In middle school,
I used to love wearing shorts and dancing in front of the mirror.
My mother would smack me.

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 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.

When I was in middle school, someone beat me up.
We were playing football, and he beat me up, so I went home crying.
My dad saw me and asked why I was crying, so I told him what had happened.
masculinity, social pressure, parents

“You have a girly voice, and you have girly-looking fingers”.
“Why do you have boobs? You need to eat a lot of eggs”.
“You have hair as soft-looking as a girl’s”.
masculinity, social pressure, body image

I was one of those girls who wore the hijab during Ramadan when I was young.
I wore it during middle school and high school,
Because they told us that if a man admires our hair when we’re fasting,
That nullifies both his fast and ours.
social pressure, social stigma

“How’s it going, dear?”
“No good news for us?”
“No baby on the way?”
“I’ll give you the most important piece of advice:
Take good care of your home and husband.

I want to be pretty like you.
So people think I’m beautiful when I get married.
But what will happen if I never become pretty like you?

Everything about the streets is upsetting.
I get scared and worried whenever I walk down the street.
Scared of what will happen.
Of what I see, and the way they would touch you.
I wish that one day I could walk feeling safe.
gender violence, harassment, social pressure, the street

There’s a woman I know who’s been married for 12 years.
She’s been working ever since she got married,
And so has her husband.
She doesn’t own a car,
So she has to take public transportation or an Uber.
Back in the day,
There was no other form of transportation except public transportation or the metro.
This woman is about 8 years older than me.
She didn’t stop working when she had a daughter,
And a son 5 years later.
social pressure, marriage, motherhood, work