An elderly man was standing in line behind me. He was wearing a white jalabiyah. He had a thin beard.
He placed a hand on each of my shoulders. He gripped them tightly and pressed his penis against my behind.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, the street

My stepfather was the first person to ever harass me.
I wasn’t even 10 years old yet.
I didn’t understand a thing.
He would sneak in at night while I was asleep.
When I’d wake up, he’d pretend to be asleep on the floor,
Or pretend to be checking on my brother.
I told my mother when I understood what was happening.
But she didn’t believe me.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, parents

When I was a 13-year-old girl,
My parents were a little strict with me.
But they’re my parents,
And I could never let go of them.
When I grew up,
I knew that we couldn’t function as a normal family.
I was subjected to violence by my mother and father.
My siblings too.

The harasser was a math teacher at our school. He was a very good teacher. Always smiling and nice. Always joking around. Everyone loved him, including me.
I was eleven, and there was nothing special about me. He ruined me.

I stopped hearing about her a long time ago.
When I found out that she was in a relationship,
With someone who was prepared for marriage,
And that they were intending to get married,
I withdrew in a nice manner and wished her all the best.
I mean I know my luck:
I am always too late.

My mother made me spend the day with her one day because she was home alone.
While we were playing together, she suddenly took off all her clothes.
“Come here,” she said.
“Take off your clothes.”
sexual violence, child molestation, sexuality, masturbation

When I was ten years old,
The sheikh called me to him and took me inside a closet,
Where he touched my private parts.

I was pretty young—eight years old—the day I started working at the workshop. It was during a school vacation.
There wasn’t internet back then, and there were only two TV channels.
I knew nothing about sex at the time.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, sex

The only indication that something wrong was going on was how quickly everything stopped when someone walked in, and how he told me to not tell anyone.
I used to always listen to him because he was older than me.
The more I thought about it, the less normal it felt.
I told mama when I was in the fourth grade: “He touches my breasts and my behind, and sometimes, he takes off his pants. Is that normal?"

This is not a story about street harassment.
This is a story about domestic violence.
When I was still an eight year old child,
My paternal grandfather used to touch me in a way that made me uncomfortable.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, parents