Triple Threat

By Aya Elgool

You know, me being a black Muslim woman makes me a triple threat;
That’s a very big flex.
I’m already set standards based on my gender.
Me being black is seen as a weapon
And me being Muslim makes me a terrorist.
Just so you know, us Muslims aren’t happy about 9/11.
It’s BLM because not all lives matter until black lives do too,
And it’s called feminism because we’re addressing the issue, just like BLM –
So I don’t understand what society’s problem is.
I have to keep my eyes on the back of my head.
My mental state has to be indestructible because if it isn’t, I’ll be a broken vase.
The shards laid on the floor because the aftermath of the collision will be everything pouring down like rain,
And that’s hard.
I know I can’t be my own bodyguard 24/7,
I know that anything can happen at any time.
This situation is practically jazz,
All complex and the notes are propaganda while the entire piece is prejudice and discrimination. I am so tired of having to be my own defence mechanism.
I shouldn’t have to put up my own walls all because I was born into a system built to work against me.
I didn’t know that being a triple threat would have this many consequences.
I hate that I can get raped, beat, killed, sexually assaulted, discriminated.
I can suffer from sexism,
I can get burned alive,
I can suffer from Islamophobia,
And not a single being will acknowledge that this has happened to me.
Since I, as a black Muslim woman, am insignificant;
Because I don’t stand a chance against this world;
Since I have to be a triple threat, while having threats still coming my way.
And you know what?
It doesn’t matter if I endorse feminism.
It doesn’t matter if I speak up for my brothers and sisters in concentrations camps in China.
It doesn’t matter if BLM is a trending hashtag on Instagram.
I don’t fit into society’s checklist.
But society finds it OK to hate abortion but dislike teenage pregnancies.
Society finds it OK to hire officers of the law who still violate basic human rights
And society finds it OK that we have a prime minister who’s Islamophobic
This poem is anger unfiltered;
It’s sadness unmuted.
It’s me, as a black Muslim woman, speaking up.
It’s me, a triple threat.
Someone once asked me what my hobby was:
I said last words.