By Shinoa Matos

Unwrap me
and find nothing extraordinary
except the ordinary, yet extraordinary me

No “freedom” to expose
My hair will tell you nothing
Evident are my truths
In speech, action, and thinking

My body’s crevices, belonging to my maker
Will give you not a drop of information
It is my attitude, my spirit, and faith
In which you can make your assessment, your evaluation

For you see, not a sliver of sound can be heard
Not a piece of personality can be seen
From all your walking models
Binging, prostituting, and exposing

It is you who needs unwrapping
From your material and immorality
Find comfort in your blessings
Rather than your ego, your vanity

Your curves can do nothing for you
When they’ve long since slackened
What will you do then
What “back-up” plan have you hastened?

It isn’t too late
Turn in your short skirts, those male-pleasing tops
Put on a Hijab,
and find comfort, find your God-given spot

Turn to Allah
he says you are the other half of humanity
Find pleasure in your place
In your blessings, in your modesty