I work in a pharmacy.
One day an old lady walked in with her daughter.
“Assalam alikum. Are you a miss or a mrs.?”
“I’m the pharmacist,” I replied, “Can I help you?”
She asked for some pills.
Then I heard her telling her daughter:
“It’s alright to ask her.”

Every month, she’d pick up and leave, taking our son with her. She’d stay at her parents and prevent me from seeing my son.
When I’d try to make up with her, she’d only relent on the condition that I obey her every word.
Otherwise, she’d go back to her parent’s place, and I’d be deprived of my son again.
divorce, marriage, romantic relationships

She’ll welcome you with a wide smile: “Hair or beard?”
Then she will burst out laughing: “We’re barbers too, but female barbers!”.
Most probably this is how you’ll get to know Hayam, through her “hair or beard” question.
She won’t care if this is your first time or your hundredth.

I’m a woman who has been struggling her entire life.
Ever since I was a little girl,
I’ve been struggling.
My father was a national railways inspector.
He passed away.
I got married to a man who came from a modest family.
I thought they’d care about my wellbeing.

Why tie yourself down with a kid when you’re divorced?
No one will want to marry you.
It’s better that her father and grandmother raise her.
She’d belong to them and you could finally live your life freely.

For the longest time, perhaps until after highschool, I thought all girls were like me.
Then I found out that not all of them were like me.
I didn’t understand what it meant. What’s the difference?
I would always avoid thinking about the incident.
Until a black cloud formed in my mind, engulfing the memory of this incident.

Her family thought she was a slut.
They thought she had sex with him.

Her sister was positive she did something bad with him.
Otherwise she wouldn’t be insisting on marrying him.
She must be trying to cover up what she did.

I’m not the one going through this.
It’s a close friend of mine who is,
But she’s not strong enough to share her story.
She’s been married to a man for 18 years.
It started with infertility,
Then with his parents getting involved,
And insulting her.

I was eighteen years old,
When my father would hit me and tell me,
“Will you answer back to your husband like this?”
“Will my husband hit me and treat me like this? I asked him.
“He’s going to beat you into pieces.
And if you come running to me,
I’ll send you back to him,” he replied.
domestic violence; physical violence; gender violence; parents; marriage

“The best thing about you is your tan,” he’d always tell me.
“What tan?” I’d laugh, “I am as dark as chocolate.”
“And I’m crazy about chocolate” he’d respond adoringly.