Yes, She Is Oppressed


Poem by guest writer Strivin’ Muslimah.

Yes, She Is Oppressed

Strivin’ Muslimah

Oppression, they told her,
Oppression, they painted her,
Oppression, they labeled her —
That’s why she doesn’t do booze
Or get into the boyfriend biz —
It’s what her scarf symbolizes;
They called her oppressed.

They didn’t really know,
Giving the chance for her to show
That she shines with color,
Yet they called her oppressed.

A train of cloth waving,
Covering her untouched beauty,
No cage but the cage she’s put sin within,
Rights and respect she right-handedly received,
Don’t they see her status, yet they called her oppressed?

Her one man watches with loving eyes,
His attention at the grace, a beauty free from lies,
Indeed, calling “sweetheart, babe, and honey bun,” too,
Then an occasional “I love you, beau” —
What pure and harmonious love; surely not oppression.

Soft, silk, cotton,
Dark, pale, hue,
Respect, status, treasure,
Freedom —

All that her piece of cloth gave her.
Such peace and humility, such love and comfort,
Gift of her wise Giver,
If it be an oppression by love of God
Then, yes, she is oppressed.


Strivin’ Muslimah is merely one more Muslimah who’s striving to be a better person in every sense.