressed my lips together to respond “yes I’m sure”, the silence she gave when I had given her an unsatisfying answer, as though she was looking forward to me responding “yes”, I wish I had responded differently, I wish I wasn’t so struck at ignorance is bliss, so I could have given her a calculated don’t ever ask such stupid questions which generalize minority, I wish I said something more absolute something more concrete, something to make my ancestry proud of, something that would stop this marginalized ignorance, anything, so she knows, never, to repeat, the same, mistake, again.

FH – Fatma Hussein.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody Of Being Animate (MBA)
16/09/2014: Black Beauty

Sometimes I feel like we are stuck in this orbiting, we dismiss change as unattainable, we compare to unintentionally despair, we say articulate they say media force-fed, we say black and beautiful they say pretty for a black girl, we say black comes in all shades of creamy delight they say bitter-sweet backhand compliments, we say equality majority say we are full, we say love comes in the colours of the rainbow they say one night stand to brag, we say strong-willed, passionate, confident, driven, African mediator for the too jagged to speech they say racist, we say how they say what about us, we say when you’ve lived in a world which seems to not acknowledge, still have active followers of injustice, preach intelligence of active mind but still being fed opinionated fact fiction is just beyond comprehension, having unstable mentality doubt of what’s beautiful without knowing what inner beauty really looks like, being brainwashed by visuals of both animate and printed to showcase this is the standard of beauty, this is what beauty looks like, see how pale, see how bright, see how beautiful, do you see how sad our fellow minority have fallen, despite knowing how beautiful their beauty too is, don’t know, that we are the absorption of light, we are not one shade but a range of beauty, we are not to be used but to be cherished, keep safe your beautiful dark skin, don’t let slander become of what’s fictionally mediated, black is the absorption of light

FH – Fatma Hussein

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody of Being Animate (MBA)
01/10/2014: In regards to a status made by an acquaintance & more

It’s almost funny, the way you chose to form what you call opinion without taking under considering of what we all call ethical morality, how you can bluntly narrate what you have no capacity to comprehend, the audacity to take a religion of peace and generalize its beliefs as simple as an opinion so you say, we, all gods creations, it cut deep like a blunt dagger of injustice when statements on baseless facts, based on what the media advocates for you to coward to understand the truth, you, will never understand the marvel of hijab frame our face, the way the burqa represents modesty for herself and not for another, the way Islam preaches what is beautifully subscribed in the Quran, you don’t want to understand, instead you take us like we are dehumanized, group minority and point fingers to justify, this is what it has become, this is what it has resorted to, having to always stand on our two feet to elaborate for the too ignorant, like being pushed down the cliff without any warning, I don’t remember the last time a person not of colour had to exclaim why the colour of their skin is committing sin, why do we have to justify for the minority, we don’t represent what you have conjured up on your own, we represent with the DNA that flows through our bodies, band aid with band-aids to temerity heal the hurt and anger, we, are the canal of ancestry and mother tongues, so the next time you post a status acquaintance, of such caliber, DON’T

FH – Fatma Hussein

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody of Being Animate (MBA)
09/11/14 – 13/11/14 – 25/11/14 – ‘Black Privilege’

This girl, who said “I wish I was black cause you know blacks can get away with racist jokes”, then prompted to say that we who have been both emotionally and physically wounded by history events trying to rewrite our history, that we have, and misused our ‘black privilege’; now, there are a few things that she said which I had overlooked because why, why brace my vocal for you who thinks not of my being but of how deep my melanin travels, but when she dared to use ‘black privilege’ I took a moment gathered my thoughts and my smart phone to educate her racist considering self down, let me tell you about black privilege, black privilege is being the only shadow in the class room, its being called ghetto, its being called Africa in the tone of go back to your country and take your illness with you, regardless of whom you are, both human and free, it doesn’t matter because to them your still black and your still Africa, black privilege is being racially profiled and associated with all the bad, its being black and African and nothing else, its walking into an in-closed space and watching how quick your hands move and always being conscious, its being stereotyped into one category, its being conscious of this black that plagues you, black privilege is all eyes on you, its wanting to fit into society, its wanting to be an equal without second guessing otherwise, black privilege is anything but misused, its nonsensical that you chose to publicly feed social media with what the media has spoon fed into society, nothing factual based, just fictional narrative which harms the mental state of a being, its blasphemy that we still have to live with in-just privilege, my people demand this freedom that we deserve, we demand this right, this is our black privilege, in this era, which is where and why we choose to fight.

FH – Fatma Hussin

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody of Being Animate (MBA)
13/1/15 – Rita You Stupid

To Rita Panahi, this is my unapologetic catharsis, for every graphic marginalization written, for each column, each publication for you to keep your day job, speeching this oppression that my religion keeps me hostage, show me, where is this oppressed Muslim you scribble that doesn’t live in a third world country, not saying its plausible, but it sure as hell isn’t justified for every Muslim in your horizons, we’re not every Muslim girl you write about, we dare to be called human, emotions, boiling towards your unintelligent reasoning of all the crap you thought sounded informative on Sunrise, your exactly the kind of people that us Muslims pray for, our religion is not something for you to critic, it isn’t something for you to knit pick and twist, our religion is faith binding, its connecting with god to guide us so we don’t end up as ignorant as you, you, who thinks narrow minded, marginalizing the minority because of a majority, you, who believes, that comparing happens in Syria is relevant or equivalent to happenings in our backyards, I’ve heard Islam recycled with the word terrorist too many times, these words used for beasts, inhuman, dehumanized, I will not apologize for the way I feel, they need to know that not all Muslims are capable of beastly attacks of the innocent, they need to understand we are the innocent, we survive all that the media shackles on our chains, life chambers only they have the power to destroy, staining our daily lives effortlessly, the media is the reason I don’t feel safe riding the train, the reason walking out my door feels like hunting season, its numbing to know our world is slowly crumbling with injustice so strong, for awhile now I’ve felt just about done as Lupe, feels like unsolicited, existing, in this, tormenting democracy of the apartheid, when will injustice stop having a colour, a religion to hide behind.

FH – Fatma Hussein.