My life now takes place entirely between four walls.
I don’t go out. I don’t go anywhere.
I don’t know what people want from me.
I just want peace. I want someone to tell me words of comfort.
I want someone to ask me what’s hurting me. 
prison, marriage, divorce, social stigma, social pressure

Since I was a child,
My father wanted me to grow up to be a good person.
He wanted me to be educated and open-minded.
He believed that all women should grow up to be like his mother no matter how they were brought up.
But I didn't take after my grandmother.

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.

My family was always very critical,
And they tended to make fun of people.
I was born with flawed joints.
I could walk very well and run and all that,
But when I stood,
My knees bent backward,
At first sight, it looked like my legs had been amputated.
My family always called me “Miss knees,”
And my mother always made fun of me in front of my siblings.
She thought I was inverting my knees like this on purpose.
She once even called me “disabled,”
And told me to straighten my knees.

I was the only girl in an office full of men.
Sometimes, I’d have to work for twelve hours straight.
I’d get so exhausted when I got my period that I’d sometimes faint.
It’s not reasonable for me to get exhausted every month,
So I devised a story about how there’s something wrong with my kidneys.

I wish I could stop worrying about every word I say and every move I make.
I wish I didn’t have to hide parts of myself.
I wish I didn’t care about what people think.

There are things I don’t know how to tell easily to anyone,
because people are judgemental.
Whenever anything related to girls’ bodies, needs, or desires is mentioned

I’m a guy.
I was ten years old at the time.
We were living in a family house,
Which meant I was oftentimes left alone with other family members.
They’d tell me they were just going to play with my toys,
But we never actually played with them.

“We’ll force you to wear the veil.”
We heard that line a lot from Salafis.
We heard it from bus drivers and people who sat next to us on buses and metros.
We heard it constantly.

My sister once gave me a card with pink flowers and pearls on it and some words on the back.
“My friend made them,” she said.
“She’s giving them out for free.”