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

They always say that women have to endure and bear shit.
They have to endure and endure.
Okay.
Yes, sir.
As you say.
Yes, yes, yes!

How is it that he molests me, and takes away a part of me,
but I’m expected to censor myself when I tell the story?
I regret ever listening to what you had to say,
to what you call traditional or proper or haram.

I’m 32 years old.
I’m divorced, and I don’t have any children.
When I turned 32, everyone pressured me into getting married.
I honestly wasn’t really looking forward to it.

I still can’t forget the look on his face as he passed me by in a toktok after he had touched me from behind.
“Take that”, he said.
That was the first time I was sexually harassed. I was 15.

Everyone knew that these pictures were fake and fabricated and that she didn’t do anything.

But their reaction was that they wanted to kill her.

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.

I wish I could stop worrying about every word I say and every move I make.
I wish I didn’t have to hide parts of myself.
I wish I didn’t care about what people think.

You’re a slut.
You travel with boys.
You smoke.
And your paintings?!
You brought us shame,
Don’t come back home.

No, no, no, no, you need to go to the hairdresser’s.
You are Egyptian now like us!
We just want...you know... for you to look cute and pretty.
Come on, especially so we can find you a man!