The Inner Struggle…

Often times we have difficulty in trying to decipher to who we are. I’ve come to the realization that you never truly come to a conclusion. We are an evolving people who are far more complex that a string of sentence that try to define us. There is the person who we want to be, the person we are afraid to admit that we currently are, and the person that we are trying to run away from being.

I fall under a lot of different categories and identify with a number of values, experiences, and opinions. On the surface, I am a black, Muslim woman. I am an American-Nigerian hijabi. A Texas Tech University Alumni, born and raised on the South side of Houston who secretly loves sweet tea, chopped and screwed, slabs and swanging, grills(gold ones with lots of diamonds), and dreads. I also have a slight obsession with bow ties, glorious beards, men in suits, people who speak proper English, and higher education.

I love turbans on hijabis, I think my collar bone is the most beautiful thing on my body and sometimes I want to share it with the world, I love skinny jeans but don’t own a single pair, and would rock a crop top every single day if I could (I’m working on the abs). I love being “woke” and staying aware of what is going on in the world, but I hate watching the news. I enjoy trap music but I cannot stand the ignorance that it spews(it’s a constant struggle with the inner hood rat inside of me).

I want to give Dawah about Islam but I don’t like discussing religion because it can become heated and turn into something so much worse, but I want to share the beautiful religion that Islam is. I believe that Arabic is the most beautiful language on the face if the earth, but I’m so lazy when it comes to learning it and memorizing the Quran. My husband says I make up a bunch of different excuses, but I know it’s because I would feel obligated to give up music. The more woke and religious I become, the more my inner hood rat dies.

I am lazy with learning Arabic because I feel guilty that I am not learning Yoruba, my father and husbands native tongue. I feel guilty picking up the Quran because I’m not picking up my text book to finish this graduate course that I have an incomplete in.

I guess the question is, how do you know which aspect to influence you in each moment? How do you know which part to give up and which part to give in to?

These are my inner struggles. I want to be religious and woke. But there are many moral conversations to be had with yourself in making this decision.

Can I be a hijabi that walks around with an ankara turban on her head, nose pierced, a grill on her lower teeth, in a black and white striped suit, with dhikr beads around her neck, a prayer rug under her arm, a baby on her hip with his afro blowing in the wind, jays on her feet, an Infinity FX 35 in the driveway and a candy apple green slab with spinners next to it for the weekends, sipping on an Arnold Palmer, with multiple degrees, red lips with a tint of poetry, smelling of incense and Chanel, fluent in Arabic and Chinese, changing the world, crushing one stereotype at a time?


If I could be who I wanted to be, I think that is who I would be. Or closest visions of myself that I would want to see today. For now, I am going to return to packing so I can make some of these things a possibility.



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