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Call me Ayaan, if you would, please. I see a lot of Muslims shortening or simplifying their names to please Westerners, and I shake my head at such a trend. If your name is Mohammed, don’t let some punk with a last name like Williamson or O’Connell call you Mo, either at work or at home or anywhere else. Make them respect enough to say your name properly. Cultural relativity states that if I seem strange to you, then you must seem equally strange to me. Alright? Cool.
My parents, Ali and Afaf Osman moved to Ontario, Canada, from Somaliland in the third summer of my life. I don’t really remember Somaliland but it is and shall always be home. I was born of that land and it’s in my blood until the day I die. I grew up in the City of Ottawa, also known as the town that fun forgot. Whoever decided to overlook major metropolitan areas like Montreal, Calgary and Toronto and make Ottawa our capital must have been drunk at the time. That’s okay, though. Some of us do our best thinking while drunk.
Anyhow, I recently moved to Kanata, and I honestly hate the place with a fiery passion. The West end of Ottawa lacks diversity, and I swear the OC Transpo bus drivers in the area are so racist it’s not even funny. They just don’t like people of color, especially us Africans. As a young Black woman who wears the hijab, I attract a lot of stares. Not much I can do about it. I am proud of my Somali heritage and my Muslim faith. If some racist white person is made uncomfortable by that, well, they’ll just have to get over it.
It’s summertime, and after finishing my third year at Carleton University, I decided to get myself my own place. Renting a one-bedroom spot from an old white lady in Kanata. I wonder what I was thinking when I clicked on that ad on the Kijiji website. I saw that the room was furnished, and only cost four hundred a month, with a free parking spot. That’s great, except I don’t drive. The U-pass, issued by my school, isn’t valid during the summer months. That means that I’m going to have to buy a ninety-eight-dollar bus pass from OC Transpo at the start of May. Man that sucks!
I work as a security guard and lately, the company I work for hasn’t been calling me for shifts. I don’t think my scheduler likes me because a lot of my co-workers, male and female, get shifts and I get them once in a blue moon. I am not the type of person who automatically plays the race or religion casino oyna card but I notice that at certain jobs, you don’t see a lot of women wearing the hijab. I’ve seen Arab women and Somali women working at places like CIBC, CRA and Parliament, but they were attired in western clothing, with their hair flowing freely. Why doesn’t that surprise me?
Canada considers itself a multicultural nation, but the supposedly liberal and tolerant Canadians are having a real problem with us Muslims. We’re growing in number, and that worries the hell out of them. People whose families originate from places like Somalia, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, Afghanistan and other Muslim-majority nations tend to have more offspring than your typical white Canadians. Oh, well. Maybe someday when white folks become minorities in North America they’ll get a taste of their own medicine. I just hope I live to see that day.
Anyhow, enough about politics. A couple of months ago, I met a gal I simply couldn’t forget. Anne Marie Biloxi. You should have seen her, seriously. Five feet eleven inches tall, with short black hair, light brown skin and lime-green eyes. Anne Marie is biracial, born in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to a Jamaican immigrant father, Andrew Biloxi, and a French Canadian mother, Marie Tremblay. I was walking through the Carleton University library, stressed out about midterms, when I spotted…her. The tall, light-skinned chick with the big booty. The way she looked in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, I couldn’t help but stare. Big-booty girls are my weakness.
Are you surprised by this? The fact that I, Ayaan Osman, proud Somali Muslim sister, and hijab aficionado, am a lesbian? Don’t be. Shoot, the way things are in most Islamic countries, with the separation of the sexes until marriage, I’m surprised we don’t see more gay Muslim men and Muslim lesbians. I know a lot of bisexual Muslims, both male and female. Muslim GLBT simply are more discrete than our Western counterparts, that’s all. No need for parades and all that shit. We’re not white. We like to have our fun away from prying eyes. It’s just the way things are done in our culture. That’s it, that’s all.
Anyways, where was I? Oh, yeah, I was telling you about Anne Marie Biloxi. I was mesmerized by her big, hot ass and killer body, and prayed that, well, the gal was at least hetero-flexible. I hate when canlı casino I meet a super sexy chick and she’s one hundred percent heterosexual. It often breaks my heart. Well, when Anne Marie’s eyes met mine, and she licked her lips and smiled, my heart skipped a beat. This chick had B.U.T.C.H. written all over her. I love butch girls, especially the ones with big butts and big tits like Anne Marie. Is there anything hotter than a big-booty tomboy? Don’t answer that.
I approached her, and Anne Marie tried to play it cool with that cocky manner that butch girls got about themselves. I could tell that she wanted me. We got to talking and she told me that she transferred to Carleton from Concordia University in Montreal. Apparently, the criminology program at Carleton University is better. Cool. Anne Marie and I added each other on Facebook, and exchanged numbers. See you soon mamas, Anne Marie said, as I headed to my midterm exam. I smiled inwardly. Count it butch, I thought. Two days later, Anne Marie and I went to watch Pompeii at the Silver City movie theater.
The movie sucked, except for the bits where we got to see Nigerian actor Adewale Akinnuoye Agbaje fighting as a Gladiator in the Roman-style coliseum. A lot of people are surprised that I’m very Afro-centric and have much love and respect for Black men since I’m a Black lesbian. Apparently, I’m supposed to hate the men of my race. Not so. I love my dad, and my older brother, Hakim. My father and brother always protected me while respecting my decisions. They supported me when I came out. My mom is more religious than my dad and my brother and considers my lesbianism to be haram but she still loves me.
I am a gay Black Muslim woman in Canada. I’d be nothing without my family. Believe that. After the movie, Anne Marie and I went to grab a bite at the Blair mall food court. We chatted while eating some delicious Shawarma sandwiches. I found myself quite comfortable with Anne Marie. The gal was cool, smart and easygoing. And she looked mad cute in a dark blue T-shirt featuring Bob Marley, black jeans and Timberlands. If it weren’t for the fact that she had on a disgusting old Maple Leafs hat on, Anne Marie would have looked perfect. Of course, she’s butch and they’re notoriously sloppy so I shouldn’t complain.
I think I looked okay in a long-sleeved red T-shirt, long black skirt and dark crimson hijab. Judging by the kaçak casino way Anne Marie looked at me, I could tell that she liked what she saw. You look good enough to eat mamas, Anne Marie said, licking her lips sexily. I smiled and shrugged. Thank you dear, I said shyly. Yeah, I definitely saw a future for us. That was two months ago, and we’ve been seeing each other ever since. What can I say? I love butch girls and I cannot lie!
Our sex life simply sizzles, ladies and gentlemen, especially after Anne Marie’s confession that she’s “butch on the streets and femme in the sheets”. I can’t tell you how much this pleases me. I’m a five-foot-six, dark-skinned and skinny Somali chick in a hijab, and I weigh 120 pounds. I don’t look very dominant. Looks can sure be deceiving. You see I like to top my women in bed. Well, Anne Marie loved that about me.
In the bedroom, I would make my sexy butch slut lie down, stark naked on my bed, and I would tie up her hands and feet. You’re mine now, I would say in that throaty and bossy voice Anne Marie loved so much. While Anne Marie lay there, tied up and helpless, I would smack her around, pinch her nipples, tickle her, and of course suck on her big, very non-butch tits while fisting her big, hairy cunt. I love fisting my butch girlfriend while she’s bound. Anne Marie would drop all that swagger and fake toughness that a lot of butch chicks walk around with and scream like the bitch she is!
Things got even hotter when I would don a strap-on dildo and bend Anne Marie over for a good stuffing. You should hear that butch slut scream her lungs out as I pushed my dildo into her cunt, while spanking her big round butt. I sometimes wish she had long hair because I would love to pull it. Oh, well. After ramming my dildo into Anne Marie’s cunt, I would lick her pussy while inserting a slim green dildo into her butt hole. My butch slut’s thick round booty was tailor-made for bum sex, and I love that stuff. I must say, Anne Marie looked really cute walking around my apartment with a butt plug in her asshole.
Yeah, I love making love to my sexy butch slut of a girlfriend. On the streets Anne Marie swaggers, talks trash, smokes, and postures in a macho way like butch girls love to do. She even deepens her voice a bit to keep up her butch image. In the bedroom, I make her scream like a madwoman as I smack her, fist her, lick her cunt, and insert my toys in her mouth, pussy and asshole…sometimes all at once. We’re happy together, my butch slut and I. A lot of people would disapprove of our relationship if they knew of the intimate details but fuck them. It’s my life!
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