Dare 2 B Different- Brittany B.

Dare to be different, black girl.

Living in a, not so black world,

where beauty is measured by European standards. Where our features are only accepted if they’re painted on another woman.

Dare to be different, black girl.

Living in a, not so black world,

where we get trumped over by people every day. Trumped over by our own black men too,

who feel as though every ethnicity of woman is more exotic and superior than our own.

As if intertwining with a foreign beauty is an upgrade to life, not realizing that black women are the most exotic women across the world.

Dare to be different, black girl.

Living in a, not so black world,

where you also have to compete with your own just to be seen. While still in fear of being judged and put down because you don’t measure up to the new black standard.

Where you’re always being labeled angry, or crazy when you exercise your right to feel!

Where being natural is the new norm, and you’re seen as self-loathing if you wear hair weaves and colored contacts…

Dare to be different, black girl!

Living in a, not so black world,

where everyone wants to be like us.. but they don’t want to deal with being like us.

Know that we are sprinkled with gold and coconut butter fairy dust. You better embrace that melanin that was given to you!

Let that beautiful pigment and them kinky curly coils shine through. Don’t ever let a man or anyone define you. Don’t let anyone keep you from being the divine you.

Dare to be different, black girl!

Living in a, not so black world,

filled with Sandra Bland’s, Michelle Obama’s, Viola Davis’s, Beyonce’s, and Taraji P’s. There are many more black women I could define as Queens,

and the list can go on for centuries.

Beauty, brains, and nothing but fierceness topped with strength. We go to war everyday fighting a continuous battle to keep us, and our black men safe.

See, I dare to be different everyday.

Because I am a black girl living in a not so black world.

I try my best to fight the stereotypes, be above what the media says I am, and set my own definition of black girl magic. I am unbothered by the whispers of what people think I should be, or what they think of me: as should you.

When you hear those whispers,

see those long stares,

hear the judgements and,

read the labels:

continue to walk with a stride.

Keep your head up high,

with that melanin pride! and,

Dare 2 B different, black girl

living in this, not so black world.

*Brittany B. is a licensed Ohio based cosmetologist. You can follow her on IG @beeunique_stylz

Embrace Your Natural Afro!

As relevant as natural hair has been, there’s so few depictions of naturalistas with 4C coils flaunting or teaching How to Take Care of 4C hair.

Why is it that elongated curls are praised more than the solidified or defined afro? We may never find out but what will figure out is how best to take care of the 4C that the media neglects.

Many of us are product obsessed and have tried anything that had ‘for Natural Hair’ on the label without conducting much research. You may have done the big chop thinking your fro would grow back softer, longer and more defined. You may have washed your hair with eggs to add protein and strip the perms that once ruled your roots. You most likely have three different brands in your cabinet that cost you nearly $100.

This isn’t a bad thing, it’s a learning phase.


4C hair isn’t for the lazy.

Let me say that again, 4C hair isn’t for the lazy!

To tend to your fro and be consistent with your coils it’s a must that you take the necessary precautions to ensure healthy growth, natural shine, high definition and elasticity.

1) Research-

It’s important to research a products history before using. What type of hair does the person reviewing the product have? How long has the company been manufacturing the product? Who owns the company?

2) Testing-

When trying a new product, you should wait until after the second wash or two months in between to avoid unnecessary breakage. Allow some time for your 4C hair to adjust to the chemicals in the product to see how work for your hair type over time. Just as you trained your hair to wrap and unwrap into its silky straight blowout, you must train your hair’s pattern.

3) Nourishment-

To aid in the growth of your fro I recommend using Jamaican Black Castor Oil on your roots and edges (front/back) pre and post wash. Raw Natural Shea Butter should be used with your twists outs, if you’re not allergic to it. Sulfate free and non-foaming shampoo is the only shampoo for 4C hair. You can wash as much as necessary or as little as needed.

Do not fear the shears! Go get your dead ends clipped quarterly, and you may need to go more often than that. Unless you decide, after consistently using a product/brand, to go a year or so without a cut. That part is solely up to how fast your hair grows and how quick your ends split.

4) Consistency-

Once you’ve seen how well the product works on your hair, stick to it.

Don’t add another brand that promises to assist in the enhancement of the other. (Unless they both become a part of your regimen). Stick to the brand consistently: the curl pudding, the curl activator, the conditioner, the shampoo, the mousse, the co-wash, the leave in conditioner, the detangler etc. It matters more than you know.

Tips: Cantu is the best brand of products for soft, thick 4C hair in conjunction with natural oils. Mostly mixed girls with 4C stand by this brand because it dries out the extra oil that is in their hair and gives them the power to control how much oil is being added.

Mielle is great for all black and brown naturalistas! The owner has a variety of lines and concoctions that are tailored for specific coils and curl patterns.

If you use Cantu on a regular basis then I recommend:

Shea butter, Cantu curling cream and a natural oil for twist outs. For defined coils in an up-do puff you shold use: Cantu curl activator and a lightweight gel to seal the coils. (For next day bounce back or a two day old twist out, use the Cantu Curl revitalizer).

Part Two

Our First Date

March 5, 2017 4:00pm


“Napping. What you doing?” I replied.

“Getting some things together.  It’s my bday so it’s a supreme situation all day.”

“Happy Birthday! You’re on the move, meanwhile I’m playing mom trying to get the other two up. Foxy in here singing and cooking like somebody auntie.”

“I feel you, well hit me up when y’all get moving.”

“Bet, we have massage appointments this afternoon, so we need to get moving soon.”

I laid in bed for twenty minutes as I mapped out the day plans. Other than our massages and our plan to dine at a soul food place, there was nothing else to do on a Sunday.


“So where is your appointment at? I can meet you there?”

“It’s at Essence Spa but that plan is scrapped because their electricity is out.”

“Your fake name too ha. Well, Damn. So what now? We going to the David Copperfield show you want to come?” he asked.

“Shh. It’s a real one, in a way. What time? Yes. How much are tickets?”

“I can get yours but I dunno if your friends want to come or not.”

“What time? It’s most likely going to be my twin and I.”

9 o’clock. $132. I got yours and it’s a table for four so your friend would be sat somewhere nearby if she came.”

If she came? Of course she’s coming. I’m not getting kidnapped out here, oh no.

“Okay, that’s perfect!”

When my Twin looked alive, functioning and welcoming of dialogue, I asked her to come. Since it wasn’t something she was dying to see, I offered to pay for half of her ticket. When we looked online, there was only one seat left in the theater. The seat was directly in front of his table.  

Too perfect.

“We literally found the only empty seat in the theater. I will see you later. We also decided to go for massages, they said they will light candles and the electricity may come back in during our sessions. I’ll text you after.”

“Okay cool. Just hit me up. We can meet at my place before?”

“Possibly, we have dinner plans. Where are you located?”

“The Cosmopolitan right now. 66th floor.”

“Okay. I’ll check back in with you later.”



We ended up meeting at will call.

“Kaya, Ian. Ian, Kaya.”

“Hi nice to see you again.” He said giving her a half hug. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“I did. Those massages today were definitely needed.” She responded.

“Are y’all excited to see this?”

“Oh for sure. I’ve never been to a magic show.” I replied.

“Next in line.” The will call personnel called out to us. We moved forward. “Name?”

“A. Jackson.”

Ian chuckled.

“ID?” the personnel asked with her hand out.

I handed my ID over to her. “What’s funny Ian?”

“Nothing Ms. Jackson.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Here’s your ticket.” The personnel handed the ticket to my twin.

“Tell me what’s funny. I want to laugh too.”

“Okay. I can show you better than I can tell you,” he said as he removed his ID from his wallet, “My last name is Jackson too.”

“No way. Let me see that.” I reached for his ID. Sure enough, we shared the same last name.

“You know…”

“What, Mr. Jackson?” I teased.

“Nothing.” He said as he led us into the theater.

Inside the theater I was reintroduced to the couple from the previous night. I slid into the booth and sat next to the woman with Ian on my right. My twin sat directly in front of me and the lights went low.

David Copperfield and his crew put on a comedic and shocking magical experience. During an interactive portion Ian and I got a little cozy. I would go into detail about it but, you should go experience it for yourself. At some point, Copperfield brought out the cutest green foreigner I’d ever seen, and Ian joked that it looked like me.

When the show ended they invited us out on the strip, and my twin suggested I kick it with them since I wasn’t staying the whole week.

Absolutely not!

We made tentative plans to link up the next day instead. Completely satisfied with a one-time date in Vegas, if the plans fell through it would’ve been fine by me.

My twin and I went back to the timeshare and they all went on their way. We continued to text throughout the night until I fell asleep.

“Don’t forget to let me know when you wake!”

“I’m definitely not going to forget about yo sexy ass.”

Sure Vegas is sin city but with that temptation and my addiction, my willpower was winning. Winning big.

“Hey wyd.”


I woke up to a smiling creeper Foxy. “Are you making breakfast?” I asked.

“Ha no. We ran out of breakfast food. Dude I’m salty. I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“There’s nothing.” She whined. Kaya pulled the covers over her head.

“Shhhh. Let’s not wake the bear.” I giggled. I looked down at my phone and cackled.


“I got the booty call message. LOOK!”

“Ahhhhh. He thought!” we twerked in the kitchen.

“Look! We still have shit.” I swung the cabinet open wider and held up the liquor.

“Dude. I know you are not.”

“It’s Vegas. The V in Vegas stands for Vacation, which translates to ‘let’s get wasted’. I’m making a pitcher of sex on the beach.”

“Just waking up.” I responded as I grabbed more ingredients for breakfast.

“So how did your date go last night?” Justice spoke from across the room.

“It went well, surprisingly. I was mad comfortable,” I said, “But peep, that magic show was dope as fuck. I wish I could’ve taken photos.”

“How was he? Was there a vibe?” Foxy asked.

“Yes there was a vibe. What exactly that is, idk. Think he wants the cat. He was actually the perfect gentleman though. It was chill. Note, I didn’t get kidnapped.” My phone buzzed.

“Lol it be like that. I wanted to see you again before I left.”

I started the blender. “Yea, I totally don’t remember falling asleep either. And me too.”

“Ima send a Lyft to bring you over here. If you’re down….”

I poured my drink into a glass and bounced over to Justice, jumping on her. “Am I down sis? AM I DOWN?” I laughed showing her the message.


“Nah. Can’t eem do it bra.” Foxy chimed in.

I woke the sleeping bear from her half slumber. “What do you think, should I entertain this?”

She sucked her teeth at me. “Lex. You already know you’re not going.”

I laughed. “But you know, maaaaybe it could just be a link up. We could hang out by the pool. Have a pool side chat. Couple drinks. Maybe some fruit.”

We cackled and I heard the others laughing too. “You know damn well if you go over there, you’re fucking.”

“True. But I’m not fucking. Hashtag, celibate.” “What are you trying to do?” I finally responded.

“Well we got ‘til 11… just chill, watch a movie, I can give a decent massage. See where it goes from there… Idk if you’re drinking this early or not but that’s always available lol food etc.”

“Hmmm. This sounds like some fun kind of trouble. I’m trying to behave though..”

“There’s no such thing as behaving in Vegas. This is sin city. Besides, I dunno when I’ll see you again and we should make the most of each moment.”

“All facts lol”

“So send me your address and let me know when you’re ready?”

“I want to see you too. Outside. Daylight. Where the good women roam.”

“Lol bet. What would you like to do beautiful? My flight leaves at 1 and I have to check out at 11.”

“Brunch or gamble?”

“I don’t have an appetite, but we can definitely do something slow. You play poker?”

“Na, I only know how to play blackjack.”

“Okay. Your casino? Mine? I’m about to get dressed.”

“Mine. Southpoint. You can bring your bags here and leave straight to the airport. 9940 S Las Vegas Blvd.”

“I’m on the way.”


“Alright y’all he is on the way and we’re going to the casino over yonder.”

“He’s coming in here?” they asked in unison.

I looked around. “Uhm. No. Ima just set his bag in here but no.”

“What will we do today?”

“Idk. It’s my last day, idk if y’all want to turn up or explore. Y’all have the remainder of the week to do whatever. Just let me know. How’s the sex on the beach Foxy?”

“It’s good good. Now that y’all bitches up I’m going to play music.” When the beat dropped we had a twerk session.

He arrived, I took his bag in and forced him to drink a sex on the beach with me. We walked over to the nearest Casino for more drinks and gambling. There we discussed our lives, careers, goals, family and weird quirks. Time dwindled, and he had to get going.

Back at the timeshare I brought a chair into the foyer. I sat on his lap, cowgirl. We waited for his Lyft to arrive and to kill time we talked some more. I must’ve been staring hard because he asked,

“What are you looking at?”

To which I responded, “Those juicy ass lips.”

He looked down at his phone, two minutes until arrival.

We kissed until the Lyft was marked as here.

“You know I can cancel this Lyft and reschedule this flight.”

“Lol no. Not a good idea. You should get back.”

“Damn.” We kissed again.

I gave him his bag, “Goodbye.”

“I’ll see you soon.” he replied.

I laughed.

“Thank you for being the perfect gentleman. Have a safe flight!”

“You’re welcome. It got tough at the end there but no problem lol it was very nice meeting you. Hit me up when you’re on the way home.”

“I agree and okay, will do.”

There’s No Place like Home: Through the Lens of a Palestinian American Girl

Butheina arrived in Palestine with her family three weeks ago and she still could not stop crying. She was forced to leave her beloved America because of her father’s clients in Palestine threatening to bomb their relative’s homes if he did not come back and help them. In between sobs she heard her father on the phone with her cousin Jo; who had been taking her to school everyday since her fourth day in Palestine.

“Butheina told me what happened today, I told you that she is not a part of this Jo. Do not put my daughter’s life in harm’s way again or I will see to it that you are the next ploy on the list.” Silence. “What? You are? Who told you this? What do you have to do?”

“Butheina!” Her mother called for her to come down for dinner. Butheina wiped her eyes and walked out the closet of a room. She had to go down the steep stairs to the small kitchen. 

In the kitchen there was an island, much like the one back home in America, yet where the dining room table would be there was a circular board made of wood where the vegetable biryani, qidra and naan sat steaming hot. Around the wooden circle there were five large pillows on which the family sat to have their dinner.

“Is everything alright Butheina?” her mother, Mrs. Humdoh asked.

“Yes, I just really miss America. When are we going back home?”

“Butheina, I have explained it twice this week already. You are thirteen years old please stop acting like a child. Wash your hands and come sit down.” She said,

“Jamaal, dinner is ready!” Mrs. Humdoh yelled out to her husband who was a few feet away in the living room. A boisterous woman. Which is why she has not gone out much since the move to Palestine, her mother was not the type of woman to hold her tongue and Mrs. Humdoh feared that if she came into contact with an Israeli soldier that it would not end well. She had already had to chew a man out on the second day for trying to humiliate Butheina for wearing a pair of pants. Luckily, Jidda, Butheina’s grandmother prepared for her arrival and had gone shopping for all of her necessities for living as a Muslim girl. 

The family sat around the circular wood, table, and ate their dinner quietly until Mr. Humdoh interrupted the silence.

“Butheina, tomorrow I want you to stay home. I need to have a conversation with Jo before I allow him to take you to school again and I do not want you traveling alone.”

“But I have a test on Friday and tomorrow we are reviewing.” Butheina pleaded.

“Jamaal, that is not fair to her and her schooling.” Mrs. Humdoh chimed in.

“Jenell, shh! I will discuss the circumstances with you after dinner. What I said is final, she will stay home and study from here.” He continued to eat the tofu, rice, cauliflower and broccoli mixture atop the garlic dough.

When they finished eating Mrs. Humdoh sent Butheina away for leisure time, which was a relief for her, for once she did not have to wash or dry the dishes. Butheina decided to go upstairs to her room and play with her bunny rabbit. In her room she had a desk, a full sized bed decked out in animal print, cheetah being her preference, and on top of her dresser drawers sat the bunny’s cage. In America she

had a television in that place instead, but customarily in Palestine that was not normal and in case of visitors her father did not want to be judged. She played with the furry white creature in solitary, speaking to it as if it were her best friend Alyssa.

“I just don’t get it. Why did we have to come back here? Why didn’t your family ask to keep me with them, I thought they loved me like a daughter?” she waited for a response, which was the blank stare of a fast breathing carrying nibbling mammal. “Want to see what mom bought me yesterday? It is a new hijab, now I have navy brown, black, orange and green. Want to play dress up?” With the same response as before, she picked the bunny up and took her dirty orange hijab from the laundry basket that was beside her bedroom door and wrapped it around the bunny. She held the bunny tightly in her arms and danced with it. “Oh Michael, I absolutely adore the way you dance. So graceful and gentle, dancing with you is much better than having fried worms and grass.” She chuckled to herself.


“You eat it first!” Butheina yelled to Michael looking down at the fried worm on the paper plate. It was the summer before her move to Palestine and he had asked her on a picnic.  Little did she know, at age twelve he was still eating fried worms, grass and other insects he though were tasty.

“Fine, I will.” Michael picked up the work and placed it on his tongue for her to see before he swallowed it whole. “Yum.”

“Ew, that is so gross!” she said squirming as he tried to grab a hold of her. They went off into a laughing frenzy before she eluded him and ran. He chased her across the

grass and into the trees where she stopped. The sun had begun to set and her brown eyes were catching every ray left. 

“Butheina, I like you.” He said as he kissed her as fast as he could and turn to run away.

Shocked and standing in disbelief she said, “I like you too”, to his back as he was already yards away.


After getting tired of playing with the bunny alone, Butheina put the furry mammal back in its cage. Then she walked out of her room across the hall to the bathroom to get ready for bed. In the mirror she looked at her complexion, no blemishes, no wrinkles, no baggy eyes but they were still bloodshot red from her crying fit hours ago. That was the one thing she hated about crying, it would show on her face for far too long. She slipped out of her school clothes and placed the green and blue pinstripe button down shirt and navy blue pants on the toilet; then grabbed her navy blue silk pajamas from the hanger behind the bathroom door. When she got them on, she brushed her teeth, put her long brown hair up in a ponytail, grabbed her school uniform from the toilet seat and went back to her room.

“Butheina?” Mrs. Humdoh came around the corner into her room.

“Yes mama?”

“I have just finished speaking with your father and he is right, it is best for you to stay home tomorrow. But I also came in her to tell you why.” She motioned for

Butheina to get into bed, then she tucked her daughter under the covers and sat next to her. “Butheina, do you understand what is going on in this country.”

“Yes.” Butheina knew exactly what was going on, there was a fight for the land between Palestinians and Israeli Jews, the Palestinians who have been here for centuries were fighting to keep the Israeli from seizing their property, their government and their lives. It was all because the Israeli people saw this area as their promised land and they were willing to do anything to get it. They first started by bombing schools, when they were closed as  to not harm the children but scare the community into leaving, when that didn’t work they started rioting, damaging property and making threats. The government had finally stepped in and separated the two groups but to the surprise of the Palestinians, the government allowed for Israeli soldiers to monitor the area.  Over the years a wall was built to separate Gaza from the West Bank area where the Israeli had begun to occupy, the area in which the schools, shops and government agencies were located. 

“Well, you should know that this is a war zone and I want you to be able to protect yourself”, she said as she handed her daughter a bottle of pepper spray, “This is for protection only, do not play with it and do no spray it unless you are in real danger. That does not mean if a soldier yells at you but if he points his gun at you, use it. Now, Jo is helping organize certain missions and he is involved with a Palestinian group that is for the protection of our community. We do not know what they have planned for him tomorrow but we cannot risk you being out with him in case it is something serious. I hope you understand?”

“Yes mama, I understand.”

The next day Butheina woke up around noon, according to the clock that sat next to her bunny. She got out of bed and put on some pants and a t-shirt then headed downstairs in search of a snack. 

“Good morning my child.” She was greeted by her mother, who was in the kitchen making falafel and fool two of Butheina’s favorite dishes. 

When it was done, she satin the living room on the couch with her mother, something her father would never allow, and they turned on the television. The only thing that was on was the news and according to the reporter the Israeli soldiers were in a brawl with a few Palestinian men who did not have the proper paperwork to go through the wall into West Bank. The brawl resulted in three deaths, none of which were Israeli soldiers. Mrs. Humdoh turned off the TV and looked at Butheina with worry. Although she said nothing Butheina could tell that she too was scared for the Butheina’s well being in this country.

After lunch, Butheina turned the television back on when Mrs. Humdoh went upstairs to nap. There was news about a minister who went into hiding, the Israeli soldier who was assigned to monitoring his movements lost sight of him and they had not seen him in days. The minister was well known for organizing a group that promised to keep Palestinians safe and they also promised to eventually blow down that wall so that the people could return to having a normal life. Butheina then feel asleep.

Hours later she was awaken by shouting voices outside of the front door.

“What the hell do you want me to do? I have no purpose for being here any longer, I’m returning to America when Butheina is on break.” She heard her father say.

“You will remain here until the war is won Jamaal! Nobody in this area knows the ins and outs we need you to keep creating identities so that these men can move freely.”
“But it is against the law!”

“Whose law Jamaal?! Not ours, they came into our homes, our lives, and they took everything away. We are living like prisoners and you don’t seem to care.”

“It is not my problem, my duty is to my family. Your threats are the only reason I returned, and soon enough I will have enough money to take and support my mother, father and brother. You cannot control me.”

“You will force my hand? The hand that wrote the letter that got you into your fancy school?”

“I am forever grateful for that but you must understand, everything is not worth risking your life over. The Americans, the live right next to me, they judge my clothing, my skin, my language, the smell of my food but they still have to live next to me, they cannot harm me. They may hate me, they may fear me but they cannot harm me. It is possible and doable to live with the Israeli.”

“Not when they are terrorizing you, you know American laws don’t apply here.”

“Then run for an office, get an education!”

“Just like an American, you only fight when you want to and in the ways that suit your life. You don’t want to help, fine. But you will carry out this mission. I need those papers by midnight. I will be back later.” The man said.

Butheina ran away from the door and up the steps to her bedroom, then she heard the front door open.

“I’m home! I have falafel! Butheina?” Mr. Humdoh called out.

Butheina ran downstairs in an instant, jumping into her fathers arm and embracing him in a bear hug. He hugged her back and kissed her on the forehead.

“I brought you falafel.”

“We had that for lunch.” Mrs. Humdoh said as she started down the stairs to greet her husband. 

“There is never a such thing as too much falafel in one day.” Butheina replied, eager to have some more. With the falafel they ate left overs from the previous night. Then the Humdoh’s cleaned together before getting ready for bed.

Butheina was the first one up the stairs and in turn, the first to have the bathroom. She showered and put on a fresh pair of silk pajamas before brushing her teeth. After she was done, in her room her parents sat on her bed. She joined them and they all knelt in prayer. 

“Praise be Allah”, her father began, “Please watch over Butheina as she will be away from our sight tomorrow. I pray that she make it to and from school safely. Amen.”

“Amen.” Butheina and Mrs. Humdoh said in unison. 

The next morning Butheina woke up for school at six a.m. She put on her pinstriped button down and the navy pants, then she tied the navy blue hijab around her head and beneath her chin. Then she put on her shoes and grabbed her pink backpack from the floor. Downstairs her mother had a banana and peanut butter sandwich waiting for her. To avoid being late she took the sandwich to go. Kissing her mother and father goodbye she walked outside to meet up with Jo.

“Little cousin! Let’s go, we have got to get a move on.” He said as he began walking briskly. Down the street and around the second corner they made it to the bus stop just in time. The bus was still loading passengers. They hopped on together and sat next to each other on the same side as the driver. The bus pulled off and drove out of the town to the next bus stop where six people were waiting.

The people boarded the bus and the bus sat and waited again. The bus would make two more stops before the first checkpoint. If they had missed that bus they would not have seen another until noon and by the time that one made it through the two checkpoints school would be long over. 

The bus pulled to the last stop and the people that got on overcrowded the it so Jo gave up his seat so that a woman could sit down. The bus then made its way to the first checkpoint, which was two miles away from the last stop. Butheina looked out the window and saw that there were a lot more soldiers than usual walking around. They were all dressed in fatigue and carrying military assault rifles. The bus pulled to a stop and two soldiers climbed aboard to check the ID’s of each passenger.

When the soldier approached Butheina, she pulled her wallet from her backpack and proved that she was a temporary citizen and had the right to travel; her cousin Jo showed the same soldier his proof as well. At the back of the bus there was commotion but the man and the soldier were arguing in Arabic and Butheina could barely understand.

“What’s going on?” she asked Jo.

“The man doesn’t have his ID.”

The soldier grabbed the man by his shirt and dragged him off the bus where they continued to argue outside. The other soldier finished checking the rest of the passengers’ ID’s then hopped off of the bus and directed the driver to continue through the large wall.

On the other side of the wall there were three lines of cars and two long lines of people, one full of men and one full of women. Hundreds of soldiers all in fatigue with assault rifles just like before, were monitoring every car and everyone. Butheina watched out the window as soldiers walked through the line checking ID’s and verbally assaulting the people. One soldier pulled a woman from the line and escorted her to the building attached to the wall, Butheina never saw them come out because the bus pulled through the checkpoint and proceeded to the next bus stop, which was Butheina’s school.

“I will be back right after your last bell, as usual. Have a good day.” Jo said as he waved to Butheina.

Butheina got off of the bus and walked into the school building, it was packed inside full of small and big kids, she wen to her classroom. Inside of the room there were at least thirty students. She found a desk to sit at which was between two girls wearing black hijabs; in fact she was the only girl wearing a navy blue hijab. The bell rang it was 8 and time for class to begin. The teacher, Mr. Pol walked in and began talking about algebraic formulas and how to calculate long hand.

After each class ended, five minutes later another teacher would walk into the room. Classes lasted forty-five minutes, the teacher erased the board and then went on to their next class then another teacher would come in to teach a different subject and this same routine would repeat until the last class of the day. In Palestine, there was no recess and no time to talk in between classes to friends, which wasn’t a problem for Butheina since she didn’t have any yet. At three o’clock on the dot the bell rang and Butheina did just as her cousin said. When she made it outside he was standing by a different bus. 

“Butheina, let’s go, the bus is about to leave.” It wasn’t the same bus because they did not have regular school buses, just public transportation.

The two boarded the bus and the driver closed the door, waited for them to sit down and then it pulled away from the school. This bus didn’t go back the way that they came to school.

“Where is this bus taking us?”

“The checkpoint got shut down due to another brawl. We have to go to a different one.” Jo replied, “I’m not sure which way we are taking but if anything happens remember to keep your head down.”

Butheina looked around the bus and noticed that she was the only girl on it. All of the men on the bus including the driver and Jo were wearing matching clothes. 

“Jo, what’s going on? Why are you all dressed the same?”

“So that we can confuse the soldiers.”


“We are trying to sneak the minister through the checkpoint, he was banned for preaching against the Israeli soldiers.”

“Which one is the minister?”

“It is better that I do not tell you.” Jo said, “Here, take this. Just in case anything goes wrong.” He handed Butheina a piece of paper.

Butheina took the paper and held on to it, tight. Then she looked around the bus to see if she could pinpoint him herself but it was nearly impossible, the men all looked similar some even had the same haircut and beard length. When they reached the checkpoint she could see that there was twice the amount of soldiers than the first checkpoint.

“It’s okay Butheina just relax, the soldiers won’t bother you.”

The bus got to the beginning of the line of cars and a soldier boarded and began checking ID’s, this time he started from the back and worked his way forward. Butheina handed him her ID, Jo followed then the next man and so on.

When the soldier approached the man in the fifth seat, a man from another line began screaming at a woman from the next line. Butheina looked out the window to see another man throwing fruit at a group of soldiers. The Israeli soldiers made their way over to the commotion when two cars sped from the back of the line and started doing donuts near the middle, a military truck pulled up from out of nowhere and began shooting at the cars. More soldiers came out and began moving people out of line when the soldier on the bus started yelling in Arabic at the man in the fifth seat, Jo pulled a gun from his waist and shot the soldier.

The bus driver stepped on the gas and began driving through the opening in the wall then continued to pick up speed as he attempted to make it through to the next wall. Military vehicles followed the bus and Butheina put her head down as the soldiers began shooting in their direction. The first five cars in the beginning of the next line drove out of the way as the bus swerved around to make it through the wall. Butheina looked up and saw that her cousin Jo was bleeding.

“Butheina, keep your head down!” he yelled.

She ducked back down and the bus went over a few bumps then she felt a tire go out, the bus swerved and the driver got it back on three wheels and one rim. The military vehicles full of soldiers were catching up to them. The shooting never stopped and the bus began tilting on one side, then it flipped, slid and stopped.

Butheina closed her eyes and clenched her fist tighter so that she wouldn’t lose the paper. She heard fast footsteps approach the bus and she heard the soldiers pull each man out of the bus, then she felt a strong arm hoist her out and throw her on the ground. She kept her head down and her eyes closed. The voices around her were angry and all speaking in Arabic. Then she heard Jo say,

“I am sorry I put you in danger Butheina, just show them what’s in your hand and they will not harm you. Tell your father I am sorry but this is something I had to do.”

The soldier yelled at Jo but Jo did not respond, the other soldiers lined the other men up on their knees next to him and continued to yell in Arabic none of the men said anything. A soldier brought his gun up to Jo’s head and shot him, Butheina closed her eyes again, and then one by one each man was shot.

A soldier walked over to her, she opened her eyes as he raised his gun then she lifted up the piece of paper Jo gave her. The soldier lowered his weapon and reviewed the paper. He took it over to another soldier then they both began speaking in Arabic. Butheina heard the word embassy and she knew her father worked at that place. The soldier that shot Jo grabbed her and put her in one of the military vehicles then drove back to the checkpoint. 

Inside of the building next to the checkpoint Butheina sat inside of a room where soldiers surrounded her. A commanding officer walked into the room and sat down across from her.

“My name is Captain Roth, what is your name?”

“Butheina Humdoh.”

“Butheina, how old are you?”

“I’m thirteen.”

“Thirteen, so you’re old enough to know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Well, we have about ten minutes before your father gets here, he gave me permission to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Where is the minister?”

“The soldier shot him.”

“WRONG ANSWER!” The captain yelled.

“I saw the- “

“You saw nothing, you will go home and you will speak of none of this. If you do, I will find you and I will kill you and your family. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” Butheina began crying and she wished she were at home, safe, in America.

The Captain left the room and so did all of the soldiers except the one that shot Jo. He waited with her. “I’m sorry you had to see that little girl.” He said.

“I have a daughter too and I wouldn’t want her to witness anything like that, but you have to understand that I am just following orders, I have to do what I have to do to ensure the safety of my people.” Butheina didn’t respond to him. She just sat and waited until her father came. 

Butheina Hamdah is University of Toledo graduate most known for her written work on Muslim-American culture which was also documented by a New York Times opinion writer. She’s also gained notoriety with the ‘canary mission’.



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