Ever since childhood, people have treated me like I’m strange, provocative.
Ever since I was a child, I never felt like all the other boys.
gender identity, gender violence, harassment, body image, sexuality, social pressure, social stigma

My mother used to always take us to school in a taxi,
Because she’d worry about us.
She wasn’t feeling well one day,
And she made our big brother take us to school.
When we got on the bus,
We found our neighbor.
He called for me and my sister,
And he made me sit on his lap because it was crowded.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, harassment, the street, public transportation

“I want to lick your pussy,”
He said in a disgusting whisper.
It was 2 in the afternoon,
In a relatively wide street.
I turned around,
And my body froze.
I wanted to vomit.
Sexual violence; harassment; the street

“Okay then. I’ll make time for you. Get the papers with you. I’ll be waiting for you.
We didn’t get the chance to know each other well.
I don’t remember you, Noha.
We’ll get to know each other tomorrow.
And I’ll see your work, of course.
I want you to introduce yourself to me tomorrow.”

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 was harassed two years ago.
I was walking down the street,
And I felt someone following me,
So I went down another street,
But he kept following me.

My body started looking different when I hit puberty.
I started getting comments from the people around me.
About the weight I gained,
And humiliating and disgusting comments about different parts of my body.
body image, 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 was around 7 or 8 years at the most.
All I knew then was that there are parts in our body that "strangers" should not see or touch.
What I came to know later is that most sexual assaulters are people who are very close to you.

When I was in the eighth grade, there was a boy with me at school who was blond and fair-skinned. He was a grade younger than I was.
Wherever he went, the other students would harass him. He was absent a lot because of this. His father came in to complain more than once but to no avail.