I took the metro one day during Ramadan,
And got on the women’s passenger car,
Because I didn’t want to be harassed,
Or even looked at.

How is it that he molests me, and takes away a part of me,
but I’m expected to censor myself when I tell the story?
I regret ever listening to what you had to say,
to what you call traditional or proper or haram.

They don’t want us to speak about what we see and hear.
They say that’s it’s improper and inappropriate.
But I’m forced to listen to it.
Why should I embellish an ugly reality?

I was waiting for the tram,
When I saw them coming towards me,
And calling two others from behind.

I was in third grade the first time I was sexually harassed.
 I don’t even really remember what happened, but I remember feeling that something wrong had happened.

The pregnant woman, awaiting her first baby. Taking pictures of herself every month because she's thrilled with her changing body and growing belly.
She goes out to see her doctor, to see what her baby looks like now. She gets catcalled by another filthy animal. He comments on her pregnant body:
"Who did this to you?"
Or "You shameless..."

A friend of mine used to catcall girls when we were in middle school.
I’m not embarrassed to say that I have friends who catcall,
Because if I was only friends with people who didn’t catcall,
I wouldn’t have any friends!
So this friend decided to catcall someone.

I was walking down a busy street one day,
When I felt someone press against my back.
There was someone embracing me from behind.
I thought it was someone I knew.
gender violence, harassment, the street

I was molested by my father when I was a child.

I am a senior in highschool.
Yesterday, I was with my friend.
The sun was very strong,
And we were waiting for the rest of our friends.
gender violence, sexual violence, the street, harassment