Hajar in America

We came over together
I spoke no English
He had a mission: grad school, then it’s back to save the masses

Here I am now with the baby on my hip,
alone in Newark, on foot, looking for milk at the all-night Exxon
I hear he’s marrying her,
the teaching assistant with the frosted hair

I have to learn how to drive.

Hijab Scenes #7

No I’m not bald
No I’m not from that country where women can’t drive cars
No I would not like to defect. Thank you,
I’m already American
What else would you like me to explain
relevant to my opening a bank account,
buying insurance,
reserving a seat on a flight?
Yes, I speak English
Yes I’m legal
Yes I carry explosives
They’re called words
and if you don’t get up off your assumptions,
They’re going to blow you away

How to cite this article:

Mohja Kahf "Poetry," Middle East Report 205 (Winter 1997).

For 50 years, MERIP has published critical analysis of Middle Eastern politics, history, and social justice not available in other publications. Our articles have debunked pernicious myths, exposed the human costs of war and conflict, and highlighted the suppression of basic human rights. After many years behind a paywall, our content is now open-access and free to anyone, anywhere in the world. Your donation ensures that MERIP can continue to remain an invaluable resource for everyone.

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