I learned one day that my neighbor whom I used to play with was getting married.
She was almost 16 years old.
“I’ve got something that my husband will take from me and throw away tomorrow morning,” she said.

My appearance is what’s stopping me from getting on stage.
I’ve even considered cosmetic surgery.
I’m learning script writing so that I could play my own self on stage.
I’ll write a play that talks about people like me.
I’ll find someone like me to play the leading role.

After a certain age,
A girl no longer has the freedom to choose a suitable person to marry.

We were all girls like you once.
I was a young girl just like you before marrying your father.
We all went through the same things.
We’d just play sports and take a cold shower.

These are the eight scenes I remember from the crime that has left me scarred, psychologically and physically, since the age of ten.
The “cosmetic procedure” my mother made me undergo has made me hate this part of my body.
fgm, gender violence, social pressure

I was 14 in middle school, my teenage years, and I thought with my emotions a lot.
I talked to the first person that I liked and got to know him.
The happiest moments of my life were the hours I’d steal before or after class to talk to him.

I don’t like it when you tell me "clean shave" after I remove my facial hair.
I know I have facial hair like men do.
I also know that you say this as a joke, thinking it’s funny because I laugh when you say it.

“How are you, Ms. Souad?”
“I’m fine.”
“So, what degrees do you have?”
“I’ve got a degree in social services, and I’m currently working on my masters in community development. I’m supposed to finish this year.”
social pressure, marriage, arranged marriage, parents

I used to hear a lot about harassment but I never imagined it would happen to me.
I was sitting in a microbus when he stuck his arm out from behind me and touched my shoulder.
A little later, he did it again, and when I shouted at him, he said very coolly: "I didn't mean to."

I used to work as a sales person in a computer shop in Riyadh.
A woman wearing the niqab came in, and looked at me and my colleagues
“Oh, God bless, who of you should I talk to?” she asked
“You could talk to whoever you’re comfortable talking to, miss!”