I once fell down the stairs and broke my leg.
My leg was extremely swollen when I went to the hospital.
It was just my luck that the doctor who examined me was the type who avoided looking at women.

How is it that he molests me, and takes away a part of me,
but I’m expected to censor myself when I tell the story?
I regret ever listening to what you had to say,
to what you call traditional or proper or haram.

“You eat with your left hand?
That’s haram.
How could your parents let you do that?”

Hello.
Sara.
Where are you?
Still at work?
What are people going to say?
How could a respectable lady be out this late?

I learned to love him over the years,
as I watched him become a human being:
learning to talk
and becoming stubborn, bright, artistic, and funny.

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

Did you see what Miss Hoda did to Sarah?
I was speaking to her from the bus window, and she was standing below.
Miss Hoda came and slapped her.

If, while baba was beating me, I cried, he’d hit me again for crying.
“If you cry, you’ll get hit. Men don’t cry”, he’d tell me.
Whenever he beat me, my main concern was to not cry.

Oh sweetheart, God bless you!
You’re all grown up and a bride now!
Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this day?
Since the moment I had you;
The second you were born and I found out that I had a girl.

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