One time I got a suitor who had really good manners.
There was nothing wrong with him, but I rejected him.
I just didn’t feel it.
After I rejected him, my uncle called me and said
“The suitor called and he’s visiting us tomorrow.”
social pressure, social stigma, marriage
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.
Ever since childhood, people have treated me like I’m strange, provocative.
Ever since I was a child, I never felt like all the other boys.
gender identity, gender violence, harassment, body image, sexuality, social pressure, social stigma
I thought it was a small apartment,
But it turned out to be really big.
She wanted me to change her baby’s diapers,
And make them breakfast,
While she and her husband and baby were asleep.
I hated work because of her.
My job was supposed to be just cleaning and tidying.
social pressure, work
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 was one of those girls who wore the hijab during Ramadan when I was young.
I wore it during middle school and high school,
Because they told us that if a man admires our hair when we’re fasting,
That nullifies both his fast and ours.
social pressure, social stigma
The first time he hit me was the day I found out I was pregnant.
He picked a fight with me when his friend and his wife were having dinner with us,
And I fried the mombar (a kind of sausage dish),
Before the chicken breasts.
He pulled me by my hair,
And dragged me to the stove,
And threatened to set me on fire to get rid of me.