Another Life, Another Me.
If it were entirely up to me
no lineage, no watching eyes
no scripture written in my blood
maybe I would live differently
Not because I hate who I am
but because the mind wanders
and I let it
Maybe I would be bisexual
Maybe I’d live on an island
where no one asked who I belonged to
just whether I slept well
whether I felt joy
whether I danced when it rained
I would wear fabric that breathes
that kisses the wind when I walk
Maybe there’d be cleavage
long hair
red lipstick that doesn’t ask for permission
Not for men
not for protest
just because I could
Maybe I’d never marry
Not because marriage is bitter
but because solitude would be sweet
a quiet life with books
and my mother
sipping tea beside me
until we both turned silver
Maybe I’d marry a Yoruba man
a kind, non-Muslim man
with laughter in his eyes
and no need to convert me
to anything but peace
Not because my family hates Yoruba men
they don’t
They simply fear what they can’t fully bless
And silence often replaces approval in houses like mine
Maybe I would have a child
through a surrogate
Because childbirth frightens me
Not the child
but the breaking
the blood
the pain that clings to silence
They say it's sacred
But I know pain when I see it
and I know fear when it visits
This imagined life lives in me
like an echo from another world
not sinful
just suspended
A version of myself
I visit on quiet nights
in whispered daydreams
in places far from home
where my scarf is loose
my smile wide and the air does not ask me to explain myself
But I am Muslim
I say that with both faith and surrender
And that changes everything
Not as a prison
but as a path I chose
a shape I live within
because I love Allah
even when I don’t understand all of Him
So this is not rebellion
It is just reflection
A softness toward the other lives
that could have been mine
if I were born different
or chose differently
But I wasn't
And I didn’t
And that too is love.