It happened during an Arabic lesson,
Which took place at the library.
The teacher played a tape about the punishments of the grave.
I, in addition to another student, were the only Chrisitians in the classroom.
The sheikh on the tape was insulting Christianity.
So we excused ourselves from the library,
Because we didn’t like hearing those insults.

I was eight years old.
I was playing in the streets,
Where a sixty year old man used to sell honey.
He would get us honey every month.
That time there was no one at home.

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.

I gave birth to my first child.
I used to hear about postpartum depression.
I thought it happened due to the changing body.
But when I experienced it myself, I found out that there are more reasons behind it.
It felt as if I was battling a monster.
mental health, depression, postpartum depression, motherhood, social pressure, social stigma

I think I was 9 or 10 years old.
I was at the marketplace with my aunt,
When a man with a crutch, and who was older than my grandfather, groped my behind.
He kept walking around in the market looking for other girls to grope.
I looked at him in disgust and anger.
gender violence, sexual violence, rape, social stigma, social pressure, the street

Why are you late, missy?
What time is it?
You come home every day at 2 or 3 in the morning.

Imagine that you’re a teenager, 13 years old, and you’re mocked nearly every day at school
because you weigh too much.
On top of that, imagine some of the stupid things that your classmates and teachers say,
social stigma, social pressure, masculinity, bullying, body image

I was walking down the street, when a police car sped by me,
As if it were on a highway,
And our street is narrow, I mean, it doesn’t make any sense.
There were people walking and children playing.
He could have hit me, so I was startled.
social stigma, gender violence

I used to always watch her from the examination room window in the government hospital that I worked at.
Her name was Sokkara. She was young. She couldn’t be older than 13 years old.

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