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

“Why did you choose this topic?”
“I wanted a topic no one’s talked about before and that’s considered taboo.”
“And you think you’re knowledgeable enough to talk about this topic?”
“This is just scientific research.”

I’m 24 years old.
I’ve had low self-esteem ever since I was 13 because of my weight.
People always stare at me and make fun of me because I’m fat.
“Will you be the one breastfeeding the kids when you’re married?”
body image, social stigma, bullying

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

Since Ramadan is coming up, I'd like to share my story as a Christian, Egyptian male born and raised in Egypt.
I remember one day in Ramadan, I thought I would dare society and drink water publicly.
I was stopped by an old man.
He had been walking and stopped. He pointed at me from across the street.
social stigma, social pressure, the street

I was one of those girls who wore the hijab during Ramadan when I was young.
I wore it during middle school and high school,
Because they told us that if a man admires our hair when we’re fasting,
That nullifies both his fast and ours.
social pressure, social stigma

“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.”

I always thought that a girl who was a virgin
Would look different from a girl who wasn’t.
For a long time, I wondered what the difference might be.

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.

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.