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I think the well-being of the international Black community would be much improved if Black men and Black women simply learned to communicate with one another. My name is Dhakiyah Falak Dawson. I was born and raised in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. The only daughter of an immigrant mother originally from the City of Mogadishu in the nation of Somalia. Oh, and I’m bisexual. What I’m about to tell you is deeply confidential information. I could lose my head for this. Psych! I’m just messing with you. This tale took place during my sophomore year at Carleton University, shortly after I decided to get serious with my boyfriend Amir Abdul-Hamid. A little background info about myself before we get to the important stuff, if you please.

The life of a young Black woman in Canada is never easy. Seriously. We all got stereotypes about ourselves which we must face daily. I stand six feet tall, slim but curvy where it counts, with medium brown skin and long Black hair. People say I resemble the African-American singer Alicia Keys, only with tennis champion Serena Williams booty. I don’t take these statements as a compliment because I am my own woman. I am Dhakiyah, not some amalgamation of Black female celebrities from America. Anyhow, where was I? Most of my life, I grew up hearing negative things about Black men, especially the ones from the Muslim world. My mother, Atifah Falak emigrated from the nation of Somalia when she was twenty, and pregnant with me. She gave birth at Ottawa’s Civic Hospital on the first day of February 1988. Making me as Canadian as maple syrup.

My mother left my father Ahmed Falak in Somalia because he was a control freak and an abusive guy. Shortly after she arrived in Canada, my mother met Eric Dawson, a handsome Irish accountant originally from the City of Galway, Ireland. Fast forward a few years and they got married. My mother took Dawson’s family name, and gave birth to twin daughters, Isabel and Soraya. My mother renounced her Islamic faith and embraced Catholicism, Eric Dawson’s religion. To Somali folks living in the Confederation of Canada as well as Somalia, a Somali woman converting to Christianity to marry a white guy would seem scandalous. However, my mother did it because she loved Eric and also because she was fed up with the controlling men of the Muslim world. Thus, I was brought up Catholic. Growing up, I often heard my mother warning me never to marry a Somali guy. According to her, Somali guys were all abusive and controlling. They claimed to be following Islam by asserting their control over Somali women but my mother thought it was all bullshit. By some miracle my mother was spared the nightmare of female genital mutilation, but she knew countless Somali women who suffered that grisly fate. That’s why my mother fled to Canada, where she married a white guy and became a Canadian citizen. While I was horrified by the nightmarish situation of women in Somalia, I refused to believe that all men from that country were monsters hell-bent on controlling the women in their lives. That seemed like an overly easy classification to me. There had to be some exceptions to that rule.

Living in the City of Ottawa, I attend a Catholic school and had mostly white friends. My mother was friends with several African women who defied their families and social customs by marrying white males in the Confederation of Canada. Most of my mother’s female friends came from continental Africa and had non-Black husbands. I found it funny that my mother detested my friend Adam’s father Joel McCain, a Jamaican-born and Ottawa-based corporate lawyer who married a white policewoman from Orleans. Apparently, Black women with white husbands couldn’t stand Black men with white wives. These two interracial couples simply did NOT get along. White men with Black wives still bristled at the sight of Black men with white wives. The sheer bahis firmaları hypocrisy of people in interracial relationships boggles the mind. Seriously. It’s a good thing that I was never into white guys because I would have ended up exactly like my mother. The last thing I wanted to be was one of those bitter Black women who worshiped whiteness and loathed their own race. In spite of my parents best efforts, I grew up with nothing but love for my African brothers and sisters.

When I came to Carleton University, I finally felt free. Even though my parents were only an hour away in the Ottawa suburb of Barrhaven, I felt like I could do anything. I opted to live in a small apartment near the Saint Laurent Mall, twenty minutes from the Carleton University campus. I chose to study business administration at Carleton because I grew up in a mostly English environment. Most of the French Canadian brats coming out of the many high schools in the City of Ottawa opted for the University of Ottawa, a fully bilingual school. Some went to La Cite Collegiale, an exclusive French college in the town of Orleans, Ontario. I always found French Canadians to be whiners so I didn’t want to study at a school full of them. The Canadian government gives a ton of money to the Province of Quebec every year because they’re always threatening to separate from the rest of Canada. If you ask me, Canada is better off without Quebec. Anyhow, I digress. Where was I?

Oh, yes. I was telling you about my dear Amir Abdul-Hamid. The first time I saw him inside the Carleton University library, I thought he was fine as hell. At least six feet two inches tall, broad-shouldered and well-built, with dark brown skin, curly Black hair and pale brown eyes. I knew he was Somali just from looking at him. Imagine my surprise when I found out he didn’t speak the Somali language at all. Amir Abdul-Hamid was an international student at Carleton University. Although he was born in Somaliland, he had been adopted by a white couple in the City of London, England. Luther and Annabelle Wellington adopted Amir Abdul-Hamid and raised him as their own. Amir held British citizenship, and he was raised in the Anglican faith. Wow. A Somali male raised in the Christian faith. Now I’ve seen everything!

Amir seemed ill at ease with the Somali students at Carleton University. Many Somali girls at the school noticed him but didn’t know what to make of him either. He had a silver cross around his neck, symbol of the Christian religion. He wasn’t raised Muslim. Also, he didn’t speak any Somali or Arabic. Oh, and he walked around with Carleton University women’s rugby player Beatrice O’Malley, a red-haired white chick from the City of Calgary, Alberta. Home of the rednecks of Canada. I found Amir uniquely cute and appealing. And I was determined to catch this tasty fish for myself. I approached him one afternoon inside the University Center. He was sitting at a table, sipping on a Pepsi. His paramour Beatrice was nowhere to be found. Good. I introduced myself, and asked him about himself. Amir seemed really shy at first, but I got him to loosen up. He opened up to me after finding out that I was raised in Ottawa and practiced Catholicism, the faith of my adoptive father Eric Lawson. Also, I didn’t speak a lick of Somali or Arabic. I was a Canadian-born Somali female Christian sitting next to a Somali-born Christian male raised in England. How about that? We were definitely unique.

Our conversation was rudely interrupted by Beatrice O’Malley. The tall, butch-looking redhead glared at me when she saw me talking to her man. Amir had a guilty look on his face as he introduced me to Beatrice. Beatrice sat down, bristling. I could tell that she didn’t like me. A lot of white females across Canada and America feel that Black males are their own personal sex toys. They get really territorial around Black women kaçak iddaa when they see us eyeballing ‘their’ men. I smiled coldly at Beatrice as I continued talking to Amir about the Christian faith and its growing influence in traditionally Muslim countries such as Lebanon and Iran. I’ve always been proud of my Christian faith. To me, Islam had way too many restrictions. It’s the most oppressive religion of all if you’re a woman. I’m not just saying that because of my mother but because I’ve done my research.

Women should always do their research before changing their religion to please the man they’re with. One white female Muslim convert who traveled to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia with her Saudi-born husband has been stuck there ever since because the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia denies women freedom of movement without the expressed permission of either their fathers or their husbands. That’s one of the most basic tenets of Sharia Law. Walking around the big cities of Canada, I smile pityingly at non-Muslim Canadian women I see dating Muslim guys from Africa and the Middle East. If they only knew these men’s true views of women’s rights. They would shudder in revulsion and flee. After our talk, Beatrice and Amir left, and Amir smiled wistfully at me and wished me a good day. Beatrice shot me a cold look as they walked away. I smiled, knowing what she feared. The fact that Amir was mine for the taking. I could tell by the look on his eyes that he was fascinated by me.

That night, I added Amir Abdul-Hamid on Facebook. The next day, we met inside the campus library to study. I got to know him much better. Amir was a really nice, friendly guy. Being raised in England by a white couple turned him into a decent, friendly and open-minded guy as far as religion and women’s rights was concerned. He found Middle-Eastern’s men treatment of women to be appalling. Also, he was a staunch Christian who proclaimed his faith everywhere he went. He stunned me by declaring that he was actually waiting for marriage before having sex. A fact that annoyed his girlfriend Beatrice O’Malley, who wanted to ‘jump his bones’. Wow. Amir is a virgin, eh? Now I’ve seen everything. Seducing him away from Beatrice was going to be easier than I thought. My plan worked like a charm. I went everywhere with him, always taking up his attention and making sure he didn’t have much time for Beatrice. After a month of this, she dumped him. Game, set and match. A distraught Amir turned to me, and I comforted him. Am I good or what?

Amir was a really cool guy, but sexually he seemed clueless. I kissed him in the back of the library one time and he just froze. I was growing frustrated with him. I’m by no means a virgin. I’ve been sleeping with girls and guys for a while. By far I prefer men. They’re naughtier. Women are boring. Still, I wondered if Amir was too much of a good Christian to lust after my sexy body like a good man should. I looked inside his computer, and what I found amazed me. The guy had enough porn stashed away to satisfy an entire army! And what kinky porn! Ninety percent of them involved female domination scenarios. Women spanking men. Women beating men with belts and whips. Women doing men with strap-on dildos. Wow. Amir is a naughty bastard, eh? I confronted him with the evidence of his misdeeds. That’s when he tried to deny it. He even claimed his roommate was responsible for it. I looked inside his computer history. The guy had been accessing female domination porn since 2009. Amir broke down and confessed that he was turned on by ‘female dominance’ porn and didn’t know how to stop. I smiled and gently kissed him on the lips. Ask and you shall receive, my brother.

I took Amir home, and told him I could ‘take care’ of him. And I did not disappoint. Once we got to my apartment near Saint Laurent Mall, I stripped to my bra and panties. I admired myself in the mirror kaçak bahis as I donned my shiny, ebony-colored and totally awesome, vibrating strap-on dildo. I surprised the hell out of Amir in the living room. His eyes widened like saucers when he saw me. I smiled naughtily, and told him to come to me. Amir hesitated, but I promised him a wonderful time. And I did not disappoint. Fear and lust dueled in Amir’s mind. Lust won over fear. My sexy man joined me in the bedroom, and we did our thing. Amir stripped to his boxers, rewarding my hungry eyes with the sight of his sexy body. He was hot as hell. Great shoulders, well-cut abs, solid arms, great legs and a nice round ass. I like a brother with a nice ass. And Amir had an ass this horny sister wanted to bite. Hmmm.

I stood there, running my hands through his curly hair as he knelt before me and sucked my strap-on dildo. I looked in the mirror, admiring our reflections as he sucked me off. Amir sucked the dildo with gusto. Hmmm. He seems pretty good at this for a first-timer. I stopped him, and then went down on him. I took Amir’s big dick in my mouth. To my immense surprise, Amir was uncircumcised. I’ve been with a few uncut guys before but they were mostly Afro-Brazilian guys from Toronto. I had never heard of an uncircumcised Somali guy. Amir told me that his British adoptive parents didn’t believe in circumcision. How cool is that? I kind of like uncut guys. They have really sensitive cocks that are fun to play with. Let’s see if Amir meets my standards. I flicked my tongue over his cock after pulling back the foreskin and I sucked his balls. Amir moaned in pleasure as I went down on him. I guess it was his first blowjob because he came pretty quick. I drank his cum. He tasted hot and salty. Hmm. I had never been with a Somali man before, and I’m a Somali-Canadian woman. The brother tasted wonderful.

Afterwards came the time to get strapping. Amir was understandably nervous but I promised him I’d be gentle. And I was. I put him on his back and raised his legs in the air. I put on gloves before lubricating his asshole with Aloe Cream and then fingering his ass. Then I gently pressed the tip of the dildo against his ass and stopped. Looking him in the eyes, I asked him if he was ready for me. Amir nodded. Gently, I eased the dildo inside of him. Amir grunted as I penetrated him, but other than that he seemed fine. I took my sweet time as I worked the dildo into his asshole. Slowly but surely I worked most of it up there. Amir seemed uncomfortable at first, but really enjoyed himself as I began earnestly fucking him with my strap-on dildo. He stroked his cock as I fucked him and I swear it got bigger and harder as I pushed the dildo deeper into his ass. I suddenly realized why. Men’s G-spot is located in their butts, near the prostate gland. The more stimulated it gets, the more turned on they become. I fucked Amir good, sinking the dildo into the depths of his virgin asshole. He screamed. He howled. He came. And he absolutely loved what I did to him.

A little while later, Amir and I kissed passionately. I picked up a condom and put it on his dick, then hopped on for a ride. Again Amir was nervous and I had to guide him through it. I was actually the one who inserted his hard dick in my pussy, believe it or not. Once he was inside of me he began fucking me with vigorous thrusts. The guy might be new to sex but his male instincts kicked in and he knew just what to do. I’m happy to say that Amir did not disappoint in the sack, folks. My sweet and sexy man fucked me good. We went at it for hours, in several different positions. We had a lot of fun together. I’ve got a lot to teach him but I know it’s going to be fun. He’s such a promising student when it comes to all things sexual. Amir left my pussy pleasurably sore after a night of hot sex. I can’t wait till I can get him in my bed again. And again. I’m so glad I met him. We’re going to be amazing together! By showing the world that modern-day Somalis are open-minded about sexuality and religion, that we value gender equality and self-expression, and we’re fun together.

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