I’m passive, weak, uneducated.
Veiled from head to toe.
One of his four wives.
Work in the kitchen all day.
And spread my legs wide at night.
That’s what you think, right?

For years, I never cried in front of anyone.
“Man up. You’re weak,”
My mother used to tell me.

I have to sit a certain way, I can't move my hands when I speak.
I can't cry around people, and if someone hits me, I have to hit them back. These are just a few examples of things I should do if I want "to be a man."
I’m still going to be myself, no matter how much this costs me and no matter how many times people tell me that I'm "not a man."

“Tell me, dear.
Are there any potential suitors?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.
Just tell me if there’s someone.

Growing up, I was taught that girls were responsible for preserving their honor.
I, as a man, have nothing to do with it.
My mother never brought up the word “honor” around me or my brother.

One incident I remember the most,
Is when my maternal uncle hit me because of my mother.
My mother is not an easy going woman.
My uncle’s wife was insulting my mother in her presence.
I tried to talk back,
But my mother told me not to.
I couldn’t stay quiet,
So I asked my uncle’s wife,
“Why are you insulting my mother?”
domestic violence, physical violence, parents, social pressure

I know how to tweeze and thread.
I'm an employee by day, but I do these things at night.
The troll I'm married to sits at home all day and doesn't make a penny to spend on the kids, and he gives me a beating every other day or so.

I stopped wearing the hijab a few months ago.
Ramadan is approaching and I’m terrified.
I’m afraid of what my family might say.
I’m afraid of what people in the street will say.
social stigma, hijab, hair, harassment, the street, social pressure

I was climbing up the stairs, and I was wearing a short yellow jacket.
I always wear it on top of my pajamas when my mother sends me to buy her stuff from downstairs.
A tall and thin man, wearing a brown jacket came and stopped me,

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