tagInterracial LoveMuslim Women Dating Christian Men

Muslim Women Dating Christian Men

bySamuelx©

If you want to get out of a bad situation, the only thing to do is to just do it, regardless of consequences. That's what I told myself as I walked out of the Carleton University library, holding hands with my boyfriend Jean-Pierre Moineau in public for the first time. It was a cold, windy day in February, and Ottawa was blanketed with snow. Nevertheless, I swear I didn't feel the chill. I just felt my guy's warm, firm hand squeezing mine as we made our way through the quad. My name is Ceylin Iskinder, and I'm a young woman of Turkish descent living in the Capital of Canada.

Last year, my father, Mehmet Iskinder moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, from our home in Malatya, in the eastern region of the Republic of Turkey. As an Oxford-trained civil engineer, he was in high demand. He got hired by Terra Nova Limited, this big multinational corporation with holdings in the United States, Britain, Canada, Belgium, Brazil, South Africa, Turkey and Japan. They needed someone to spearhead their new Mergers and Acquisitions Division in Ottawa, and felt my dad would be the perfect man for the job. Honestly, I didn't feel like leaving Turkey for Canada. Leaving Turkey meant leaving my old life behind, along with my friends.

I visited Canada twice before and found the place cold and boring. Dad loves it, and honestly I don't know why. Nevertheless, Ottawa became our new home. I transferred from Inonu University, one of the largest schools in Turkey, to Carleton University, a little-known school in the Canadian capital. You can feel the joy radiating from these lines, can't you? Anyhow, I began my studies in Criminology at Carleton. I was in my second year in the Law program at the University of Inonu and honestly, starting from scratch at Carleton University felt like a slap in the face. Canadians are so damn backwards it's not even funny. They only recognize university degrees from Britain, America and Australia. As if the rest of the world didn't matter. Whatever.

In the City of Ottawa, Ontario, I experienced a brand new world. I expected the Canadian capital to be lily-white and boring. I was half right. Ottawa is still boring but it's full of immigrants of non-European descent. Riding the bus or train, I saw so many Africans, Arabs, Chinese and other ethnic groups I could only guess at. A lot of people keep mistaking me for a Mexican broad, which I find annoying because I've never been to Mexico or any Latin American nation. Hell, I don't even speak Spanish! Throughout my life, I've been told that I looked like something other than what I am. My mother, Fatima Bagis Iskinder, was half Turkish and half Black. My grandfather on my mother's side, Grandpa Kemal is Turkish and my grandmother Aisha is Somali. I guess that makes me seventy five percent Turkish and twenty five percent sub-Saharan African. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, busty and curvy, with light bronze skin, long black hair and pale bronze eyes. So, um, for the last time, I am NOT Mexican!

Yeah, I began my first year at my new school less than enthusiastically. My dad was having the time of his life in the City of Ottawa, though. And why shouldn't he? To him, moving to Canada was a promotion. For me it meant abandoning everything and everyone I held dear. My dad's enthusiasm for our new town and its denizens irks me, to tell you the truth. He began dating this Chinese lady named Kimberly Anne Chang, a teller at the Bank of Nova Scotia downtown, where we created our new accounts. She's got big tits and seems to say yes to everything he says, I guess that's part of the reason why he was so into her. I can't believe how much of a fool he's making out of himself by dating a woman more than ten years younger than him. Oh, well. It's his life. I'm his daughter and not his keeper.

During my first few months in the town of Ottawa, I missed Malatya sorely. A lot of people think that it's only in Europe and North America that people can enjoy unlimited fun. They make the rest of the world sound barbaric and backwards. Well, in the Republic of Turkey where I grew up, even though it's a mostly Muslim country, women enjoy equal rights, people enjoy religious freedom, the government is a secular democracy, and you won't be persecuted if you're different. There are Italians, Greeks, Lebanese and Asians living in Turkey, and most of them have only good things to say about this magnificent nation.

Yeah, we're just as modern as any country in Europe or North America. Don't believe these arrogant buzzards when they tell you they're the best of the best. With my father's constant globe-trotting, I've lived all over the world, from the Republic of South Africa to the island of Maui, from Australia to Brazil. There are many unique nations and peoples in this world. See them for yourself before you dismiss half of them because of tough talk from the big guys. As you can probably tell, I am very proud of my country. I didn't make many friends at Carleton University. I speak English and French just fine, having lived in Belgium for a year and a half once. However, my Canadian friends always pointed out my thick Turkish accent whether I spoke French or English. It's frustrating as hell and annoys the fuck out of me, just so you know.

Anyhow, I excelled in my classes but otherwise, my life sucked. I didn't have much to do and definitely no one to do it with. I didn't fit in with the other Muslim students at Carleton University. A large number of the Muslim chicks wore the hijab at school and that is totally NOT my thing. I grew up in a secular nation and us Turks are wary of Islamists. Hardline religious bozos are as much a threat to moderate Muslims as they are to non-Muslims. Is anyone ever truly safe from a lunatic? I see a lot of students with extremist views at school and I stay away from them. I spent most of my days at home, watching TV or playing on my computer. I write short fiction and I publish it online. Yeah, I felt myself wasting away in Ottawa with no friends, no outlet for my frustrated energies and basically no life. And my father was having the time of his life drinking, partying, traveling and sleeping around with exotic women. How awesome is that?

One day, while walking through the parking lot in front of the university center, I got so distracted that I didn't see a minivan backing up towards me, driven by a myopic soccer mom. I would have gotten squashed for sure, if it hadn't been for a certain tall young Black man who got me out of the way in time. And that's how I met Jean-Pierre Moineau, the guy I ended up falling for. We came from different worlds, we were of different faiths, but I knew from the first time I laid eyes on him that he just might be the one for me. I'm not a romantic person per se but I believe in fate. J.P. and I became friends, and we began hanging out together. He grew up in Ottawa so he's familiar with all the cool spots, few though they may be. With such a charming guide by my side, I began to loosen up and actually have fun. It was...amazing, actually.

Jean-Pierre and I got to know each other really well. He was born in Ottawa on November 8, 1989. His parents, Nelly and Alphonse Moineau moved to Canada from Haiti in 1987. He was a proud Scorpio, fluent in French, Spanish, English and Haitian Creole. He played soccer while studying chemistry at Carleton University. Well, I definitely felt that we shared some chemistry. I found myself falling for this handsome Haitian stud who made me feel like a princess. When I'm around him, I feel happy. Happier than I've been in months. The changes wrought in me by J.P. didn't go unnoticed.

My father sensed that something was different, and he asked me about it. I told him I was seeing someone, and he smiled, but told me to be careful. He asked me and I was deliberately vague about it. Now, I'm not ashamed of J.P. by any means but us Turks are a proud people, and many of us have negative views of non-Turks. One of my female cousins married a white Muslim guy from Kosovo and the majority of our family held her contempt because of it. Why couldn't she marry a nice Turkish lad? That's what everyone was wondering, including me. Yeah, I'm ashamed to say that I once held these views. Now look at me. I'm in love with a Black guy!

I decided that I'm going to be public with my relationship with Jean-Pierre. I began introducing him to my friends and classmates. Someday, I'll be ready to introduce him to my father. Never mind that he's Black and I'm Turkish. Never mind that he's a Christian man and I'm a Muslim woman. I want to be with him and only him. Whatever pain may come as a result of my choice. Now, some of you reading this might be shaking your heads because you may think I speak hastily. You might think that mine is the foolishness of youth, or something of that nature. Maybe, but I don't think so. When something feels right, a woman just knows. Anyhow, I've got to go. I am meeting my boo at the movies. I'm giving him the green light tonight. Yeah, that way.

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