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

If you’re passing by a security checkpoint,
And you happen to have a girl in the car with you,
You’ll automatically get asked for your IDs and about your relationship to the girl,
No matter what she looks like or is wearing.
Even if she wears the niqab.

My story is the story of hundreds of people.
The story is that of differences.
The difference that isn’t allowed,
Which you’re scared of and hate,
Because you know it’s haram.

I remember being 12 or so.
I had been invited over to a friend's house for dinner.
The table was laid and dinner was served.
I started eating and that's when things got tense.
My friend's mother asked me not to eat with my left hand.
social stigma, social pressure

“You eat with your left hand?
That’s haram.
How could your parents let you do that?”

I entered the women’s metro car, and as usual, found men there.
Usually I fight them, but that day I wasn’t feeling well, so I said nothing.

“Don’t listen to him.
Your body is not defined by kilograms and centimeters.
Your body does not define you.
You’re beautiful.
You’re more beautiful than you and others think.
You’re talented and smart.
Your value is not determined by a number on a scale or by your clothing size.”

Is there something wrong with me?
Sometimes I feel like I’m a disgusting creature.
I buy something from the supermarket,
And the cashier places the change a good distance away from me,
So he won’t accidentally touch my hand.

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.

I feel like my children have become uneasy around me because of the time I did in jail.
They don’t treat me like I’m their mother.
“Well, you have been to jail,” my siblings say.
“You act like someone who’s been in jail.”
social stigma, prison