Saturday 12 February 2011

Buried Alive - Not So.

This is no analysis, no background paper, no article you can use.

I do not want any of these posts to be reproduced. I repeat - I DO NOT WANT ANY OF THOSE POSTS TO BE REPRODUCED.

So for those pimpled assholes you have been disrespecting my request...this is addressed to you. You know who you are.

Let's get on with it now, shall we ?

Burying alive...

I do not remember addressing that subject before, only "en passant", when I spoke of the backlash hitting Iraqi women, and the resurgence of Female Genital Mutilation, unheard of before your fucking American liberation. Yet today, there are rising cases in Iraq of female genital mutilation.

I repeat the fucking words so they can sink into your thick brains - female genital mutilation. It means mutilating female genitals. It means cutting off, excising female genitals, it means a modern democratic version of burying a woman in the Jahaliyah, in the age of Ignorance. Except this time it is not pagans who worship false statues, idols and gods who do it, this time it is conducted in the 21st century under the patronage of the United States of America, under the aegis of Liberty and Freedom.

Ram this into your fucking thick brains, because this is the Truth.

I have covered nearly everything under the sun except this one. There is always a reason. Today I understand the reason. And NOW is what matters.

When I was 12 or 13, someone wrote to me in a little school notebook : turn your scars into stars.

This has stayed with me...turning my scars into stars...because what point is there for scars if they don't illuminate like stars ?

No one genitally mutilated me : not my parents, not my family, not my culture, not my religion, not my one buried me alive either....yet I am obliged to address this issue. I feel an imperative obligation to do so.

Why ? am not sure why...all I know is I need to turn my scars into stars.

I come from a culture that buried women buried little girls alive, as a form of sacrifice to a female hating God.

I am told this period is over. I am told the Prophet Muhammad rectified all of that...historically it may be true, but concretely I am still living the pre-Islamic Jahiliya.

They still bury us alive...they still excise us...

Do not take my words literally...take them symbolically.

Our men are still men from the Jahiliya and our women are still pagan worshipers...but they know it not.

The Idols are still there, except today you are a veiled woman bowing at their feet of clay.

They told us He is your center, we circumambulated around the Kaba'a and we stoned the Devil, only to see him laugh at us, in total mockery...

We did not stone him inside ourselves...we got stoned instead and we did not put up a fight..we surrendered, succumbed to the pagan god that excised us, that buried us alive...

We submitted time and time again to false words, dressing them up as monuments only to fall flat on our faces...

We longed, being the deprived ones, we longed like a Hagar, running the Safa and the Marwa...abandoned by an Abraham and yet giving birth to a nation...

Deprived, we have remained...putting up airs. Adding extra make up, tightening a veil, hugging closer a pair of jeans...but we lost the Hagar in us...we lost the Safa and the Marwa and the waters of Zamzam specially gushing for us...

We forgot the lesson, I am reminding myself now...

I turn my scars into stars
remembering parables from afar..
I turn my scars into stars to remind me who we are.
God said to me through Hagar,
Water is at your feet
there is no Defeat.
I hear your plea
I am here for a She.
No buried alive
No succumbing to a male drive
I am here for you
this is my promise to you
and today I repeat it,
gushing it, anew...