I thought I did something wrong.
I did something wrong because I’m pretty.
He followed me and did what he did because I’m pretty.

I have a problem with my body.
It suddenly got bigger and I felt the need to always hide it.
I had to hide my hair and my breasts.
And menstruation was the biggest secret of all.

I used to work as a sales person in a computer shop in Riyadh.
A woman wearing the niqab came in, and looked at me and my colleagues
“Oh, God bless, who of you should I talk to?” she asked
“You could talk to whoever you’re comfortable talking to, miss!”

The metro was really crowded.
I was in the women-only car.
All of a sudden, a man entered.
“You’re in the wrong car. Please get off,” a girl told him.

Hello.
Sara.
Where are you?
Still at work?
What are people going to say?
How could a respectable lady be out this late?

I’m your mother and I have your best interests at heart.
I’m telling you it’s not going to work out.
Building your lives together is not something that’ll work.

No one ever told me not to cry
But for some reason, I knew crying was shameful.
So, basically if you cry, you're not a real man.

Everyone believes that this piece of fabric not only covers my head, but my brain too, affecting its ability to function intellectually.
I’m always told that my actions and ideas don’t befit my headscarf.
People always expect me to act like a nun, and to always defend the headscarf and the conduct of every covered female.

“How can you cross your legs like that?
Do you not have dick?”

I like my job, but I wish it was treated like any other job.
All jobs have evolved except ours.
Cooks have become chefs, doormen are now security guards…
But people still look down on our job.
We’re embarrassed to tell people we clean homes.
social pressure, social stigma, work, marriage