I hate feeling like a hypocrite: wearing one thing in front of friends, dressing differently in front of family.
I wish I could share pictures of me enjoying myself at the beach, but I can’t, my father would have a heart attack at the sight of me wearing a two-piece.
I was always humiliated and beaten up over the most trivial reasons.
He’d hit me and flip the dining table over if there was just a little extra salt in his food.
I was never allowed to open my mouth and give my opinion.
Cooking zucchini was always a frightening experience, because if just one piece of zucchini turned out smaller than the other, it’d be a disaster.
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!
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.”
My dad tells me, "If you get into a fight, you won't be able to do anything, and you'll get beat up."
My friend tells me, "This isn't a man's body!"
and my sister makes fun of me!
I'm going to start going to the gym or I'll take up a sport, but when I do that, I'll be doing it for myself, and not for anyone else.