LIFE OF A MUSLIM BLACK MELANIN

Freedom

(Rahma's pov)

I was fed up.

If I had only years of living then I'll make the most out of it.

I stood looking at the little amount of people gathered up in our living room for Musa's burial prayers.

He was shot dead on the head By a police man.

He was walking in his black outfit in a dark Alley as he made his way towards the new grocery store he got attached to.

We all doubted he went there almost every night to see someone, but he never confirmed it.

And he started smiling more, and he was  like the Ray of hope in the house.

He was a good elder cousin, but now he's gone.

Day by day, black people suffer from injustice,  and they get haunted for years, just because they were born black.

I've experienced it since childhood, and I'm done standing on the sideline as this kept going on.

If we black people didn't stand up for ourselves,  then who would?

We all mourned the death of Musa, but it affected Ibrahim the most and it was hard to see Ibrahim looking so lifeless.

He has been my strength through the past month.

When I couldn't trust,  he made me learn to, when I wanted to stop trying, he was there to push me, when I couldn't love, he was there to show me how to love again.

Never did he initiate an intimate or romantic act between us, but he has always been there for me as My cousin and now I want to be here for him.

I remember vividly as he gripped me tightly in his embrace and sobbed.

It broke my heart seeing him like that but he said something that kept bugging me.

"I want justice rahma."

And i also wanted the same, so I made up my mind.

To start a protest about 'justice for black lives'
And #blacklivesmatter

I was prepared for this protest,  this war.
And I was prepared to fight it.

The prayers for Musa's soul carried on for seven days before it was finally the day I and Ibrahim have prepared for

The 'justice for black lives' protest.

We created flyers and posters which had on them written BLACK LIVES MATTER written on it.

We started by protesting from schools to the streets and other part of the community.

To my greatest surprise more people joined the protest, mostly black people but a few white also joined, and day by day my heart kept soaring as we kept on increasing in number.

Soon our protest became popular on social media, people typed words of encouragement to support our protest,  while others said we were wasting out time and our efforts were futile

But My name is Rahma!, my story has been long and I've experienced worst than some few bad words to ditter me.

I'll make my voice heard.

That's a promise I made to myself.

Some days the protest went out in a non violent way while other days it ended up with some of us being injured by the police.

Did that stop us?
No!
Will that stop us?
Never!

I received threat letter form all sorts of people,  warning me to stop the protest and back down before they harmed me or my loved ones, I was scared at first but I had few years to live