Whenever I see someone crying, especially my younger siblings,
I immediately tell them to stop.
I’m their older sibling and I must always appear strong.
They can’t cry because I can’t cry.
I have to hold it in.

You’re a slut.
You travel with boys.
You smoke.
And your paintings?!
You brought us shame,
Don’t come back home.

One day I called her to see if we can go out together to the mall so that I can shop for some clothes and other things I needed. She said: “OK, but I have to take my dad’s permission first because he’s off from work today and he’s staying home and I won’t be able to fool him.”

"No, Hatem is such a girl. He's shy and doesn't like talking about asses and boobs and stuff like that!"

I found out two years ago by pure chance that I had a tumor in my uterus.
“The position of the tumor is critical and we might have to remove the uterus,” the doctor said.
I was terrified.
It wasn’t that I was worried it would stop me from getting married.

She stood, pretty as a picture,
In the midst of a place that despised beauty.
The eyes of the passengers, once cold and dead, were now filled with anger and jealousy.
Filled with unspoken words I’ve heard before.

I’m starting to believe that men see women merely as something that serves their pleasure.
Very few of them treat women as human beings,
Who have their own dreams, and desires,
And could be useful in things other than pleasure.
And you should ask me about men,
Because she who raises a monkey knows their games!
gender violence, hijab, romantic relationships, parents, social pressure, sex, body image, sexuality, consent

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

“When will you get married?" they ask me every time I’m home.
They treat me like I’m their little project, and they have to make sure I get my happy ever after.
I always joke that they act like my expiration date is coming up.
But to be honest, I’m scared.

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.”