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Call me Mak, because I know that for you Westerners, the Somali ethnic name Makkah is tough to pronounce. My name is Makkah Abdullah and I was born in the City of London, England, to Somali immigrant parents. These days, I attend Brunel University, where I study Criminal Justice in preparation for a career in law enforcement. Being Black, British and Muslim isn’t easy. My lot in life is further complicated by the fact that I am a lesbian. In Islam, gays, lesbians and bisexuals are considered haram or dirty. Most of the Ummah shuns us and despise us. In spite of all that, the number of openly gay and lesbian Muslims has skyrocketed, especially in the Western world.
Anyone who gazes upon me would see a five-foot-nine, slim and fit young Black woman clad in a long-sleeved dark blue T-shirt, ankle-length black skirt and a modest dark gray hijab. The rainbow flag buttons on my backpack definitely throw people for a loop. Apparently, you can’t be Muslim and consider yourself gay, lesbian or bisexual. The two simply don’t go together, I guess. Yet the Muslim community is rampant with men who sleep with men and women who engage in sexual activity with other women. That’s just the way things are. People simply don’t talk about it but that doesn’t mean things don’t happen.
My parents, Mohammed and Salma Abdullah know that I’m a lesbian and they curse the day I was born. I haven’t spoken to them in about three years. I’ve had to take a restraining order against them because, well, quite frankly they want me dead. My younger brother Sadiq turned nineteen this year and he wants me dead too. He told me that if he could kill me he would. Warm words from the brat I once babysat, eh? Like I said before, that’s my lot in life. I am simply the way Allah made me. It is my belief that the Most High created gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender people just like He made straight people. If you don’t like me, don’t take it up with me because I didn’t make myself, God made me. Take it up with Him, and may He have mercy on your arrogant and prejudiced soul. Ameen.
These days, I live in a small apartment in Uxbridge, and I work security part-time to make ends meet. I can’t count on my family for support anymore. They’re too busy hating me. When everything antalya escort in your life is wrong, one has no choice but to move along, I guess. I’d like to think I’ve built a decent life for myself in Uxbridge. My parents live in Berkshire, and honestly, I’m thankful for the distance. I transferred from Imperial College in Berkshire to Brunel University in Uxbridge because I wanted to distance myself from my irate parents. They wanted me dead and I intended to put as much distance between them and me as possible. Still, in a small country like England, you’re bound to run into someone you know. Last year, I was walking around a mall in downtown Birmingham when I ran into my cousin Youssef. Needless to say he wasn’t happy to see me. He approached me, all glowering and menacing. I promptly called mall security and he was escorted out of the building, shouting threats in Somali all the way. Phew, that was a close one, eh? I shudder to think what would have happened if I ran into Youssef in a dark alley or something.
Here in the town of Uxbridge, I more or less feel safe. I know everybody in my building, that’s something. I’m good friends with a Haitian lady named Michelle Jeunesse, who’s raising her mixed-race son Christopher without any help from her estranged ex-husband, a white guy named Clayton Marlowe. Michelle and I come from different worlds but we’ve become good friends. Kind of surprising considering how different we are. She’s Christian and I’m Muslim. She’s straight ( as far as I know ) and I’m a full-fledged lesbian but we’re close friends. You see, we’ve both endured hell on earth because of the choices we made. Michelle told me how she moved to England from the island of Haiti in the summer of 2006 as a student and ended up falling in love with Clayton, a tall, red-haired Englishman at King’s College.
As you can imagine, the short, dark-skinned Haitian gal was enthralled by the tall Englishman. She married him and had a son by him and for a while, everything seemed perfect. And then her hubby clayton began to change. He became abusive, and that’s when she decided to divorce him. Her family thought Clayton could do no wrong since he helped them in their struggle to adjust to England as immigrants from the lara escort Caribbean. They thought she fussed over nothing and sided with the golden boy against their own daughter. For this and many other reasons, Michelle Jeunesse was estranged from her ex-hubby and her family. Being a single Black woman raising a mixed-race son in England by yourself couldn’t be easy. Of course, being a single Somali lesbian whose Muslim family wants her dead for being openly queer isn’t easy either. We all have shit to deal with in this life.
It’s through Michelle that I met the person destined to change my life forever. A tall, dark-skinned young woman originally from the Republic of Ethiopia. Bethlehem Getachew recently moved to Uxbridge, England, from her hometown of Dilla, southern Ethiopia. The first time I laid eyes on her, I found her truly beautiful and when our eyes met, I sensed that she was like me. A woman who loves women. Bethlehem had come to visit Michelle, and I just happened to be at Michelle’s house, keeping her company and playing video games with her son Christopher. Bethlehem couldn’t stop staring at me, and although I was a bit more discrete than her, the attraction was definitely mutual.
Bethlehem and I would later run into each other at the mall, and got to know each other over coffee and biscuits. As it turns out, she goes to Brunel University as well, majoring in civil engineering. Hmmm. The gal is pretty and smart. How about that? Bethlehem and I became friends that day, adding each other on Facebook and exchanging numbers. We began hanging out together regularly, going to the movies and restaurants together. Slowly, we grew close, and fell for each other. To say we came from different worlds would be the understatement of the century. The Republic of Ethiopia has long been the ancestral enemy of Somalia. They’re a nation primarily made up of Christians and Jews, though there are many Muslims in Ethiopia today. The conflict between Somalis and Ethiopians is over differences in culture and religion, and also over territorial disputes. They typically kick our butts because they outnumber us.
Most Somalis would not get involved in a romantic relationship with an Ethiopian person given the hatred side escort between our two communities. Here I am, a Somali Muslim lesbian woman, actually falling in love with an Ethiopian Orthodox Christian chick who considers herself bisexual. How about that? Bethlehem and I became a couple, and at last, I experienced the pleasures of lesbian lovemaking. You see, I’ve endured all kinds of hell from family and so-called friends for being a Muslim lesbian yet at the age of twenty three, I hadn’t even kissed another woman. Thanks to my dear Bethlehem, I definitely made up for lost time.
I still remember our first time fondly. We lay in bed together, naked as jay birds, kissing and fondling one another. Bethlehem smiled at me, caressing my bare breasts and urging me to relax. This beautiful Ethiopian gal was two years younger than me yet knew more about sex than I did. I was definitely in good hands. Bethlehem kissed a path from my lips to my breasts, then spread my thighs. She slipped a finger into my pussy, and began teasing and exploring me. I shuddered as she began licking my pussy, going where no one had gone before.
I ran my hand over Bethlehem’s long hair, and she suddenly stopped. She looked at my pussy, then at me. There was a question in her eyes, and sadness in mine. Who did this to you? That’s what she wanted to know. For my pussy is different than that of other females. In Somalia and in many other Muslim countries, women are genitally mutilated in the name of religion and purity. When I was younger, my mother took me back to Somalia one summer, and one day, she and my aunts held me down and…did that to me. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I cried and pleaded with them to stop but they didn’t listen. It’s for my own good and the will of Allah, they said.
Bethlehem looked at me, her beautiful face filled with chagrin. Gently she put her arms around me and kissed me. Gently, she laid me down and made love to me. I cried out in pleasure as I experienced my first orgasm, brought to me by Bethlehem’s magical mouth, fingers and tongue. My gorgeous Ethiopian girlfriend held me tight in her arms, and told me she loved me. I threw my arms around her and told her that I loved her too. We held each other like this for a long time. Two women in love, that’s what we are. Who cares if I’m Muslim and the love of my life is a Christian woman who identifies as bisexual? We’re happy together, we’re queer and only Allah may judge us come the Day of Judgement. Peace be upon you.
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