As a six-foot-one, curvy and sexy, chocolate-hued Muslim woman in a world that worships skinny Judeo-Christian White girls, I challenge many people's notions of beauty. Hell, I challenge a lot of people's notions about beauty, intelligence and power. I can't help it, though. Part of my burden as a strong Black Muslim woman. My name is Khadija Ismail and I'm a young Somali-Canadian woman living in the City of Calgary, Alberta. Got one hell of a story to share with you, ladies and gentlemen.
My parents, Ali and Mariam Ismail hail from the town of Mogadishu, Federal Republic of Somalia, and I was born and raised right here in provincial Alberta. I consider myself as Canadian as anyone, and that includes the redneck who's our nation's current Prime Minister. Yeah, I said it. Doesn't stop people from asking me about my origins daily, though. Price I for being a person of color in western Canada, I guess.
I'm in the MBA program at the University of Calgary, and at all times I'm surrounded by annoying White guys and Asian guys who want a piece of me while finding me intimidating due to my Islamic faith, my height, skin color and intelligence. I ignore these fools because they are literally and figuratively beneath me. I'm not one of those sisters who wants to share their body and their life with men of other races.
Why? There are many good reasons, but this is the one I will give you. Folks, I live in a world full of racism. Those same White guys who often tell me how exotically beautiful they find me also casually speak of their dislike for other minorities in my presence. Bunch of bigoted and insecure bozos if you ask me. Thanks but no thanks. This chocolate diva likes her chocolate. No damn vanilla for me, thank you very much.
When I'm not at school, I work at a small bookstore in the south end of Calgary. The owner, Sheila Jacobson, is originally from the island of Jamaica. This kindly old Jamaican lady pays me sixteen bucks per hour to run the bookstore. We sell everything from African-American and Afro-Caribbean fiction to mainstream fiction books, nonfiction and the like. There aren't a lot of bookstores like us anywhere in the Prairies, and we do alright for ourselves in the City of Calgary.
We have a small, dedicated readership. One young man has been coming around the store a lot lately. As in at least once a day. Andre Mathieu, a six-foot-four, burly and light-skinned young man with greenish eyes hidden behind thick, nerdy glasses and a messed up Afro that he needs to do a better job taking care of. The tall, nerdy mixed brother often goes to the BDSM and Human Sexuality section. Submissive punk, I thought to myself, smiling.
The other day, Andre Mathieu bought the book The Black Dominatrix Chronicles by Teejay LeCapois. The owner and I like to buy novels and anthologies by obscure Black writers on Amazon.com and Teejay LeCapois is one of the best. I've read some of his works and trust me, they're excellent. This book was hot, Andre said to me, in one of his feeble attempts at conversation.
Honestly, I knew that Andre Mathieu had a crush on me, and to amuse myself, I flirted right back. You like BDSM I take it? I shot back, looking right into his greenish eyes. If Andre took better care of himself and dressed better, he'd look really handsome. Clad in a faded old gray sweatshirt over a brown silk shirt with a high collar and Black silk pants, Andre Mathieu looked like an old professor, rather than a twenty-something young man. Dude's momma must be buying his clothes, poor thing.
I'm trying to learn more about Black sexuality and culture, Andre replied, and I nodded understandingly. I'd already figured out that Andre Mathieu was mixed, and probably raised by the White side of his family. My suspicions were confirmed when he told me that his parents, Paul Mathieu and Caroline Windsor, were divorced, and that he lived in Calgary's west end with his mother. My dad is Haitian, Andre said, and I nodded gently.
