“How’s it going, dear?”
“No good news for us?”
“No baby on the way?”
“I’ll give you the most important piece of advice:
Take good care of your home and husband.
The first time he hit me was the day I found out I was pregnant.
He picked a fight with me when his friend and his wife were having dinner with us,
And I fried the mombar (a kind of sausage dish),
Before the chicken breasts.
He pulled me by my hair,
And dragged me to the stove,
And threatened to set me on fire to get rid of me.
I loved playing football when I was ten years old.
I would beg my mother to let me play with them.
And the answer was always,
“You’re a girl. I can’t just leave you in the streets alone.”
social pressure, social stigma, parents, marriage
The first time I was hit was by my brother Mohamed.
I was 14 years old.
I was flirting with a couple of boys.
I was wearing a skirt that day,
And I was standing by the door.
How dare I stand by the door like that?
My brother hit me with a hose across my chest.
I asked God for revenge.
He was imprisoned the following day.
domestic violence, physical violence, parents, marriage
Like any young man in Egypt, I dreamt of owning an apartment, starting a family, and settling down.
After I got married, God blessed me with the most beautiful girl in the world, then later on, a little boy.
My wife—the mother of my children—suddenly left after a conflict that rose between us.
She filed a lawsuit against me, in which she claimed that I damaged her property.
marriage, divorce, romantic relationships