Since I was a child,
My father wanted me to grow up to be a good person.
He wanted me to be educated and open-minded.
He believed that all women should grow up to be like his mother no matter how they were brought up.
But I didn't take after my grandmother.

“Why can’t I go tell him: I love you and I want to marry you?”
“Have you lost your mind? How could you do something like that?”

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

I hate people’s reactions at work when they meet me for the first time.
“You’re very brave to be veiled.”
“Veiled girls should get married and stay at home.”
And “Veiled girls aren’t competent workers.”

My sister once gave me a card with pink flowers and pearls on it and some words on the back.
“My friend made them,” she said.
“She’s giving them out for free.”

My appearance is what’s stopping me from getting on stage.
I’ve even considered cosmetic surgery.
I’m learning script writing so that I could play my own self on stage.
I’ll write a play that talks about people like me.
I’ll find someone like me to play the leading role.

Mamdouh, Mamdouh, get up!
I’ve heard that the apartment in front of ours has been rented by two girls.

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.

Being a woman is hard. Really hard.
Everything is exhausting.
It requires tremendous effort just to live a normal life.

I hugged my friend out in public because he needed it, and because I needed it too.
When I heard the comments, I pulled away from him by saying, “What’s this? You’re crying?”
But I had wanted to keep on hugging him until he had let it all out.
I wanted to hug him without fearing or worrying what passersby would say.