Haraam Fucks With Silence by Fatha Ibrahim

Haaraam Fucks With Silence

BY FATHA IBRAHIM ILLUSTRATED BY JUBEDHA AKTHER

Haraam fucks with Silence

My pussy’s wet Haraam. Go and lay down Silence. Come and touch it. Haraam. Hoyoo are you goin to cut it? Silence. One touch they say it feels nice Haraam. Would you believe me if I say that they can cut your clit ? Silence. How big can a cock be? Haraam. My mum cut hers… so did her mum…so did hers…hers too Silence. My pussy’s wet and it’s not water Haraam. She was pinned down

Silence. I’ve read 50 shades of grey and I liked it Haraam. I’ve read their Quran and I was the Shaytaan Silence. What exactly is sex ? Haraam. There is only Allah. He gives us children Silence. Doggy? Reverse Cowboy? 69? Haraam. Legs open for the old lady Silence. Open my legs to see me ready Haraam. The blade reflecting against her eyes. The old lady is the blade. Silence. You can put your mouth down on my pussy Haraam. The lady edges forward and swipes. They scream Silence. I bet it would feel good. Your tongue. I’ll scream Haraam. Screams and swipe with lovely red Silence. Please, let me feel that again Haraam. Stitch it up Silence Stick it up Haraam. Finished. Legs snapped closed… for him Silence. Legs opened. cumbucket Haraam.

Bloodbucket. Drained. Silence.

Stick it up inside

Stick it up inside me, See if I'm worthy inside. am I worthy for that cock of yours? Husband it’s for you, This ebony flesh for you to pierce through. Hymen for him, His hymen. Protected and perfectly…Black! A hidden land for you to set up camp, Mark your territory, Set up your borders, Split my legs open like nations. Desires and kinks all for you to take. Stick it up inside and make me cum. The earth-shattering orgasm white ladies cry for, that hip thrusting anthem that men kill for. Make me know the feeling of an orgasm , I want to scream like they do in porn . I saved this all for you, My hymen for you, Your hymen, yours. Rip into me and make my desires open Arouse me inside Stick it up inside me Quickly the night is almost passing, it has to be done now. Make your semen seep past through your invested hymen. Tear me up and make me scream. Is that it?

We finished? I haven’t screamed, I screamed in pain. Hurts, not the good kind Stick it up inside me it’s Your enjoyment now, Your explosion. Does mine not cum after yours? I didn’t cum first Your hymen ploughed through Stuck it up inside me Hymen is gone Blood dried On my side Wet With tears His hymen Not mines His.

Where can we touch?

Touch me. I said it. Touch me. I didn't stutter. One touch, right there I'll reciprocate where do you want my hands? Wrapped around you, tight, glove-like we’ve got time, Let’s not rush ourselves. We're not going anywhere. Stop thinking. Just touch me. Touch yourself. I’ll lead if you don’t want to Touch me there… slowly

Don’t scratch, pinch or stroke. Caresses… caress me, gently Let us last through the night Use whatever means you want Tongue, hands…–It’s just us with our own time No one’s watching, except- forget it Follow me down to Naar (Hell) Don’t follow the others follow me instead We've been doing this since Adam and Hawa Take your time. Behind closed doors. No expectations It will be just us No porn just us. Where can you touch? Touch me anywhere that's right. Don’t leave me We’re so close to Temptations are guide I see the devil on your shoulder He’s happy Another one for his team We’re fucking to Naar (Hell) Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Take your fingers out your pussy And wake. Wake and pray. A sinner starts her day.

Cum quick

Hoyoo Hoyoo cum quickly Hoyoo cum quickly Cum and see.

My ecstasy. The sweat dripping down to our butt crack A new exhaustion not from cleaning the house But being made dirty inside. I’ll fuck in the living room The living room for the men to eat See me as I get eaten out The kitchen where the ladies hang See me hang from the counter getting fucked The shower to clean away the sins Water obsessed I fuck in that water now How dirty can I make the water? Haraam is fun now. Now let me cum

Stroke my hair

Stroke my hair softly run it through your fingers. Stroke my hair. No more puffiness stroke my hair with the comb Stroke my hair Stroke my hair feel my texture. I’m different. I’m rough. I’m soft. I’m kinky. Stroke my hair and feel its struggle Stroke my hair and feel its history Stroke and see what I fought for Hair Just hair. Hair that continues to be colonised How about just understanding it is hair. Hair that wants to be free. My hair is wrapped, trapped and put away. In a Hijab, Bonnet, Weave.

Constantly trained, relaxed, permed, straightened, curled. Leave our hair alone. Stroke my hair Grab the comb. Quick, it’s a party A party with friends. We don’t want no bush round here Stroke it apart. Stroke it hard. Needs to be presentable Acceptable to others. don’t be different. Stroke it straight. No more bushy hair here. Stroke my hair softly. Feels nice. Feels relaxed? Well it burns It burns as though I’m on a stake. Condemned. You condemn hair that is covered Yet hate hair that is not straight What do you want?

Shave me

Shave me and make me pretty Shave because no one likes hair Shave me so I can feel you glide in and out. Shave me and let me watch it go down the drain Swirling, twirling, little hairs curling away Haraam hair disappears. Shave. Shave. Shave. It’s disgusting. Revolting. Unhygienic The hair down there Hair all gone. It feels nice. Rub me more. One finger, two finger, how about more? ABCDEFuckme GHIJKLMNOPQRubmeStrokemeTouchme

Haraam. You’re like the kufaar. Fuck me like a kufaar. I'll shave for them not for me.

COMMENTARY

In this assignment I gave myself the task of expressing my own activism. This is my giving a voice to those who are portrayed as being voiceless. Using poetry allows a more fluid structure of language and lets me create varied ways of expressing my views. I have written a poem about female genital mutilation (FGM) and this is something that is quite personal to me but through its looser, associative qualities poetic form gives the topic a commonality that a more exact and descriptive prose style might exclude. The sequence of poems starts with sex and FGM which are an unlikely mix but I have tried to establish similarities between them.

My research included social media such as Twitter, Instagram and broadsheets like The Independent and The Guardian. Social media gave me wider access to the experience of minorities from ethnic backgrounds because these platforms allow diverse voices a platform and an audience that mainstream media do not. I didn’t want only to focus on FGM but also show other experiences that conflict with where I live and to discuss sexual relations as a person of colour, as well as someone who comes from a community which tends to see subjects like this as taboo.

In the first poem I play with the Islamic word of ‘Haraam’ and how it can be a synonym of ‘Silence’. The word Haraam is defined as ‘Haraam is that for which the one who does it will be punished and the one who abstains from it will be rewarded’ (What is the Definition of Haram & Halal? 2000). I use the words Haraam and Silence repeatedly in my poem as a repetitive chant that makes the reader understand these contrasting words and the actions that arise from their contrast. I used FGM and sex as the discourse for this poem and linked them together. The sentences start off with sexual expression which is quickly stopped with the word Haraam. The procedure of FGM and the intimacy of sex are both expressed in terms of silence, implying the silence around discussion of both sex and FGM, and the silence of those who view it as normal.

The second poem describes a harsh reality for some newlywed couples. I have used the subject of an eager wife wanting to experience losing her virginity in comparison to an eager husband. The expectations of rushed passion are what I have been trying to incorporate into my poetry. The selfishness of the husband and wife due to wanting to fulfil desires. The wife who has been living with the constant demand that she should keep her virginity for her husband is left disappointed in the end. The lack of consideration towards the opposite sex when it comes to sexual intercourse is the fault of not being taught that sexual pleasure is not something to be guilty of.

The third poem is about masturbation and how the poet is labelled a ‘sinner’ in the end. I want the reader to understand that the poetic voice is not shaming the women but is trying to locate her frustration. The woman having to imagine scenarios with her imaginary lover shows her sexual frustration. This can also be linked to the fourth poem as I have used Somali dialect: ‘hoyoo’ translates as ‘mother’. Here the poetic voice is also trying to explain that sex is something to not be ashamed of. This is why I end it with the line “Haraam is fun now”.

The two last poems shift as they begin to discuss the narrative of being a coloured woman. I had decided to include hair as the subject, both natural hair and pubic hair. The shameful subject of this comes to light in the struggle whether to accept natural hair and then line it alongside the issue of shaving and how that is sometimes perceived as disgusting.

In these poems I wanted to make the progression linear and give each identity a structure. I also wanted to avoid the overt explanation of prose and use visual markers of emphasis. This was achieved by crossing out certain words that are thought of as vulgar but in doing so adding emphasis to them, i.e. pussy, cum, cock. I enjoyed this technique because it made it seem as if I was trying to hide the words that I use in my poetry, which I’m not. Explicit words are present everywhere but erased by social pressure.