We were at a conference.
Later at the hotel,
As we were going back to our rooms,
One of my colleagues told me,
“I’m staying in room 13.”
gender violence, harassment, work

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

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

Inside me,
Is a man called Mohamed.
He comes out in different situations.
Like when Sara goes out alone,
Or goes out with her girl friends.

Ali: “Fuck that, how could my wife wear a swimsuit like this one?
And stand in front of men, while they look at her thighs?
Does it not bother you, Sherif, the idea of your wife wearing a swimsuit?”

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.”

I was driving across the May 15th Bridge on my way to Alef Bookstore. All of a sudden, I was bombarded with catcalls from a car full of seemingly drunk guys. It’s okay; this happens.

I was fed up with his silly blabber.
He didn’t stop talking the whole ride.
I remembered the stories I heard about taxi drivers.
I had one hand on the handle as he chattered away.

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.

I was in highschool at the time.
It was inappropriate to tell mama about this sort of thing,
She never said so,
But I had a feeling that what happened could not be talked about.