“What kind of a question is that?” Rasha demanded.
“An honest one. I was wondering. It was hard; you know it. Probably more so for you. And now, with the first trans president coming into office…. I was wondering if it was all worth it.”
“Lissie.” The force in Rasha’s tone could have stopped an avalanche. Lisette opened her eyes, gazing up, into the cloudless sky. Their small house overlooked the sea; under the willow tree, soft, weaving grass thrived, only feet away, golden sand sloped downwards to the rushing waves.
Rasha looked down her long, angular nose, dark eyes gleaming with ferocity, mocha skin glowing in the molten sun. Her green hijab rippled in the wind like the sea in the distance.
“I would do it all over again. Every bit of it. The Muslim girl falling in love with the French Christian. The prejudice. The pain. The suspicions, the struggle, every bit of it. Because, at the end, I’ve got you. And that makes it all worth it.”
Lisette smiled.
It was true, the struggle was almost insurmountable. Rasha’s disapproving family, Lissie’s Islamist-prejudiced one, swayed by the paranoia of the times. The pain of being gay, of the people who avoided them like the plague, who wouldn’t marry them, or bake their wedding cake, who hid bias and hatred behind the mask of religion. Years of tears and hopes and dreams dragged through the dust lead to this sun-showered moment, in a home beside the sea. One moment in the sun, finally at peace.
Lissie meandered back to that moment, when she was just a teenager, at the choice their nation had made - a man who could have ruined it all, or the woman who, as President, went on to, slowly, gradually, painfully, accept gays, lesbians, trans, and every other persecuted group. Rasha spoke the truth. It hadn’t been easy. But the choice had been right.
“Ami! Mamá!”
A little girl huffed towards them up the sandy path, her caramel skin and flowing, dark hair soaking in the warmth of their quiet, sheltered haven. The boy behind her, feathery curls bouncing, clutched a shell in his pale hand. Their daughter, their son.
Lisette took her wife’s hand, beaming, watching their children race closer, eyes sparkling with excitement and childish, carefree joy.
“You’re right,” she whispered, beaming. “It’s worth it. We’re safe now.”