I used to judge people by their appearance.
I would think a girl was loose if I saw one smoking a cigarette, for example.
I would also judge girls if they were wearing provocative clothes.
masculinity, social stigma, social pressure, the street
I used to always watch her from the examination room window in the government hospital that I worked at.
Her name was Sokkara. She was young. She couldn’t be older than 13 years old.
As I was leaving Hijr-Ismail—it can get really crowded there—I felt someone shove their hand between my legs and grope me.
I immediately spun around and started punching the man behind me.
“In front of the Holy Kaaba, you kaafir?!” I screamed.
“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.
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.