They have always asked us a question

Judged us like a book cover

And they expect us to answer


We’ve been through harsh times

Of discrimination because of our skin

They ask us “Are you from Islam?”

And we give them angry and puzzled looks


“Islam is not a country, but my religion”

And in return, they give us confused looks

We think of it as ignorance

Even a non-educated person would know who we are


And so we go through many questions

With the same ignorance

Of who we are


Is race and religion so important?

Is that what’s supposed to make me who I am?


My exterior is different from yours,

But my interior is the same.

We can be of the same gender or sex

Yet you decided to judge me anyway


I have brown skin

Different from yours

But we both have hearts

And we both can feel pain


So, understand my hurt

When someone mistakes my religion

As a place



This was brilliant. I can't even fathom what you have had to deal with, but this poem allows me to glimpse into the window




*Snap Snap*


It's easier to ignore
It's harder to explain
It's easier to classify
It's harder to accept
It's easier to follow
It's harder to stand out
Its easier to speak
It's harder to listen
It's easier to judge
It's harder to learn
Its easier to fight
It's harder to cry
Hard to stand
Harder to try
what's wrong is easy
Whats strong is right
whats Right is

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