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

Why are you late, missy?
What time is it?
You come home every day at 2 or 3 in the morning.

I stopped wearing the hijab a few months ago.
Ramadan is approaching and I’m terrified.
I’m afraid of what my family might say.
I’m afraid of what people in the street will say.
social stigma, hijab, hair, harassment, the street, social pressure

I have been suffering, even before I got married, from a disease in my uterus.
It prevents me from having children.
I underwent several operations in the hopes that, one day, I could be a mother.
The disease also induced other health-related problems.
Being sterile makes me feel like a second-rate woman.
motherhood, social pressure, social stigma

There’s a woman I know who’s been married for 12 years.
She’s been working ever since she got married,
And so has her husband.
She doesn’t own a car,
So she has to take public transportation or an Uber.
Back in the day,
There was no other form of transportation except public transportation or the metro.
This woman is about 8 years older than me.
She didn’t stop working when she had a daughter,
And a son 5 years later.
social pressure, marriage, motherhood, work

It didn’t feel normal or spontaneous.
Between being scolded by your conservative [female] relative for doing something “immodest” and listening to your friends whispering about touching certain [private] areas on maids’ and female cousins’ bodies, you eventually learn to associate the opposite sex’s body with shame.
There has got to be something shameful about it.

Everything about the streets is upsetting.
I get scared and worried whenever I walk down the street.
Scared of what will happen.
Of what I see, and the way they would touch you.
I wish that one day I could walk feeling safe.
gender violence, harassment, social pressure, the street

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."

“What’s up with your hair? Put water or oils on it to make it softer.”
“Why is your hair like that? Why do you have such ugly hair?”
“Have your mother style it for you because it looks horrible like that.”
“Looks like the doorman’s wife styles your hair.”
beauty standards, hair, body image, bullying, social pressure

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