Islam as a disease...

I was born Islam positive. I never realized I was living with a disease until I moved to the US of A. You see, in Kenya it wasn't such a big deal being a Muslim. It was widely accepted and it was not unnatural to encounter many like me. On my first day of school, the American children welcomed me as one of their own, some even reaching out to touch me as if nothing was wrong. They were not afraid of my disease. One Tuesday, a few suffering from a mutant strain of Islam decided to change history and the way many living with the disease were viewed over the world.
The hijab I wore for a year previously no longer veiled my head alone. It covered an entire nation with ignorance and contempt for my people. Some saw it as a challenge. I knew things would be different but it finally sank in when my teacher pulled me aside and handed me a pass.

"Please allow this student to leave class five minutes early."

A few days ago, it would have been something I held with pride, my ticket to freedom. That day, I shoved the bold red pass into my backpack without giving it a second look. I didn't want their charity. An incident would change my mind about it and in the weeks that followed, that pass became my friend. It throbbed in my pocket as the minutes winded down to the end of class. I would give the teacher a quick flash of the red emblem and darted out of the room. That is how I spent seventh grade, afraid.
I was not the only one-- it seems like the country went into mass hysteria because they were afraid of my disease. They merged both mutant strains of Islam and mine together, they saw no difference in our symptoms. So here I was, 11 years old, with a target on my face and a bounty on my head. All because the name of my doctor sounds different from theirs, and despite the fact that He is in the same profession.
The target has faded but the bounty remains.

"I only fear God
Know the weapons of the weak
The weakness of the hard"
-Lupe Fiasco (The Emperor's Soundtrack)