Yasmen sat quietly at her father’s funeral,
She didn’t feel anything.
Her father never understood America.
“Too much Freedom for da wemens” he would say.
He brought his wife to Saint Paul, Minnesota
in the 90’s when Muslims were hated.
She always said that “Saint Paul was the friend of Jesus.”
Working as a cleaner Yasmen’s mom, Dilara would walk home alone
late at night through the park.
Yasmen’s mom was beaten to death by Muslim haters in 2001.
Raised by her Father she had to cover up with the Hajib everyday.
He wasn’t there much but when he was he would tell
stories about old days in Iran before the war with Iraq.
“ I remember the ruins of Persepolis, Amir Chakhmaq Square,
View of cupolas of the bazaars, a minaret and a windcatcher in Yazd province
When I was young we believed there would be peace in the world.
We believed that Iran would be free always.”
Yasmen waited until the people left the funeral.
She stood up and and unwrapped her head scarf.
She rolled it in a ball and threw it at her father’s grave.
She began yelling at the grave: “Ya Ibn el Sharmouta”
Oh yes you want us to use English.
Well it means “Son of a bitch”.
Father father father,you never understood America.
You never understood the freedom and the promise.
You never gave it a chance. Always talking about girls being servants,
Well I’m not your servant now.
Now is the day I burn the hajib on your grave.
Now is the time of my freedom and promise.
Let Allah be burned in Hell I am an American,
And Long live Minnesota.
Go the Golden Gophers!!!!