Having a prosthetic leg was never a problem for me.
It’s other people who had a problem with it.
I could see it in their eyes.
The things they say,
Their disapproving looks as I carry myself on crutches.
I lift one leg,
Pause,
And carry the other one.

“Go take a pregnancy test and come back, so I can start processing your papers”.

“Don’t react to anything you hear.
Just keep walking.”
“Don’t talk back, no matter what.
Walk away.”
“No one knows what he could do to you.”
That’s what we’re told.
We’re told to obey.
If someone insults me,
I should just walk away.
That way he’ll keep doing what he does.

When I was in college, a joke started about someone in our group and spread throughout the entire university:
“Is that your body, Ahmed, or your mother’s?

We were listening to music on the beach,
When three guys came and sat in front of us.
We got up and went for a walk,
But they came after us.
I kept yelling at them,
But they kept following us.

Her family thought she was a slut.
They thought she had sex with him.

Her sister was positive she did something bad with him.
Otherwise she wouldn’t be insisting on marrying him.
She must be trying to cover up what she did.

My life now takes place entirely between four walls.
I don’t go out. I don’t go anywhere.
I don’t know what people want from me.
I just want peace. I want someone to tell me words of comfort.
I want someone to ask me what’s hurting me. 
prison, marriage, divorce, social stigma, social pressure

Because I did nothing wrong.
I did what I had to so no one would make fun of my orphan son.
I didn’t even forge a birth certificate. I just entered his name into the birth registry.
His parents died in an accident, and I adopted him through social services.
I mean, everyone’s in jail.
prison, social stigma, motherhood

I hate people’s reactions at work when they meet me for the first time.
“You’re very brave to be veiled.”
“Veiled girls should get married and stay at home.”
And “Veiled girls aren’t competent workers.”

I was on the run for 5 years. I rarely stayed at home.
And when I did, I couldn’t go out into the balcony or look out the window.
I would sneak in and out of the house like a thief.
I was arrested one day when I didn’t know I was being watched.
prison, social stigma