Why are you late, missy?
What time is it?
You come home every day at 2 or 3 in the morning.

The kids at school were the first to surprise me.
It was their first time dealing with a Christian.
During class,
A kid would interrupt me to ask,
“Do you speak Arabic like us?

No one visited him when he was in jail for 3 years. It was a difficult time for him.
He had to go through that struggle. He had to grow up and stop depending on us being there for him.
We had to stop visiting him.
That’s why he was afraid when he got out.
He was afraid of incarceration. He was afraid of the hardship.
prison, social stigma

My sister and I were requesting a case postponement when we found out that we had been sentenced to prison.
I had helped my brother borrow money for his daughter’s marriage.
I didn’t take any of the money myself; I only helped him out but he didn’t return the money.
My sister used to buy things which she would then sell.
prison, bullying, physical violence, social stigma

My sister visited me at home two weeks ago.
She told me I was harming her and her son.
And that if anything bad happened to our mother, it’d be my fault.
She told me my whole life was wrong and unnatural.

Everyone believes that this piece of fabric not only covers my head, but my brain too, affecting its ability to function intellectually.
I’m always told that my actions and ideas don’t befit my headscarf.
People always expect me to act like a nun, and to always defend the headscarf and the conduct of every covered female.

We need to see the IDs of the people who visited you yesterday.
Yes, this is standard procedure.
The security guards need them.
We need the girls’ IDs, not the men’s.

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

I don't regret anything;
I just had no idea what I was getting myself into:
the lies, the secrecy, the plotting,
the unethicality of the women of the family I was marrying into
and the blind denial of the men.

The police officer was saying the most disgusting curse words when he was interrogating me.
I got my period at that moment.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Blood,” I said.
prison, social stigma