I was on a bus with my mother and older sister.
The bus was empty, but there was a man standing next to me.
I found his penis next to my shoulder.
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, the street
I could never forget,
How in the midst of the screams, beatings, killing,
The fires and tear gas in Tahrir,
I felt your hand violating me.
I don’t know why I’m going to tell this story,
But I’ve bottled up so much inside me.
There was a period when my parents were separated,
And my grandfather interfered a lot in our lives.
He was a very cruel man,
And so was my mother.
I’m a girl, and I’m bullied every day,
Because I wear a cross.
People give me mean looks.
I try my best to ignore them, but they’re too much.
I’ve never really reacted to anything they’ve done.
But the way they look at me, it’s like they’re asking, “How dare you wear a cross?”
social stigma, harassment, the street
I was once riding the train on my way to university in Minya.
I was wearing boots that were mid-leg. They looked a lot like those combat boots which recruited soldiers wear.
I was alone on the train, no one was sitting beside me.
He slipped his hand under the table,
Put it on my leg,
And said,
“Do you know what a man and a woman do in bed?”
To which I naively and innocently replied,
“No.”
You said I was only pretending to be a liberal,
And I turned out to be a conservative woman who had issues,
Just like any other Egyptian woman.
You said that because I refused to do what you wanted.
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