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I was tired of hearing how unappealing my looks were to potential love interests.
I had wasted precious time pinning after the “the brothers” while these men unashamedly, chose to date women from various ethnic backgrounds.
In my youthful folly, I foolishly chose to pine for my black prince. To say I was immediately smitten was quite the understatement. I watched as he paraded through the halls of church and other gatherings with one girl after the other, none whom looked like me. Tightly sewed in Brazilian and Malaysian locks would not miraculously transform me into Shakira or JLO or secure my place in Jay’s heart.
After Jay came Harry, the quintessential IBM boy next door.
Love was out there waiting for me and I would go to the ends of the earth to find it.
The problem with dating as a Muslim woman is almost always one of culture than religion.
Had I not stepped out of my comfort zone I would have allowed the fears of others, to shape my narrative.
When sexual advances were refused, I was swiftly discarded like yesterday’s trash in favor of others who were much more willing.
Dating, courtship and love I soon learned, could be a painfully messy, heart wrenching affair.
From then on, I chose to never allow the crippling fears, insecurities and prejudices of others to ravage my flickering spark of hope.
I was no longer the brainwashed mammy foot soldier of yester-year.