- By Aziz Rana 

You know what bugs me?
You, and you and you
ALL of you, who just judge me
And I don’t get it; it doesn’t make sense to me.
What happened to the ever-respected quest for individuality?
Why are you attempting to assimilate me into the rest of society?
Why can’t I just be me, plain Amy?

Amy, my mom hates the name, one reason why I’ll keep it exactly the same
She prefers the “brown” version, Amina beti do this, and this, and this for me
What do I look like? A wind up nanny? Can’t she tell I have a life to lead?
People in my life that give two cents about me,
Unlike those people that call themselves my family

My grandma, has the nerve to tell me I’ve gone astray;
That I’ve put all their names into shame.
I mean whoopdidoo, I show my hair,
And whoopdidoo, I miss a prayer, here and there.
What does it matter? I haven’t been struck down by lighting have I?
Have I felt the wrath of God?
I think not, so I’m not changing for anybody.

 I wish someone could just get that into their thick skulls.
But me, I’m cool, I don’t let nonsense like that bother me.
I know people who worship me, and think I’m fine just the way I am.
I’m the kind of girl that gets any guy she wants;
Who has all the friends she needs, and many more that just need her.

My girls at school, they know how it is.
It’s ‘cause they don’t have to deal with stuff like this.
I mean when I have a guy, I can’t even bring him home!
My dad would get so ticked he’d turn as pale as bone;
Skin me, till I’m just skin and bone.
Nah, but I’d never let a thing like that happen.

Their just my study partners, you see.
My tutors in math, English and biology.
My parents have brought this upon themselves, not me!
I have to bring my outfits to school in a bag,
And I’ve missed too many parties, cause of my dad.
And the list goes on, and I get bored.

So let’s talk about what ticks me off the most, HIM!
Him, that guy, THE guy, whatever you want to call it.
He’s got to be dumb, or blind or something!
New to the school and he is so full of himself!
I mean who says they DON’T date? By that matter,
More importantly, who says that they don’t date me?

It’s ‘cause every time I see him, it’s the same exact feeling:
My mind it starts reeling, my words they become meaningless,
My heart it begins speeding, my knees begin weakening!
I feel as if someone has knocked the breath out of me,
As if someone has purposefully done this to me.

And I don’t want to have a weakness!
I don’t want him to be my weakness!
And the worst part is, I can’t imagine sharing,
None of my friends will understand these emotions.

I mean some girls fall for guys with their crazy ways,
All I can think about is his bearded face.
And most guys, all they care about is the number of girls they’ve bagged,
And that’s fine you see, but,
All he seems to think about is the number of samosas he’s had.
And some girls they go for the way he plays
All I’ve seen is the way he prays.

 In the school courtyard too!
With everyone watching,
And with that look in his eyes,
That smile on his face,
And the way you can just tell he’s a hundred million miles away.

But is it real? This intense belief, this modesty?
I mean who’s he trying to impress?
It ain’t getting me? Huh...

And so I ask him, Mohammed, that’s his name.
Mohammed, he corrects me, Puhlease!
And he tell me, he prays to impress God,
And those words they strike me.
Coupled with the love in his eyes, for the almighty,
And it gets to me.
Mainly, because I cannot comprehend, can’t see what he sees.

 So I ask him, where’s God when you need him?
Why can’t he stop all the wars?
How does he let millions suffer from famine?
Doesn’t he hear a mother’s cries when her child dies?
By gunshot, tsunamis, hurricanes?
Everything that he, the almighty, has brought upon us?
How can you Mohammad, I ask him
Want to impress the one who has done this to us?

Do you believe in God he asks me?
And I sit there and say well of course,
But, that doesn’t mean I have to do every single thing that he asks of me.
Then Mohammad looks at me, and it was a look of pity.
Those faith filled eyes, they welled up with tears for me.

And he began by saying,
“God is everywhere,
He is responsible for every happiness and joy you have ever felt.
Man brought upon himself the need for these atrocities.
It is merely mans lack of will that keeps them up with ease.
And you focus on the negativities,
What about that which happens in times of peace?”

“Those little miracles in this life you lead?
Have you ever seen the look in father’s eyes
As he holds his baby daughter for the very first time?
Have you seen the sun set and rise, and set and rise every day for the believers?
Tell me, how can you not be impressed with God,
Want to impress this God that has promised you an eternity of luxury?”

“Because that’s what this life is about, eternity.
That which will happen after this life is complete.
We shouldn’t live for monetary and momentary reasons.
Our very existence is but a gift from God!
This life is not a game so we should cease to play it.
It is a mere test the least we can do is give it our best.”

 Hearing his words, I was utterly awed.
It was as if I had been struck by lightning!
And I had felt the warmth of God.
And before I even knew it, tears were coming down my eyes.
And before I even knew it, I was by my mother’s side.
Pouring out my soul, cleansing my insides.

She guaranteed that if I were to repent, God would surely understand.
And that my sins, they would be erased.
And seeing that look, that smile on her face,
My mind it was uplifted, my soul it felt pure.
I felt as if I could conquer the world.
And as stupid as it sounds, it was all thanks to him.

 The next day at school, he was nowhere to be found.
Apparently, him and his family had once again moved out of town.
And that place in the courtyard where Mohammad once prayed,
Everyone knows, for me, that spot has been saved.

And when people mock, or question my change, I simply say,

“You know what bugs me?
You and you and you!
All of you who just judge me.
And I don’t get, it doesn’t make sense to me.
Whatever happened to my right for individuality?
Why are you attempting to assimilate me into the rest of society?
I am going to just be me, plain Amina Beti.”