I gave birth to my first child.
I used to hear about postpartum depression.
I thought it happened due to the changing body.
But when I experienced it myself, I found out that there are more reasons behind it.
It felt as if I was battling a monster.
mental health, depression, postpartum depression, motherhood, social pressure, social stigma

I was sexually assaulted in public, and no one tried to help me.
It happened at night. They tied me up and started physically assaulting me.
Then, in turn, they started groping and molesting me.
When a passerby tried to intervene, they threatened to hit me again and to continue molesting me elsewhere.
gender violence, sexual violence, rape, social stigma, social pressure, the street

The heroine of my story, is a 34-year-old female.
Unmarried, beautiful, highly educated with a PhD, well-mannered, and open-minded.
Her major sin, which she will keep paying for throughout her life, is that she is over 30 and unmarried.

I don't regret anything;
I just had no idea what I was getting myself into:
the lies, the secrecy, the plotting,
the unethicality of the women of the family I was marrying into
and the blind denial of the men.

Ahmed: “What do you think of that hottie over there?”
Amr: “Which one? The veiled one?
I love veiled women.”
Ahmed: “Really?
Why?”
Amr: “You know when you get a wrapped present,
And you take your time unwrapping it?”
Ahmed: “I’m talking about the girl walking with her, man.
Of course I wasn’t talking about that woman over there.
She looks like the potential brides my mother makes me meet.”
Amr: “Your mother makes you meet potential brides?”
Ahmed: “Yeah, man.
All the time.
She thinks they’re all like her,
Or will be like her in exactly two years.
I’ve stopped meeting them,
So, now she sends me their pictures on Facebook.”

Look at me. Do you see me? Do you really see me?
Of course, all you see is a girl that looks like she comes from a good family.
But don’t be fooled by this quiet demeanour.
I’m burning on the inside.
No one can feel the anger inside me.

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.

Don’t shame us.
Do you understand? Don’t you understand?
The towels.
The sheets.

I’m 18 years old.
When I was 16,
I started to rebel against society.
I became defiant and started living freely.
I met a lot of people who helped me.
Other people I used to be close to,
Started drifting away,
Because they thought I was a bad person.
Just because I demanded my rights and was open about my feelings.

I covered my head in the tenth grade.
My brother—who had gone down the road of "piety and religious extremism"—forced me to wear the headscarf.
Since my older sister wasn't veiled—there's a 10 year difference between us and she's also older than him—