Who is the Islamic School Generation? – A Poem Written on March 15, 2008 by Leen Jaber
They trained us well
But we knew ‘better.’
Some of us had faith in their words.
And now they’re happy.
But how about the rest?
How about the one with all the divorces?
The one who’s addicted to the bottle?
The one with many lovers?
The one who gets high?
And the one who has made jail their friend?
What did we learn Mr. Principal?
How to wrap a dead body so it’s not desecrated?
Or the best way to make wudu?
Maybe the boys learned how to wear a kufi.
Maybe that girl learned how to drown her sorrows in cognac and cigarettes.
Did you all know that you taught her that?
Instead of teaching the truth about life,
You made us think life was something we could all handle.
Do you know one of my classmates overdosed 3 times?
Trying to kill herself.
Do you care?
No, because you know “Fatima” and “Ali” and “Asma” and “Omar” are prizes.
Well, she hates hijab.
She hates everything that told her to have ‘faith.’
Did you cover that in your Friday sermon?
Did you tell us what to do when we wanted to kill ourselves?
Did you tell us what to do when our spouses cheated on us?
Or how to pay the bills when all of our money goes to therapy?
Did you tell us what to do when strangers in a cab molest us?
Did you tell us how to express our sexuality?
Did you tell us how to react when our classmates are dying of cancer?
Did you tell us what to do when our bodies are screaming for expression
But our brain tells us to subdue it?
Oh Islamic Foundation
None of you immigrants know our pains.
You know nothing of our generation.
You wave scripture in front of us to save our souls.
But some of us are still damned.
This is for you.
Know some of us are married to Hindus.
Some of us alcoholics,
Some of us crazy,
And you failed.
Some of us dead.
Thanks for a job well done.