I got married to an old man I didn’t consent to marrying.
Of course, this is how it is in the country.
They act without taking a girl’s consent.
I felt sorry for myself because they married me off to an old man.
gender violence, marriage, divorce, motherhood

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

Unbelievable, right?
It's hard to believe that a man as selfless as him exists.
Imagine being with a man who gives you love, kisses, and cuddles and spoils you without wanting anything in return.

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

When I got engaged,
He would routinely humiliate me in front of my fiancé.
When you do so in front of him,
He’ll do the same to me when we’re married,
And that’s eventually what happened.
domestic violence, gender violence, physical violence, parents, divorce, marriage

I got married after a 6-year love story.
He was everything to me.
I insisted on him, despite the large socio-economic gap between us.
“He won’t be able to support you on that salary. They’re not like us,” my family said.
gender violence, sexual violence, marriage, divorce

But I realised that he’d been lying to me.
He embarasses me in front of people and makes fun of my work and my opinions.
And if love is not there, then there is no reason for us to stay together.
But I realised that there are so many people who don’t see that as a valid enough reason.

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.