You know, if you weren’t a public figure that appears on TV,
And who talks about women’s rights in the papers,
I would’ve loved you, married you, and made you quit your job to be a housewife.”

My mother started buying me things for my dowry when I was in middle school.
She got so many towels, sheets, underwear, blankets,
Pots and cups.

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.

“Tell me, dear.
Are there any potential suitors?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.
Just tell me if there’s someone.

My dad was engaged to a woman called Aida before he married my mom. Mom used to ask him, "Why did you break it off with her?"

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

I was making my way out of the Ramses metro station—I lived in Shubra at the time.
I was wearing a maxi skirt and a long sleeved shirt, and my hair was tied back into a bun.
I look disheveled. 
gender violence, sexual violence, social pressure, public transportation

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.

She’ll welcome you with a wide smile: “Hair or beard?”
Then she will burst out laughing: “We’re barbers too, but female barbers!”.
Most probably this is how you’ll get to know Hayam, through her “hair or beard” question.
She won’t care if this is your first time or your hundredth.

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