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