I only let wind hit my face, not your judgements, not today.
like a soft whisper of the hurricane,
writhing like a troubled flower in pain.
writhing like a troubled flower in pain.
I Will Only Let The Wind Hit My Face
A fine art piece on laying judgements and placing a veil over them. The piece talks about the preordained prejudice veiling Muslims in the world, especially the female gender as they are directly identified through the hijab. It talks about them holding their own ground inspite of this zephyr of stereotypes; notions of being oppressed, of being weak and submissive, of not able to stand abreast to men within the religion, of not being to let wind touch her skin. Ultimately, this piece emboldens the statuesque spirit of femininity in Islam, standing tall, Trumping these constant currents of opposition.