"Aside from anything else,
I need to have sex.
Can you tell me what to do?
I'm a divorced lady with two kids,
and I just need to have sex.
What am I supposed to do?”

After I left him,
I rented a place in a building that belonged to one of my friends,
Because my sister would call my ex to come over,
so I left her and swore I’d never set foot in her place again.
social stigma, divorce, sex work

I found out two years ago by pure chance that I had a tumor in my uterus.
“The position of the tumor is critical and we might have to remove the uterus,” the doctor said.
I was terrified.
It wasn’t that I was worried it would stop me from getting married.

I have to sit a certain way, I can't move my hands when I speak.
I can't cry around people, and if someone hits me, I have to hit them back. These are just a few examples of things I should do if I want "to be a man."
I’m still going to be myself, no matter how much this costs me and no matter how many times people tell me that I'm "not a man."

I had a recurring dream when I was young,
That my mother wasn’t actually my mother,
And that my father was married to another woman,
Who looked exactly like my mother.
I don’t know why I kept having this dream.
Maybe because my mother was very hard on me,
And my father was kind.
Everyone used to say that he spoiled me.
But I didn’t see it that way.
He used to shout all the time,
And my mother used to hit me,
So I’d grow up to be a proper housewife.

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.

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

He was always suspicious of me.
Whenever he went out, he’d wedge a single hair between the door and the doorframe.
When he’d get back home, he’d check the door to see if I’d gone out.
His suspicions were very hard to deal with.
When God was going to bless us with a baby, my husband gave me an ultimatum: “It’s either me or the baby.”
So, I went and got an abortion.
motherhood, social stigma, domestic violence, prison, physical violence

He took me, and said,
“Don’t worry. People in love do this.”
He gave me a pill, which made me dizzy.
I didn’t feel a thing.

Mamdouh, Mamdouh, get up!
I’ve heard that the apartment in front of ours has been rented by two girls.