Around our throats tight like a chain — this headscarf;
in our hands loaded like a gun — this headscarf.
Each strand of our hair can stoke a revolution;
burn the symbol of our pain — this headscarf.
It isn’t Islam but a fabrication,
lies and an empty refrain — this headscarf.
Deprivation and dependency,
soul’s opiate, it rots the brain — this headscarf.
We stand by our sister’s blood; a battle-flag
lifted against her killers’ reign — this headscarf.