The hair that falls over my shoulders
like dusk
on a summer’s eve

is not falling for you.

The yellow and orange
flowers blooming wide
on the diklo that covers
the falling tide

are not
tied for you.

Skirt swinging wide
I glide past your
tumbled morals,

your oppressive stares
and
outright glares.

I am not apologizing
to you.

I will not apologize
for being stigmatized.

These braids hanging
like heavy heat in
the summer air

are not hanging for you.

Though my ancestors did.

Hung like dry husks
on the autumn wind.

Hung like rabbits on
a fence

left out to dry.

I will not be ashamed
of this wide nose,
these motherly hips
foreign words
that tumble off my lips

and fall at your feet.

I will not uncover my
self or get undressed
because you say
I am

oppressed.

This diklo is not a hijab
is not a titchel
is not a hippie boho
hand-me-down
statement

of being cool
before being cool
was even

cool.

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