I once wrote an article about FGM (Female Genital Mutilation),
And wasn’t sure if I should publish it.
I decided to take my friends’ opinions,
Both male and female.
I was with a friend when he was reading the article.
His reaction was cold and strange.
We talked about FGM,
And he told me that he didn’t really understand what it was.
He didn’t understand how it happens,

And how it affects women.

There were a lot of women of different ages on the stairs,
And everywhere else.
They were all gathered in front of a specific room.
I was terrified.
I didn’t know what was happening.
Then, a tall, chubby man came out,
Carrying the older girl’s sister.
She wasn’t wearing any pants,
And she was bandaged up.

It was my dad who made the decision.
When my mother objected,
He threatened to get one of his doctor friends to do it behind her back.
I found that out,
Ten years after they took away a part of my body.

One day,
In the middle of the first term of seventh grade,
Mama sent me over to my aunt’s.
“Go see what she wants,” she said.
When I went over to her place,
She told me to accompany her to the doctor’s.
I thought she was sick.
While we were waiting for our turn, she said,
“The doctor is going to examine you.”

I was circumcised when I was in sixth grade.
I was aware of everything,
And tried to talk to my mother,
But she was passive,
And didn’t care.
Even though she complained a lot about her sex life,
And how it does nothing for women.
gender violence, physical violence, fgm, sex

I don’t have a single clear memory of my experience with FGM.
Because ever since it happened,
I’ve avoided thinking about anything related to my body.
I always feel like there’s something missing.
That I’m not a complete girl.
This all happened because of my family’s beliefs.
They’re from Gharbia.
gender violence, physical violence, fgm

The ancient rural house always filled me with fear.
The fear doesn’t just stem from the tales that we weaved around it,
but also from the terrifying scene that I once witnessed in the courtyard of that house.
This scene has been imprinted in my mind for many years, and I haven't been able to shake it off till now.

I was 12 when I travelled with my family at the end of term to Upper Egypt.
That’s where the story began.
One day, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach,
I felt nauseous for three days straight.
That’s when my aunt, who was a 65 year old uneducated woman, decided,
“Our girl is getting older… the midwife must visit.”

I have been following the campaign for a while
I feel pain for all these girls.
I am not sure how my story will come across in comparison to all these painful stories.
I was lucky that the doctor refused to conduct the procedure,
And said, “there doesn't seem to be anything worth cutting”

I don’t remember my circumcision clearly.
Ever since it happened,
I’ve been avoiding thinking about anything related to my body.
I always feel like there’s something missing.
That I’m not really a girl.
My family’s strange beliefs are the reason for this.

That is why I hate my body,
Every inch of it.