Her brother overheard her speaking to him on the phone at night,
So he grabbed her, pulling her by the hair, and beat her up.
The next day her face was bruised.
He chopped her hair off and made her take off her veil.

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.

My father was a difficult man.
He didn't like us girls.
He only liked the boys.

My story isn’t about physical or emotional abuse.
I got married when I was 21 years old.
He was the first man I ever spoke to.
That’s how we were raised.
I took very good care of myself.

He instructed me to put on my nightgown.
I put it on, but I didn't want to leave the bedroom wearing nothing but it.
“Goddamn it,” he exclaimed, “Let’s try and get this done sometime today!”
“Your family’s waiting in the street!”
domestic violence, gender violence, sexual violence, sex education, sex work, virginity testing

I didn’t have a childhood.
My mother burdened me with responsibilities very early on.
Women here work on the farm,
Milk the cows,
And feed the birds.
My mother would set off to do these things,
And when she’d come back,
She’d hit me.
“Why didn’t you make dinner?”
domestic violence; gender violence; sexual violence; physical violence; parents; child marriage; divorce; work

Unlike most girls, I never had any expectations or dreams about my wedding night. Nor did I exert any effort to think of what would happen once I was alone with my husband—whom I hardly knew—for the first time.

I got married after 6 years of being in love.
During that time,
I found out he was cheating on me with the live-in maid,
Who took care of his mother.
I confronted him at first,
but he denied it.

I don’t know how else to put it,
Other than that my father,
Is the cause of my affliction.
He spent his life cheating on my mother with other women.
She had no one but him.
She always tried to please him.

The first time I was hit was by my brother Mohamed.
I was 14 years old.
I was flirting with a couple of boys.
I was wearing a skirt that day,
And I was standing by the door.
How dare I stand by the door like that?
My brother hit me with a hose across my chest.
I asked God for revenge.
He was imprisoned the following day.
domestic violence, physical violence, parents, marriage