My problem is that I’m a kind and decent person.
The kind of person who thinks of others before acting, who puts himself in their shoes.
I literally have no friends, and I live far away from my family.
I even work online, so in a way, I don’t interact with people at all.

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.

“We can’t have a divorced woman in the family.
What will people say?
Once you’re married, that’s it.
You can’t get a divorce.”

The metro was really crowded.
I was in the women-only car.
All of a sudden, a man entered.
“You’re in the wrong car. Please get off,” a girl told him.

All girls are born with something and it’s taken by their husbands.
You were destined to get married since the day you were born.
This thing you have, he is going to take it today.

You gotta be a strong man.
You can’t be a teacher’s pet because that’d make you a sissy.
You gotta be clever.
And be friends with the right people.
You must have connections, and be in control.

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 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.”

As I was leaving Hijr-Ismail—it can get really crowded there—I felt someone shove their hand between my legs and grope me.
I immediately spun around and started punching the man behind me.
“In front of the Holy Kaaba, you kaafir?!” I screamed.

“Be careful while crossing the street.”
“Don’t take flowers from strangers.”
“Don’t walk down dark streets.”
The things I especially could never forget were,
“Don’t walk like a girl! Walk like a man!”