No, Yes...

[Zuko]

No, Yes...​

​

By Lovin' Niqaab​

​

​

No I’m not crazy,​

And yes I’m for real.​

I’m not depressed,​

And I’m not controlled.​

I’m not a fashion slave,​

Nor am I any man’s toy,​

I have my own opinions,​

And I have my own life.​

I have many friends,​

I have a personality.​

And I have my say,​

I also have a word or two,​

For those whose thinking is astray.​

I don’t care if he likes my hair,​

Nor do I care for leather pants.​

I think I’m beautiful,​

Because God don’t make trash,​

I also believe that covering myself​

Is also respecting my body and my mind.​

Just because you don’t know if my hair​

Is red or black?​

Or exactly how tight my jeans are,​

Doesn’t mean I’m not me,​

And don’t have a personality.​

Only those who I chose,​

Will see the outer me,​

And everyone one will see the inner me.​

I’ll voice my thoughts,​

And I’ll give my ideas.​

Whether you believe I have any or not.​

I speak silently,​

And not just anyone will hear my voice,​

But everyone will hear what I say,​

And what I believe in.​

I’ll walk with my head high,​

Without making a sound,​

And everyone will see me.​

My dress stops you from​

Judging me by my body or my clothes.​

And forces you to judge me​

By my thoughts and my ideas.​

Not everyone will see my face,​

But everyone will see its glow.​

And not anyone can shake my hand,​

But everyone will feel my firm hold.​

Not everyone can ask what he wants,​

But they all know what I would say.​

I have a life,​

And I’m respected everywhere I go.​

Boys don’t bug me nor do they stare.​

Because they have nothing to stare at,​

But they are forced to look at me.​

I am me,​

And when I go out I’m covered in black.​

Not a thing will show.​

Not my hands not my hair.​

But my thoughts, and my ideas will.​

And when you see me,​

You’ll laugh and stare,​

Because my hair isn’t showing.​

And you can’t see my face.​

You’ll think I’m crazy or depressed.​

But no.​

Only you are for being so ignorant.​

So there.​

​

​

​

 

[Juneda]

:sister:
masha allah nyc poem,very tri

 

[Ummu Amatullah]

Mashallah sister nice poem.Really explaining the muslim women.Hey,who cares what they say.They could laugh and tease all they want.What benefit would you get.Nothing.Why flaunt and shame yourself for their sake when they aren't the ones who created you.Sisters wear your hijab with pride and dignity don't be ashamed of the one thing that protects you from evil and fitnah.Don't prove yourself to them as long as you prove yourself in the sight of Allah(S.W.T).

 

[Pinkrose]

No, Yes!!



No, Yes...
By Lovin' Niqaab


No I’m not crazy,
And yes I’m for real.
I’m not depressed,
And I’m not controlled.
I’m not a fashion slave,
Nor am I any man’s toy,
I have my own opinions,
And I have my own life.
I have many friends,
I have a personality.
And I have my say,
I also have a word or two,
For those whose thinking is astray.
I don’t care if he likes my hair,
Nor do I care for leather pants.
I think I’m beautiful,
Because God don’t make trash,
I also believe that covering myself
Is also respecting my body and my mind.
Just because you don’t know if my hair
Is red or black?
Or exactly how tight my jeans are,
Doesn’t mean I’m not me,
And don’t have a personality.
Only those who I chose,
Will see the outer me,
And everyone one will see the inner me.
I’ll voice my thoughts,
And I’ll give my ideas.
Whether you believe I have any or not.
I speak silently,
And not just anyone will hear my voice,
But everyone will hear what I say,
And what I believe in.
I’ll walk with my head high,
Without making a sound,
And everyone will see me.
My dress stops you from
Judging me by my body or my clothes.
And forces you to judge me
By my thoughts and my ideas.
Not everyone will see my face,
But everyone will see its glow.
And not anyone can shake my hand,
But everyone will feel my firm hold.
Not everyone can ask what he wants,
But they all know what I would say.
I have a life,
And I’m respected everywhere I go.
Boys don’t bug me nor do they stare.
Because they have nothing to stare at,
But they are forced to look at me.
I am me,
And when I go out I’m covered in black.
Not a thing will show.
Not my hands not my hair.
But my thoughts, and my ideas will.
And when you see me,
You’ll laugh and stare,
Because my hair isn’t showing.
And you can’t see my face.
You’ll think I’m crazy or depressed.
But no.
Only you are for being so ignorant.
So there.

:wilted_ro