Burkha Under My Lipstick Exclusive -

Sometimes, I walk into the mosque for Friday prayers, and the aunties look at my manicured nails and tinted lips with suspicion. They whisper about how the West has corrupted me. They don’t realize that the Quran they are holding teaches that God looks at your heart, not the pigment on your mouth.

It’s not the silence of oppression, as the pundits on television would have you believe. It’s the silence of being a walking contradiction. I am the girl who sips a caramel macchiato while discussing Tafsir. I am the woman who can negotiate a six-figure contract in a blazer, yet soften her voice when an elder enters the room. burkha under my lipstick

I wear the lipstick because I am allowed to be beautiful. I wear the burkha because I am more than just beauty. Sometimes, I walk into the mosque for Friday

And I am the woman who wears a slick coat of crimson lipstick over a mouth that prays for forgiveness. It’s not the silence of oppression, as the

Don't ask me to take off my burkha to fit into your office. And don't ask me to wipe off my lipstick to fit into your congregation.