I was released by the 4th night.
I went home, carrying the clothes and stuff I had with me in jail.
I knocked on my family’s door.
I needed to go to the bathroom. I wanted to shower and all that.
prison, social stigma, marriage

Did you see what Miss Hoda did to Sarah?
I was speaking to her from the bus window, and she was standing below.
Miss Hoda came and slapped her.

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.

A few years ago, I gave birth to my first child.
Ever since then, every time I try to fast, my blood pressure plummets to 80/50.
My mom, husband and sister would tell me to stop fasting.
This would generally occur about 3 hours before we were due to break our fasts.
social pressure, social stigma

I am not obligated to have my headphones on whenever I’m walking so I wouldn’t have to hear what they say.
Because even if I can’t hear them, I can still see the way they look at me.
social stigma, social pressure, masculinity, bullying, the street

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.

Don’t you dare think of pressing charges like those women in the movie did.
A respectable girl would never go into a police station full of men and tell them that a man, for example, grabbed her here or touched her leg.
This country is full of incidents like these, and women never speak up. Don’t you go playing the hero

I was always very independent,
Ever since I was young.
I never did anything unless I believed in it.
I decided to start wearing the headscarf.
I did so out of conviction.
No one interfered in my decision.
social stigma, hijab, discrimination

Out of nowhere, a taxi swerved and stopped right in front of me like it was a police car and I was some criminal on the run.
An elderly woman stepped out of the taxi.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing dressed like that?”
I was wearing loose-fitting blue jeans and a black t-shirt. My tightly-coiled hair hung about my face untied.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.

I hugged my friend out in public because he needed it, and because I needed it too.
When I heard the comments, I pulled away from him by saying, “What’s this? You’re crying?”
But I had wanted to keep on hugging him until he had let it all out.
I wanted to hug him without fearing or worrying what passersby would say.