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.

I have been suffering, even before I got married, from a disease in my uterus.
It prevents me from having children.
I underwent several operations in the hopes that, one day, I could be a mother.
The disease also induced other health-related problems.
Being sterile makes me feel like a second-rate woman.
motherhood, social pressure, social stigma

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.

I was in a taxi with one of my friends.
It was nighttime.
And on the way, close to the police station in Nasr City,
An officer got up to stop our taxi when he realized a boy and a girl were sitting next to one another in the backseat.

After 12 days of marriage,
Full of hitting, swearing, and being rude,
I called his brother.
He told me the same old garbage:
“He’s young. He’ll change. Be patient.”
domestic violence, gender violence, physical violence, addiction, marriage, divorce, social stigma

Noha and I are old friends.
Right before she and I started wearing the hijab, we went to rent a beach house.
Our hair was down and we were wearing summer clothes.
I can’t begin to tell you how well they treated us.
They were very respectful.

I want to feel like I’m on solid ground.
Not like I’m on a piece of paper, flying about in the air.

It was around 2:00 pm in the afternoon in Al-Haganah.
There, people get their water supply from a public water tap.
There were a lot of people waiting in line, among them was a Sudanese woman.
She was in her forties, wearing a traditional Sudanese dress.
She obviously had to wait in line with everyone else.
But she also had to wait until everyone else finished.
Just because she was Sudanese.

“We can’t have a divorced woman in the family.
What will people say?
Once you’re married, that’s it.
You can’t get a divorce.”

My siblings act like I got a divorce to become their personal servant.
They abuse my help.
Even my brother decided to say something about it: “So, just because she’s had rotten luck and had to come back here, you all decide to make her do everything alone?”
social stigma, parents, parents