I’ve been subjected to bad things ever since I was a child.
It started with the bullying I’d get at school,
Because of my thin body and dark skin.

Ever since I was young,
I was told that I’m not pretty,
Because I’m fat,
And that I shouldn’t eat too much,
Because I’d get even fatter.
I was told that it was gluttonous,
And unfeminine.

I grew up hating my hair.
It was very painful when my mother,
Would try to brush it.
Whenever I tried to be okay with it,
People at school, family and family friends would make fun of me.

Please accept my apologies for not accepting your existence for a long time and for trying to get rid of you.
I want you to know that your existence is comforting most of the time. 
I don’t want you to go anymore. 
You’ve been through a lot because of me.
body image, beauty standards

I wore the hijab even though I wasn’t really convinced I should.
I was trying to please God, since it’s an obligation for Muslim women.
It was also a way of meeting society’s standards of being modest.

My hair is naturally straight and I wish it were curly.
My father loves it when I wear it down.
He doesn’t like it when I tie it back.
Sometimes I try to make it curl, prompting my mother to call me mankoosha [frizzy-headed].
“Don’t style it that way again.”
body image, hair, beauty standards

I am a curly-haired girl.
Everyone calls my hair scraggly.
Everyone insists that I should straighten it,
But I don’t want to.

I look at my old clothes—
which I wore only a handful of times—
And I feel frustrated.
I try them all on.
I squeeze my new chubby body into them,
But to no avail.
It’s an attempt to prove I still fit into them.
Fine, I just want to fit into any of them at least,
So my mind could be at ease.

I acted like I wasn’t disgusted, but I was disgusted!
I pretended I wasn't because I felt it would be shameful for me to be hurt when people judge my body and then turn around and judge your body!
In a perfect world, we’d love every body type.

I started wearing the hijab when I was 11 years old.
I took the decision to take it off.
At work, Hassan, the security guy didn’t recognize me right away.
“Good morning, Ms. Why did you do that?”
I know he meant well.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying