She Wore Red Trainers. Na'ima B. Robert

      ‘Yeah, I know that, Samia. But let’s be honest, you’re not likely to find anyone like that anytime soon, especially not walking the streets of Lambeth!’

      Everyone laughed and, when the waitress came to take our order, we waved her away, saying, ‘the usual, girl, the usual!’

      Yasmin looked at me. ‘Don’t you believe in love, Ams?’

      I gave her my most incredulous expression. ‘Yaz, what’s love got to do with it? You can love the guy as much as you want, it doesn’t stop him being a scumbag and taking liberties with you.’ I was getting warmed up to my favourite subject: useless Muslim men. ‘Listen, ladies, let me spell it out for you: Muslim men these days want all the perks and none of the hard work. They want the little obedient wife who will give it up whenever they’re in the mood, who will have ten gazillion children and homeschool them all and help pay the rent. Why? Because they’re spoilt and too lazy to get off their backsides and step up to the plate, like real men.’