I learned to love him over the years,
as I watched him become a human being:
learning to talk
and becoming stubborn, bright, artistic, and funny.

One time, an old lady sat next to me on the tram.
She kept looking at me.
“Are you engaged?” she asked.
“No.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”

Whenever I see someone crying, especially my younger siblings,
I immediately tell them to stop.
I’m their older sibling and I must always appear strong.
They can’t cry because I can’t cry.
I have to hold it in.

I wore the hijab even though I wasn’t really convinced I should.
I was trying to please God, since it’s an obligation for Muslim women.
It was also a way of meeting society’s standards of being modest.

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.

Why are you late, missy?
What time is it?
You come home every day at 2 or 3 in the morning.

I love my sisters.
I love having them in my life.
But at the same time,
I wish I didn’t have any sisters,
Because of our society.
masculinity, social pressure

A girl was walking to a supermarket near her house after iftaar  when a kid—no older than 18—said the most disgusting things to her as he fondled himself.

I’m passive, weak, uneducated.
Veiled from head to toe.
One of his four wives.
Work in the kitchen all day.
And spread my legs wide at night.
That’s what you think, right?

I learned one day that my neighbor whom I used to play with was getting married.
She was almost 16 years old.
“I’ve got something that my husband will take from me and throw away tomorrow morning,” she said.