I am a 23-year-old guy.
I come from a well-known family.
I graduated a year ago from business school.
From the moment I was born,
My life has been full of suffering.
My father was very harsh on me and my siblings,
But I was almost the only one affected by his cruelty.
He used to beat me over the smallest mistakes.
He used to humiliate me,
Call me names in front of people,
And degrade me in front of my friends.
My hair is curly,
And I love it.
I’m tired of the stupid things people say to me.
Going out is one of the worst experiences ever.
I feel a knot in my stomach whenever I’m about to go out.
I don’t know if this is social anxiety.
I have self-confidence,
And I love my hair.
I wish people would accept differences.
One time I got a suitor who had really good manners.
There was nothing wrong with him, but I rejected him.
I just didn’t feel it.
After I rejected him, my uncle called me and said
“The suitor called and he’s visiting us tomorrow.”
social pressure, social stigma, marriage
My problem is that I am staying at my ex-husband’s apartment.
After I was released from jail, my children all got either engaged or married.
We told people that their father was a political detainee.
And that I lived near where he was held to visit him and bring him food.
prison, social stigma
I know how to tweeze and thread.
I'm an employee by day, but I do these things at night.
The troll I'm married to sits at home all day and doesn't make a penny to spend on the kids, and he gives me a beating every other day or so.
I was subjected to derisive comments on an almost daily basis.
The one I got the most was a quote from one of Mohamed Saad’s movies: “Possibly a boy, possibly a girl”.
I got that practically every day.
At the beginning, I’d usually yell and fight with the person who said it.
Until one time, I got into a fight with a guy who made fun of my hair.
masculinity, bullying, gender violence, harassment, social stigma, the street
I'm bullied by my direct manager
because I'm from a small town in Behairaa and he lives in Cairo.
social stigma, bullying, work
She stood, pretty as a picture,
In the midst of a place that despised beauty.
The eyes of the passengers, once cold and dead, were now filled with anger and jealousy.
Filled with unspoken words I’ve heard before.
My looks didn’t concern me when I was entering into journalism.
I told myself that as soon as I speak and show my personality,
I’ll draw everyone’s attention.