Saturday, May 24, 2008

Belong... y, dudas.

assalamu alaikum,

"Don't take it personal. No matter what people say to you, don't take it personal. I't's not about you. It's about them." -Yahaira Liriano

I used to could hate me some Yahaira. I mean really couldn't stand her. She personified everything about GIRLS in general I don't like.

But that doesn't mean she isn't right.

It has been a day. My 'kids' (I am childless, thank you very much) had their 'graduation' program today. Meaning a little more than half of the morning class was promoted. To kindergarten. And the parents were so complimentary (Alhamdulillah, everything went well and no one tripped and fell off the stage). And my room mothers made sure the food went without a hitch.

You know what my problem really is? Exclusion.

I like to be included in things that catch my interest. It's fun to be a part of a group that promotes my favorite team, for instance. I'm no different from anyone else in that, I hope.

And so it surprises me that I still get heartily, heavily, truthfully and genuinely angry when I am excluded from things. I get furiously upset when I see other groups of people deliberately excluding others. This is the aspect of cliques and such that I was thinking about when I deliberately wrote the title, "I. hate. GIRLS.".

It makes me sad that I even got so angry that I wrote that. I love girls. I see myself in them. I am one. Alhamdulillah. As much as I miss my lifeline circle of guys I do adore being a girl in so many little ways. And men can be clique-ish, too. Lord knows I have seen it.

But this has been characterized as such a feminine trait, and I see it so MUCH in the little (tiny!) girls I work with, that I'm just beyond the anger to wondering. What is this really about?


Why do girls learn to be so darn clique-ish at such an early age? It's annoying. It's infuriating. And it becomes ingrained.

I wish I could exclude myself from that statement. But I've done it to others. In reaction, or hurt, or, may Allah forgive me if it's true, perhaps out of sheer ability to do so, to push the other away.


People get really really angry, sometimes, if you project what you're thinking or your motivations or your skills onto them. It's not the best habit to have.

I wish I could see evidence of people thinking of the opposite, though.
If I don't project some of my very human feelings, motives, and abilities on the people I meet, then I become pretty inconsiderate, incurious, condescending. That's a sociopath in the making, when you take it to the extreme level.


JW has not said shahadah. I don't know what to do for him. He clings to his dunyawi ways, wants to go to Vegas for his milestone birthday coming up, wants to earn a living on some definitely haraam means. The hope in my heart was so sweet and I'm just sad. Would you exchange akhira for the ability to play poker for cash? Belief can't be forced.


I was born Black and Female in the United States. Try as I may, I think my culturalization will follow me forever. When I stop and think about it, it's the little insinuations made over my lifetime, the whispers from shaitan and my background in the back of my mind- and then I'm mad about it.

Farhan is Palestinian and fair. Farhan is tall. Farhan is "hot" (my assistant's words, not mine. I was hoping he wasn't as handsome as I thought, but I'm getting to that.) This is pretty inconsequential as far as I'm concerned. That's how he is, right?

The whispers start in my mind. Why is he checking me out? Why me? Is he one of
those?, the ones who chase black girls for no good reason? Does he see my spirit, how much I rejoice in Islam, that I love kids, that I'm a bookworm, that I'm actually a little bit shy? Why me?

Then they continue. Nothing remarkable over here. He should be looking at Wilma, or Sima, they're Palestinian and beautiful. Otherwise, why would everyone tell me they're looking for an African American (never Black) brother for me?

No comments:

Post a Comment