If you read about the niqab-clad poet from Saudi Arabia and her anti-extremist verse, you might be wondering why people are rejoicing over a woman who is allowed to speak only behind a thick black cloak covering her from head to toe in a television show where women and men are seated in separate sections. Yes, it is rather strange to see the male host of the show and the other male contestants avoid eye contact with the female poet whose eyes you can't really see, but cultural progress in that part of the world does not come in leaps and bounds. Hissa Hilal, the female poet on the show, is a brave woman who is sparing no stanza to denounce religious extremism and deride hardline fatwa-issuing clerics, like Sheikh Abdul Rahman Al-Barrak, a prominent Saudi cleric who recently declared that those who advocate for the mingling of men and women are infidels and should be punished by death. Most Muslims find these impulsive and irrational rulings laughable, but Hilal has taken the public's retort to a different and sophisticated level by snapping back in elegant rhymes. In a country where women still cannot drive, travel without a male legal guardian, and where conservative authorities continue to debate whether they should have women-only buses, Hilal's provocative poetry comes as a wake-up call that Saudi women just cannot take it anymore. I'm not surprised like most Western media are that a woman wearing the burqa is this courageous and eloquent, but I believe the fact that this biting criticism is uttered by a burqa-clad housewife carries more weight. It's certainly sad to be saying this because it shouldn't make a difference whether the woman lashing out at the hardliners is veiled or not, but this is Saudi Arabia and any calls for cultural change there need to be cautious and strategic, as Hilal says here to a BBC reporter.

"My topic today requires much courage," Hilal says before reading her poem against conservative clerics. "Many are afraid and silent about the dangers besetting the Umma. Many poets write about their own fleeting issues, but sitting on a pulpit requires talking about big issues." The beginning of Hilal's poem can be loosely translated as follows:

"I have seen evil from the eyes of the subversive fatwas in a time when what is halal [lawful] is confused with what is haram [unlawful]."

"When I tell the truth, a monster [conservative cleric] appears from his hideaway, barbaric in thinking and action, angry and blind, wearing death as a dress and covering it with a belt [reference to suicide bombing]."

"He speaks from an official, powerful pulpit, terrorizing people and denouncing all those seeking peace. The voice of courage has run away and the truth is silent when self-interest prevented people from speaking the truth."

What I find exciting about this kind of shows is that it pushes the rigid boundaries of certain societies every time television ratings matter to producers. The Million's Poet, the show in question, is in its 4th season and the more it airs, the more it will help unsettle people's level of comfort and certainties. Islam's revolution will probably not be televised or digitized, but the media function as a powerful stage for this raging discussion.