I don’t really remember the details of the first day,
But I remember being afraid.
Afraid of growing up,
Of having to wear the hijab.
Of not being young anymore,
And the changes my body will go through.

The Women of Establ Antar
Those women were in control of their bodies, unlike most of the women in the city.
They would bellydance anywhere, anytime.

I don’t know if there’s anything I like about my body.
I don’t know if there’s anything I like about bodies in general.
It’s because my thoughts are always fixated on the parts I don’t like or want on my body.
body image, womanhood

I got my period at the end of elementary school,
During the summer vacation.
I didn’t know what it was.
I thought I was sick,
Or had some sort of problem.
I asked my mother in tears.
“It’s normal,” she said.
She didn’t explain anything.
“Normal how?” I asked her.
She still didn’t explain anything to me.

I was in the sixth grade the first time I got it.
I went to the bathroom,
And discovered that I was bleeding.
I don’t remember if someone had talked to me about it before,
But I remember knowing that I wasn’t injured.
I told my mother and she was happy.
That’s how I knew it was a good thing.

I’ve always liked to read about everything.
I got my period in the eighth grade,
And I knew what it was from the things I had read.
I used to place tissues in my underwear,
Until I found out about pads.

I didn’t drink milk because I didn’t
want to grow breasts ...

I always imagined myself with short hair.
Until I got it cut.
I was happy.
I felt like myself.

It was me and two or three other girls on the bus.
Two of them were veiled and one was wearing the niqab.
We were all standing in a corner.
We were surrounded by men.
There was a man sitting with his legs wide open and laughing loudly.
It was as if he was the owner of the bus and could act any way he liked.

I was 9 years old.
I remember coming back from school,
And finding some blood in my underwear.
I thought I’d gotten injured,
And didn’t give it much thought.
I became afraid the following days,
When there was still more blood.
I didn’t want to tell my mother,
So she wouldn’t yell at me.