The Last Remaining Cowboys

I would have preferred to been born a woman in the Middle East, India, Afghanistan, even Iraq. I dare you to find another Western, possibly even Eastern woman, who might say such a thing. In this day and age, Asians do more than physically migrate to the West. Before most even set afoot here, their minds have been swayed en masse towards the ‘freedoms’ and ‘liberties’ offered up by the West, the more leisurely, seemingly, ‘better half’ of the world.1

To many here in the U.S., Islam is a word that evokes mystery, fear, and apprehension. Just thinking about it, the oppressive veil seemingly covers their eyes, suffocates their breath, and inhibits their voices. I try not to push anyone, even my own family, into understanding my new faith or the sentiments it has evoked within me. Like most things, life is better left in balance. The fulcrum exists somewhere and when found shifts slowly under our feet.2

I have made a dramatic change from the person I was once. I surely don’t deserve an award for it or any recognition whatsoever. My punishment is renewed isolation. I have allowed myself to become a victim to the freedoms and liberties my world has granted me. Yes, I have been abused, some would say I still am; however, ultimately, I am my own victim. In my opinion, seemingly ‘oppressive’ societies were created to protect people like myself, those people who view society’s boundaries as objects to be disintegrated at whim or folly. 3

Look at me! I’m standing naked before you. Don’t you want this beautiful white woman? Now squint. You can barely see them, but in the dark there are scars and indentations all over me. You will never fill this hollow void within me and you know that. Will you take me anyway and deepen the gulch, the place where body meets soul? Or, are you one of the last remaining cowboys in the Wild Wild West? Tell me.4