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

I was in third grade, and there was this little shop near school whose owner always called me "sweetheart" whenever I'd pass by.

I’ve been sexually abused since I was 5 years old.
I can still feel his hand on me, his leers.
Without going into more details, the whole thing was creepy.
I was molested by my uncle.

Whenever I was at my grandmother’s, he’d sit close to me, touch me.
And I was stupid and didn’t understand what was going on.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, harassment

My name is Khadra.
I’m 33 and I’m a middle school dropout,
But I don’t know how to read or write.
My parents passed away, and I have three kids:
Basma, Dina, and Amr.
My husband passed away too.

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

If only my mother had explained why she had warned me,
And what could have happened to me,
I certainly wouldn’t have gone.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation

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.

At the beginning, I used to sit across the table from him.
After a while, he asked me to sit next to him.
He began to make a habit out of patting me...

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

My father was the first person to touch me.
I used to tell myself that I was imagining it.
When he’d touch me with his leg from behind,
I’d tell myself he was just being playful.