I never ran or even moved from my place.
I remember really well,
When I’d run up the stairs,
Or run in Agamy market.
I used to wear skirts and blouses.
I had a good body, and my breasts were relatively perky.
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, the street
I stopped going to school at that time.
I didn’t know what harassment was, but there was a rape incident being talked about on TV.
I thought he had raped me.
When I finally found the courage to start going out again, I would hide behind other women in the street.
I was on the tram on my way to Ain Shams University.
The tram was a bit crowded.
A girl, who seemed older than 25, came and stood next to me.
I was holding on to the rail because I have a disability.
She pushed her breasts against my arm.
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, public transportation
Don’t you dare think of pressing charges like those women in the movie did.
A respectable girl would never go into a police station full of men and tell them that a man, for example, grabbed her here or touched her leg.
This country is full of incidents like these, and women never speak up. Don’t you go playing the hero
There was a guy in a red car,
Who kept slowing down for me.
He kept saying something,
But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.
All I can say is that it was about a specific part of my back.
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.
We were walking down the street, holding hands.
A man passed us by and laughed in derision.
“What are you in love or something?”
social stigma, sexuality, harassment, the street