I used to judge people by their appearance.
I would think a girl was loose if I saw one smoking a cigarette, for example.
I would also judge girls if they were wearing provocative clothes.
masculinity, social stigma, social pressure, the street

I was on my way to school like any other day,
When I found everyone making fun of me because I was wearing pants and a t-shirt that were bigger in size than their clothes.
I weighed more than them.
I don’t know how this whole thing started.
bullying, body image, beauty standards, social pressure

My family was always very critical,
And they tended to make fun of people.
I was born with flawed joints.
I could walk very well and run and all that,
But when I stood,
My knees bent backward,
At first sight, it looked like my legs had been amputated.
My family always called me “Miss knees,”
And my mother always made fun of me in front of my siblings.
She thought I was inverting my knees like this on purpose.
She once even called me “disabled,”
And told me to straighten my knees.

I was climbing up the stairs, and I was wearing a short yellow jacket.
I always wear it on top of my pajamas when my mother sends me to buy her stuff from downstairs.
A tall and thin man, wearing a brown jacket came and stopped me,

Girls, I know that at this age, you like to flaunt your beauty.
“Look at my long hair!
Look at whatever!”
Here, you must forget about all those things.
The uniform you must wear is a galabiyya.
The kind your mothers wear.

Every day, I feel guilty towards my daughter.
There was a time in my life when, unfortunately, I had looked up to certain people in my life and felt that I had to act like them.
One of those people was a cousin of mine.

I hate feeling like a hypocrite: wearing one thing in front of friends, dressing differently in front of family.
I wish I could share pictures of me enjoying myself at the beach, but I can’t, my father would have a heart attack at the sight of me wearing a two-piece.

The first day of work went well.
I worked for a teacher at the mosque.
“Do whatever you can,” she said.
She’d check up on me every once in a while.
“Do you want some tea?”
“Are you hungry?
social pressure, work

It doesn’t matter at all.
I don’t mind if he marries another woman,
And visits me once a week,
Or even once a month!

I thought I did something wrong.
I did something wrong because I’m pretty.
He followed me and did what he did because I’m pretty.