I’m 18 years old.
When I was 16,
I started to rebel against society.
I became defiant and started living freely.
I met a lot of people who helped me.
Other people I used to be close to,
Started drifting away,
Because they thought I was a bad person.
Just because I demanded my rights and was open about my feelings.

I never imagined something like this would ever happen.
I was on the bus, standing in the front, next to the seats for elderly people.
An old man was sitting in one of the seats, and an old woman was sitting beside him next to the window.
When she was getting off, he refused to move to let her through
gender violence, harassment, public transportation

You know, if you weren’t a public figure that appears on TV,
And who talks about women’s rights in the papers,
I would’ve loved you, married you, and made you quit your job to be a housewife.”

For the longest time, perhaps until after highschool, I thought all girls were like me.
Then I found out that not all of them were like me.
I didn’t understand what it meant. What’s the difference?
I would always avoid thinking about the incident.
Until a black cloud formed in my mind, engulfing the memory of this incident.

The first time I was molested,
Or the first time I realized that someone had molested me,
I was a 7 year old child.
He was an old man.
I was on the beach, and he took advantage of me being alone,
While my parents were away,
So he touched me.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, parents, suicide

I was in a microbus on my way home.
I was sitting in the first row.
Later, a man came and sat next to me.
The entire way it felt like a rod was poking me in the back of my thighs.
gender violence, sexual violence, public transportation, parents

I don’t know where it’s going to happen next time.
I can’t predict who’s going to harass me next time.
Everyone’s a potential harasser.
They’re the reason I can’t tell anyone.

A girl was walking to a supermarket near her house after iftaar  when a kid—no older than 18—said the most disgusting things to her as he fondled himself.

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.

The French teacher, Miss Lubnah, was very sweet and petite.
She spoke in broken Arabic,
But her French was perfect.
She was a great French teacher.