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.
Are you happy?
Are you as happy as your parents?
Do you love him?
Are you sure you’ll love him forever?
Is there such a thing as loving a person forever?
Noha and I are old friends.
Right before she and I started wearing the hijab, we went to rent a beach house.
Our hair was down and we were wearing summer clothes.
I can’t begin to tell you how well they treated us.
They were very respectful.
There is a voice in my head that says,
“You gotta stick up for yourself.
How can you not do anything?
Beat them up!
You gotta fight back.”
Look at me. Do you see me? Do you really see me?
Of course, all you see is a girl that looks like she comes from a good family.
But don’t be fooled by this quiet demeanour.
I’m burning on the inside.
No one can feel the anger inside me.
I married him twenty years ago.
Not a single year passed by without beatings, humiliation, scandals, and divorce.
He’s stingy and horrible.
He humiliates me in front of everyone.
He’s sick.
He has a terrible personality,
And he’s weak.
He doesn’t even perform his marital obligations—
He can’t do it.
He always finds something to hold over my head.
I’m fed up with him.
Ali: “Fuck that, how could my wife wear a swimsuit like this one?
And stand in front of men, while they look at her thighs?
Does it not bother you, Sherif, the idea of your wife wearing a swimsuit?”
I used to beat up the boys with me in class until primary school.
I was tall,
Had a big belly,
And the boys hadn’t reached puberty yet.
They used to call me the “big girl.”
Girls grow up a little bit every day.
They get taller,
Fatter,
And curvier.
They get ready for the day,
When they become ladies.