Ahmed: “What do you think of that hottie over there?”
Amr: “Which one? The veiled one?
I love veiled women.”
Ahmed: “Really?
Why?”
Amr: “You know when you get a wrapped present,
And you take your time unwrapping it?”
Ahmed: “I’m talking about the girl walking with her, man.
Of course I wasn’t talking about that woman over there.
She looks like the potential brides my mother makes me meet.”
Amr: “Your mother makes you meet potential brides?”
Ahmed: “Yeah, man.
All the time.
She thinks they’re all like her,
Or will be like her in exactly two years.
I’ve stopped meeting them,
So, now she sends me their pictures on Facebook.”

One of the situations I’ll never forget
Was when I was walking in the street where I live - the street is dark and not well-lit -
And a boy who works at a clinic in the building next to ours had his fly open and his penis sticking out.

We might see things differently,
But the guy on the outside sees my sister, my mother, and my fiance as mere “females”.
A body, a hole to fill, a corpse, a mattress,
A ride, a bang, a screw, a fuck,
A piece of meat everyone wants to tear into with their teeth

I was late to my course.
It was the first class and I couldn’t be late.
I was walking quickly.
I was wearing regular clothes: jeans and a t-shirt.
There was a bridge next to the building where the course was.
I crossed it, according to the directions I was given.
gender violence, sexual violence, body image, the street

I was walking down a busy street one day,
When I felt someone press against my back.
There was someone embracing me from behind.
I thought it was someone I knew.
gender violence, harassment, the street

I don’t know where it’s going to happen next time.
I can’t predict who’s going to harass me next time.
Everyone’s a potential harasser.
They’re the reason I can’t tell anyone.

An elderly man was standing in line behind me. He was wearing a white jalabiyah. He had a thin beard.
He placed a hand on each of my shoulders. He gripped them tightly and pressed his penis against my behind.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, the street

I was walking down Faisal Street with Nada.
We were on our way back from a funeral.
I could feel that Nada was waiting for someone to say something,
So she’d hit them.
I was scared.
Oh, God!

I was fifteen years old.
I was visiting the countryside,
Where I went on a walk with my cousins and sisters.
Eid here is different.
One should not go out after noon.
I didn’t know that when I suggested going for a walk.

One time, a man stood across from me for quite a while. When I turned to leave, he said, “What huge tits! I really want to suck on them.”
gender violence, harassment, the street