Complex Magazine Ranks Islams' Hottest Women...No, Not Literally Hot

But either way it ain't their hijabs that are the cause...

As seen on MMW: Complex Magazine’s online blog. They decided to list “The 10 Hottest Muslim Women” in a crude effort to celebrate Ramadan, and probably remind men to check a religious minority off of their list. Great.

"Laila Ali,
Complex's "The 10 Hottest Muslim Women""

As if I don’t have enough to deal with while I am fasting! The article celebrates a wide range of women, which on the plus side probably taught readers about the diversity of the Islamic world.

The article opens by describing the plight of “Muslim models”, citing the story of a Malaysian model (Kartika)caned for her alleged drinking of beer in a nightclub. [pictured below]Complex adds punishment and rebellion to the representation Muslim women as oppressed damsels with daddy issues–obviously an effort to tantalize the reader.

I wondered if the author simply searched for “hot famous Muslim chicks” in order to compile the list. I was surprised that the article did not feature helpful hints for readers to pick up Muslim girls or how to save them from their oppressive fathers and husbands.

The snarky commentary focused upon clever ways to draw upon stereotypes of these women: the caption for Wafah Dufour reads:

Osama bin Laden’s niece posed semi-nude for GQ back in 2006 in a bizarre attempt to capitalize on her family name. Her uncle would probably be pissed if he didn’t have over 300 other nephews and nieces to keep track of.

Listing women such as Laila Ali, Eve, Iman, and Queen Rania did not even highlight the contributions of these women or their ability to break stereotypes, but rather created a way to crudely objectify women who have made significant changes within their respective fields.

"Kartika Sari Dewi Shukarno
from Complex Magazine"

Furthermore, to highlight the fact that they come from Muslim backgrounds or may follow the Muslim faith in order to sexualize them is not only offensive to their accomplishments, but is ultimately offensive to the faith itself. Obviously, Islam has not hindered these women, and the article does not feature any commentary on the role of faith in their lives.

These women did pose rather provocatively in these photos, I think that it is no different than what I see when I flip through a magazine at the supermarket. What makes this article so offensive to me in particular, is the fact that they are fetishizing these women based upon a stereotype of Muslim women being seen and not heard. Thus, the article makes wide assumptions about not only the backgrounds of these women, but about Muslim women in general. I think the beauty of Muslim women is our diversity in thought, expression, and backgrounds, and this list merely reduces us to one sexualized image.

Disappointing, yes. Entertaining, perhaps. Now to explain to my co-workers why I don't roll around in 6 inches heels, boobs a flare, and hair lingering in the breeze, fun. Not.

Would You Fill Up My Empty Glass With a Shot of Innocence?.... I Haven't Had Any Sense I Fell In Love.

Reason # 234 why marrying seems less appealing: "Boys Will Be Boys"


-"stop being a boy;step-up and be a man!"

Some people call me a pessimist of love but, I'm not. I'm just a realist. I've only been alive a few decades but, those decades have forced me to realize the actuality that is, love and being loved. I'm not the most profound of lovers but, I know enough to make the boys turn pink. Somewhere in between being hit on in hijab and realizing that virgin doesn't always refer to a non-alcoholic mix I learned that boys will be boys and a few other helpfuls. Too often and too cliched is the above quote, never thought I'd hear it personally, especially coming from my mouth...

Saturday, I stopped by (my -ex/varsity) high-school girls volleyball game. They lost. They deserved it. Maybe it's just me but, I feel like if you're wearing hijab you shouldn't be pulling up your jersey to tie it in the back. This isn't a J.Lo video and the ref isn't Ricky Martin; put some clothes on. Even without the religious aspect two girls showed up in jeans. Jeans?! Seriously, what kinda damage are you planning on spiking down in a pair of low rise jeans?Some of these girls aren't aware of their worth to the opposite gender but, trust you me dollface, jeans have ruined many relationships. I've broken a few hearts and maybe fewer spirits in some jeans, and I'm damn proud of it. The difference is I knew what I was doing.

One of the girls 16, in her low-rise hipsters, told me her 'tentative fiance'- whatever that means-- was supposed to surprise her. He didn't, but his best friend did. I could tell you about the drama that ensued over him (the best friend) whistling from the bleachers every time she went for a dig; I could describe the way her jeans hugged her hips and winked with her every sway;I could tell you that her fiance missed more than a game, he missed a whole peep show. But, I won't. Instead, I'll explain how she not only got the fiance's best friends' attention but, a few of the opposing teams' brothers,boyfriends, and even fathers. Oh yes fathers, in fact, one of them yelled "Don't matter if she looses, as long as she gets low I'm winning." Then he reached over to hi-5 his son with a huge grin. The wife, and mother simply turned the other cheek and my poor hip-swinging, baby shamefully exited stage left with clouds of tears filling her eyes.

As I headed over to console I darted a lasting glare of judgment at the father-son, douche bag-duo. I looked after them and whispered, "Is this what kind of man you want to be?" The bleachers fell silent, no one dared move. I took the first step and shifted towards the locker room to hold my unassuming bit of innocence. She cried until her heart stopped pounding and whimpered into my breast "sorry, I didn't know.... I didn't mean to..." I asked her what she thought would happen with her dressing so scandalously. She said all too honest, "I thought he would be here & I thought he would love me."

"Is it better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all?" She was so consumed with pleasing him that she lost herself in search of him. Men never actually mature; they grow older but, do they ever grow up? Boys will be boys; but I'm not a girl. I need a man, I want to feel safe and secure in his passionate embrace. I want to be turned on by mind and become moistened by his thoughts. I left the game and texted another him.

Me: I can't do this anymore, every time we talk it's either a one-word response or none at all.
Him: WTF!
Me: Yeah, I'm done. I can't stand not knowing where I stand.
Him: Ok, lol.
Me: I just guess I thought this time around especially with you it would be different.
Him:I'm not ready for any relationship.
Me:And I'm not looking for one...
Him:Than what do you want from me?
Me:Nothing.

And with that I deleted yet another soul from my passionate book of contacts. It's not that I don't love him, it's not that he doesn't not love me. But, he's been here longer than me. He's supposed to be stronger than me and yet, merely texting him leaves me weak. Somethings not right and for once I know I'm not what's wrong. Makes you think, 'what would the world be like if Eve was the forbidden fruit?'

Be Soft, Be Sweet, But, Darling Be Discret.

Confession of The Month:

It's 3 am on Sunday when he looks up, smiling, and strumming the chords to 'A Whole New World' when I realize for the past two weeks I've been flirting with a married man. What's worse is that after he finishes, he stares contently into my Auburn-Grey rimmed eyes to say 'sometimes, I'm amazed by you,'

.................................................................................................................................................................

A long and semi-unnecessary story precedes why and how I ended up at 'guy's night'. I assure you it's ridiculous and will probably never happen again. From the very beginning I failed to understand why Maria wanted us girls at guy's night. But, I told myself we wouldn't stay too long and considering the fact that the only guy I was remotely interested was not only visiting but, engaged, there would be no pressure. The first night we went over I only stayed until 1:30 am, I say only because the following nights were just unacceptable. I didn't bake, dance, or try any other cheap shots at getting his or anyone's attention. I was there in support of my friends.But, then he opened up his case and pulled out his guitar.



He's not too attractive but, when he sings he let's my heart on fire. Then just like that god-forsaken Taylor Swift song I thought, "Romeo take me somewhere we could be alone;" my spine straightened and cheeks flushed a hue of crimson. Thankfully, this didn't happen but, for the next 36 hours we spent an indescribable and far too temptingly intimate distance to one another. My personal shaytan whispered how the ring on his finger wasn't a marriage it was an engagement. About 5 hours later she whispered again, besides rings don't make marriages.

His dimples are far too enticing.

By this time half of you are probably think, "yeah...but did anything happen!?" And, the short answer is, no. We didn't touch, make babies, or anything super scandalous like that. But, we did feel each other. I don't know how to explain it but, like I've said before you don't have to touch in order to feel. As a young Muslim girl I shouldn't have even been in such an environment especially, given the circumstance. A woman's intuition never fails. My intuition is telling me that his weak week long engagement will last, with a troublesome, if not impending failure of a marriage. But, that's none of my business. What kind of marriage counselor intentionally ruins marriages, just because she can!?

In fact, what kind of person sends signals of seduction luring her prey just to watch him crumble? I'm not even into him, and yet I invested hours into making him feel comfortable enough to trust my temptation over his fiances love. Luckily he's gone home now and back to his loving fiance who doesn't know the otherwise. It happened too fast. We were all but, too close, too close for comfort.Part of me feels immensely guilty but, an even bigger part of me is proud of the fact that I could accomplish such a task in a matter of 2 and 1/2 days with 12 hours of sleep, Rockband, Wild Blueberry Muffins, a futon, and a guitar.


Geez, why's it always gotta start with a guitar?

What Came First The Chicken Nugget Or The Egg McMuffin?

"I'm No Nugget!"

On Tuesday February 3, 2009 I received the following email from one of my students parents.

"Dr. Ms. A,

While I appreciate your diverse methods in teaching I don't like the thought that my son continues to grab at my breast.....either of them..."

I'm sure by now each of you is wondering either A) How did you respond OR B) What the Hell brought her to write such a letter. Really though this entire mini-scandal isn't my fault. Let's rewind shall we?

So, it's about 4th period and each of the kids files in from lunch. Of course lunchboxes and backpacks are being slung right and left and chatter is at it's peak. As a teacher you learn to zone in on particular sounds, gestures, or movements. In my case it was the lack of a certain sound that hinted at a problem. I didn't hear singing.Kylie, the bronze eyed California transfer student wasn't singing her song of the week (Doo Wah Diddy). She always sings this on the way back from lunch. Always. I all too dramatically scanned the classroom to find her, man it would suck if I lost a kid. But, I didn't. She was sitting at her desk looking disgusted and frustrated at whatever was in her hand. I got closer when I heard Cody whisper at her 'it's ok, you're just a chick'.

Now, I could have taken this discussion many ways. First I examined the obvious clues.

Clue #1:According to Cody him and Kylie are 'dating'. Kylie wasn't singing, which could mean that Cody like most men shamelessly broke her heart and stopped her song forever...well at least till recess.

Clue #2:Kylie was clinching onto her lunch of chicken nuggets for dear life.

Clue #3: I'm far too impatient and imaginative to figure out what really happened so I asked Brad. Brad told me that Cody and Kylie were still together. Then he said that Kylie was upset because she didn't have breast. Cody pointed out that even chicken have breast and that since Kylie couldn't find her breast that she was just a chick.

It was about this time that I was kicking myself in the head for ever being a teacher. I took this opportunity to start the creative journal entry of the day "Where do Chicken Nuggets come from?" The thing is the class didn't want to write they wanted to talk. In fact talking wouldn't have been so bad either but, Cody wanted to touch.

Long story short, the class came to the conclusion that girls and boys are different. I pointed out that because of this difference boys and girls have different parts. Different parts mean different conditions. I explained "you can't handle girl parts the way you handle boys parts." I referred the kids back to classroom rule # 5 "Keep hands, feet, and objects to yourself" stating that it might hurt someone else if you handle their parts without their permission. Then Brad asked "What if you have their permission?" I looked down and muttered "damn." I took this time to gather my thoughts and calculate my next move but, during my break the kids start discussing things amongst themselves. That was problem #1. And before we could get to problem # 2 I raced over to the creativity corner and threw two tubes of playdoh at Shelbie and Cody.

Ms.A:"Both of you remove the playdoh from the container. Come to the front of the class and face opposite each other. Then I want for both of you to make chicken nuggets."

Cody and Shelbie's chicken nuggets were similar in shape but, not size. Cody's were huge and Shelbies' were were not. Then I instructed both them to make breast. Codys were lope sided and shelbie made three. Then Scott yells from the back "those aren't breast! My mom touches breast all the time and they don't look like that!" Scott was obviously referring to chicken breast while Cody and Shelbie took literal approaches. But, this is exactly what I wanted. "Both Shelbie and Cody are correct,"I explained to the class. They both made breast, just in different ways.They felt the same but, that they weren't. I continued by saying that people are like breast we are all humans but, none of us are exactly the same. Everyone is different and should be handled as such. Shelbie blurts out, "so Ms. Lawrence has breast, I have nuggets, and you have jugs?"...

Then Scott mutters, "uh-oh" and boy was he right. I informed the class that we needed to wacth our language, you don't have to touch something in order to feel it. Thankfully the majority relaeased an "OH..." in return. So the mystery of chicken nuggets, jugs, and breast was solved. I was tired of outwitting my class and in closing informed them to write a one page paper on 'the importance of accepting differences' for homework. Cody didn't violate Kylie, Kylie sang her song, finished her lunch, and smiled. I put the playdoh back in the cubbys and

Cody asked so how are boys and girls different Ms.A?
I smirked and replied, "Cooties, Cody, cooties."

A Scrub Is Guy That Can't Get No Love From Me...

It's the month of love. I turned in my classics of children's literature analytical essay.

My A.I. read the rough draft and asked

Her: Are you having a breakdown?
Me: **silent and blankly staring back** I looked at her as if to ask if she wanted the truth.
Her: umm, then are you on Adderall?
Me: Oh.

I took me 6 straight hours. I pumped out a measly but, brilliant 3.5 pages. My argument:Charles Perrault's adaptation of “Aschenputtel” emphasizes the moral and materialistic concerns of society heavily reinforcing gender stereotypes within “Cinderella.” That's right I took the feminist approach. Sue Me. I stated that Cinderella was only 'good enough' for the prince once she was externally beautiful. If you recall the prince doesn't even have a name. Cinderella however was gaga for him from the beginning, ready to risk death as a glorified slave just to meet him.

The prince does not even have a name, but he did have a title. This expresses the thought that men are only interested in woman for their external and physical contributions AND that women are not only, eager but, waiting to give it away. For centuries, fairy tales have been used to express subliminal messages of existing tabooed desires, gender roles, class expectations, and etiquette. The Prince just wanted some action, and like a fool she gave it up for free. I guess that's where the Boleyn's learned all their tricks. I said Cinderella is a glorified prostitute.

I'm a beast.

Why Do You Build Me Up ButterCup Darling Just To Let Me Down...

You know that place where theory meets reality?






You know that place where theory meets reality? It's the place that happens when you come to the actualization that your life just may be different than others like you. It's that place where your own family and closest friends can not seem to grasp the person struggle you seem to be burdened by. I wasn't going to post about how he upset me. I wasn't going to say that he's too de-sensitized to the fact that he's not the only one in a two person conversation. I wasn't going be affected by it. But, I am.

You see I am offended that you are trying to convince that I'm the same person as you just because we have a commonality. Males (in general) have the tendency to mistake vocal release for complaining, ungratefulness, or bi*ching. But, it's not. Girls like to release and it's in a physical form different than men do. Ironically enough this is what we talked about today in my marriage interaction course. According to recent statistics the number one fallacy of females is withdrawing from men physically to compensate for mens' withdrawal emotionally. And, while the issue I'm currently irate over has nothing to do with a person I am romantically inclined towards it's still upsetting. Maybe it's just me but, I think people really need to stop over generalizing their gender stereotypes and get real.

Today we learned about actual sex VS. performed gender. It's the idea that gender is not assigned but, rather chosen and performed. Its made famous by Dr. Judith Butler who assesses that woman learn to think, feel, and respond a certain way because of how they observe 'woman should act.' Basically girls act girly because they expect themselves to do such as girls(Say that three times fast), the same is said for men. It's all about human perception and expectations. Stupid is as stupid does and boy is as boy does. That to some of you means your entire life is a sham! That's right JC Chasez of N'Sync all this time it was "ok" for you to play with Barbies. Sad face. You really missed out. Err, anyways, my beef is that while men may be confused about what woman want, woman are often confused by what men expect. When all along if we stopped wishing on old wishes and creating falsified expectations based on gender assumptions then we wouldn't have to keep playing games with each others heart. Then we'd all be happy! But, alas what's the fun in that? happiness is for old people. So if you're a guy and you're reading this do the right thing. Don't just hear your girl, listen. And if you're a girl don't change a thing. We've got boobs and thus rule the world.


For more on how to sex up your marriage/communication
Let me google that for you- Judith Butler


That last part was a total joke.

When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose?'

Thanksgiving Day Part I

It's 4:45 am. It's amazing how perfect strangers impact the person you are both today and tomorrow.I stand in line at Khol's watching the man in khakis lay on the ground. Then there's an 8 month pregnant chick being smashed into the sliding glass doors. Over and Over and Over again. Then there's that 35ish yr. old man who suffered a severe head trauma after being trampled by angry 'bargain shoppers'. I wonder if he could buy back his life if they had killed him. Or maybe a bit of self-conscious dignity would be buy-one-get-one 50% off. Funny how the mob has several heads yet no brain. I was angered for a had no new shoes, then I met a man who had new legs. And appreciation is something that only comes with loss.

The 3 of us arrived at Saxs that morning in Jessie's 2006 Land Rover. We are dressed in Uggs and designer jeans. It's not about the labels though. It's about the meaning they carry. For me, Uggs are like walking on clouds. They are a comfort. Jessie values the fact that her parents can afford them. They are a symbol of status. And for Zahra her Uggs mean accomplishment. She earned the right to wear them. They are only a reflection of her inward sense of accomplishment.
We giggled our way past the cascading doors and by the man in the red suit. He was a tall man but of medium build and rings a bell for a living. His job is simple; raise funds. Proceeds benefit the Salvation Army & Riley's Hospital for Children. It really is a good cause, but I didn't give a dime.

He bothers me and won't stop watching my expressions. He sees something in me that I don't see in myself. I wish I knew what it is. I grow nauseous glaring at his sign which reads "Need has NO season. Now is the time." Here I was about to drop an easy 300$ within an hour but, I couldn't stop for 1 second to donate 1$, to a dieing child. I was sliding my card for a new iTouch when a tear escaped my eye. Temptation was killing me. But, ignorance would be the death of me. I knew better. Zahra squeezed my hand tightly, almost breaking my circulation and silently walks me out of the store. "I couldn't stand it either" she whispered. I put a 50$ bill in the mans red bucket and a 10$ bill in his pocket.

The world went still. He was proud. He looks at me, "you know sunshine, If you really want to know what god thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to." The sudden need to vomit disappeared. The temptation to overindulge subsided. We left the mall in the same shoes, same clothes that we arrived. We just sported different labels.

Thanksgiving Day Part II

Way back when me and "Mr.Hopeful" still had a possibility of being together and getting married he said something that really bothered me. He said, "even if you leave and are happy I'll still have a part of you." He meant it in a semi-enduring manner, a - oh yeah well if you leave i'll still love you- type tone. The only problem is now it's become the truth. I haven't spoken to him in about 9 months, I mean we speak but, we don't talk. You see when people say "Hey how are you?" They don't really want to know how you are. It's a common courtesy to check- ya know just in case. The thing is somewhere along the lines of me maturing, challenging my own ideals and discovering self, he lost his. He's fallen into habits like you wouldn't believe.

Before we left his place his mother asked him to go into the kitchen and fitch something. Because he couldn't find it he got in her face and called her a "dumb fu*k", and no unfortunately he didn't stop there. And she, well, she just took it. We left his family's headed for mine and the brilliant Thanksgiving spread which awaited us. We dropped him off at a friends house. He stole an unwanted hug and waved g'bye. She glared at me like she knew me. But, after the whole ordeal on Black Friday I was in NO mood to be labeled. Sarah's the latest fling on his list of things 'to do'. She's a small brunette too tall for her weight and more conniving than most give her credit for. [See post here] She's found a way to capture his attention for now and I'm ok with that. In fact, I'm thinking, I'm the only one "Ok" with it. I do not believe anyone wants them to be happy, not even themselves.

Anyways-Me, his mom, and sisters sat in the black Camry heat on high, windows rolled low. My bangs escaped my scarf and fluttered into my blushed face. The music was blaring the mood was soft, exact. Then his mom swiftly glances back and says "you know this is all your fault" She wasn't angry she just seemed so certain, matter of fact. 'This whole thing, with her-Sarah. It's your fault.' My fault?


Even now the words haunt me.

Just because we are forbidden to touch does not mean that your love does not light my ocean

I wish I would let him start believing in me. Maybe he won't look too hard into my heart. He might cause this flustered heart to pulse with a beat undeniable. 'Just let him care already'...'what's the worse that could happen?' my friends are all too eager to advice my situations in life. Oh, but I can't.I won't.

Then something happened. Late one misty Autumn sunset afternoon this girl walks home from class. There he is. I look away as though I hadn't spotted him across the courtyard.He glances up with a smirk in his eyes and a smile on that sun kissed face. My heart does a double take and my eyes flash forward. Concentrate, I tell myself. You don't like him. You can't like him. Oh hell! Since when do I like him?! I slow trying steady my pace. Subconsciously I was now tip toeing toward him. We 'accidentally' walk at the same speed now. We are two magnets growing closer, casually colliding.Little did I know how literal this would become.

He slowly glides over "Hey you, salams.." I try and act disinterested and maybe even annoyed. He notices. We keep up with the small chat. I nod and agree where I see fit. 45 mins roll past un-aware of this attraction. Always I remember to never seem intrigued. Our small unsuspecting glares throw my heart into a rampant fit of fire. Somewhere in the trying to concentrate on not looking concentrated I stopped walking. I look up into his auburn colored eyes and glare at my fate. It's beautiful.

Then something happened. "Why are you so stubborn?", he asks. The question throws me off. "Well do you want the long,short, or honest answer?" I settle in with a cool confidence. I must never appear caught off guard I remind myself.He thinks about this for about 5 seconds finally ending with a light chuckle. "Well I expect a lie, know the truth, and hope it's short." "Ugh!" I moan out. See this is why I can't stand guys, they never know what they want, it's always a guessing game. And I'm pretty darn good at games but, I don't have time for this one. I don't even really love him. Heck, I don't even like him! I'm in love with the idea of being in love. I'm not ashamed to admit he's more of a muse than a pleasure either. He's a confidence booster, a smile that never fails. I could handle this. "well, do inform this girl of why she is SO stubborn" I mock, challenging his words. He cocks his head sides ways, leaning in a little closer. At first I stop breathing unaware of what might escape his lips next.

[To Be Continued...]

But,The Beauty of Grace Is That It Makes Life Not Fair...

Why do we believe the lies and forget the truth?

Parents recycle alot of things. If I could stop one though, it would ignorance.

Oh how I despise people that are more in love with the idea of being in love, than in love with the person itself. Did that make sense? My friends are seemingly obsessed with creating such scenarios. "I love him, we have the same favorite color." Really? "But, ofc she loves me, I mean she poked me." How long are we going to play these word and mind games convincing ourselves that a truth is there simply because we secretly hope it is so? If there are truly two people committed to each other that can connect on multiple realms than so be it.They are in love, and I accept that. I hate to be Cruella De Ville but, I refuse to be an oblivious Cupid either.

The problem with my friends however is that they don't just do this word/mind game in matters of love/lust. In fact, they are simply following the examples of their elders. Like my friend 'Samah' for example. Her mother says, "Boys and girls are not to touch or intermingual before marriage" apparently it causes AIDS. Whatever.

The same night however her older brother brings home a 'friend' from school. She's petite, simple, even sweet. They hold hands, hug, and she eats with the family. Interesting. Then,their mother smiles. In most cultures 'meeting the parents/family' is a big deal. It symbolizes a certain bond, taking a step to the next level. I know why he brought her home. He's Muslim. If he takes her out it will be seen as 'taking her out' (as in a date). If they stay at school that's only feeding into stagnant temptation. But, this isn't the Breakfast Club and they are not the Brady Bunch. She wants him. Bringing her home did not help his case.

Double standards don't help his mothers case other. They teach 'Samah' just not to trust her mothers judgment and to instead avoid telling her things. So now she lies about her whereabouts and is unaware of boundaries between genders. As for him...

At some point someone should probably tell him such actions are inappropriate? But, they won't. I give it a week before she mistakes the attention he gives her for love. I can give you the remedy but, if you won't take it then you are cursed. And so the cycle of ignorance continues.

I Think I Have A Problem, I Think I Think Too Much...

Stop me before I do something I'll regret. I often wonder why people use such phrases. It seems so simple if it's bad, haram, evil then avoid it. Easier said than done though. When I look back at my life and how my Islam and understandings in life have developed I can't help but frown [followed by a quick smile] upon the events that lead into who I am today. I think 'oh how foolish I was then'. Sometimes when I watch my siblings I even think to myself the famed "well, back in my day..." Hard to believe we even have a 'day'. A day when Doug and Spice Girls owned. Pluto was a planet and math was still done using pen and paper. Back then when I liked boys I bit them. Fun was considered outdoors, not in. Cell phones were 'mobiles', but only the elderly needed such. Life was good. Simple and complete was the world.

Today is a new dawning however. Pluto is gone and so are the bare necessities. Lion King is no longer a simple film about lions.It's considered inappropriate and laced with racial and sexual innuendos. You can't trust pen and paper. You can't trust the elderly either.I don't bite anymore but it seems they do. And cell phones=drama.

Boys. **sigh**

Long story short I loathe females who carry on with males in ways that could become easily misinterpreted. "It's haram I know but, we have good intentions." Apparently I'm the resident Gender Relations expert. I'm all for helping but, can someone, anyone, explain to me how you have a haram relationship for 'the sake of Allah (swt)'. Tell me how it's haram in a halal way. Tell me how you are 'just friends'. Tell me you know it's wrong and you are STILL going to do it. At least than you'd save the sin of lying. And, I can't completely say that I am not guilty. Sometimes though I want someone to yell some common sense at me. Because lately common sense isn't so common.

“Between men and women there is no friendship possible.There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.”

One of my now three best friends is male. was....male. He hasn't spoken to me for almost a month today. Suddenly no text, phone calls, IMs, visits on campus not even the occasional nuisance of a forwarded email. I can't help but think it's my own doing. Maybe the Facebook prank was a bit much. But now, there's nothing at all.To me he's dead or maybe it's the other way around. I miss him honestly. And part of me thinks it's good he's 'gone' maybe a sign. But, all of me knows better. He's trying to prove something. I wish I knew what though.

I wish his 15yr old brother wouldn't text me Lil' Wayne lyrics during ju'm3ah. I wish he didn't text calling me a slut. I wish his 'crew' didn't look at me so disappointed.More than that though I wish he would use his words instead of others assumptions. I wish I'd stop counting the days, and make the necessary change to have my buddy back. I wish that the people around me would stop saying it's because to him I'm more than a buddy. I wish I'd stop wishing.

I know what to do but, after reading this I think it'd be alot easier to 'accidentally' text him. I could 'accidentally,text everything I believe. 'Accidentally' I could express everything I know. Or I could accidentally give him a reason to block me from his existence.

This isn't the first time he's done the ignore-me game. He waits until I can't stand it and want to have a meltdown. Our battles should stop being repetitious forms of poetry. But, maybe that's the attraction. I'll just write this down with hopes that he'll understand. I can no longer be disciplined by the frustrations of an insecure man. Real friends will be there regardless.

Or at least I hope so.