I wanted to be a boy when I was young.
My brother and our cousins would be allowed to play in the garden behind our house until late, but not me.
They used to hop the fence, play hooky, then come back and lie about it, make up stories.

As for me, if I even so much as tried to call my cousin at night they’d tell me
“Why? Aren’t you going to see each other tomorrow morning?
No, enough with all of this talking, else you’ll turn into a chatterbox.”

If I went to visit my cousin and stay until a TV show ended, let’s say around 9 o’clock, then I’d be considered late.
I used to stay up all night crying.
“Why am I not a boy?!”
What’s so wrong with me watching television until 9:00 pm?
And yet it’s normal and okay for them to stay out until 3 in the morning.

Baba was really difficult.
He didn’t have to hit us; it was enough for him to just stop us and say all kinds of threats.
I’d imagine the beatings and that shut me up.
“I’ll beat you to death!”

I knew what that meant cause I’d see the way my brother was beaten.
Afterwards, my dad would tell me:
“You’re a girl! It’s not like when your brother is beaten.
If I beat you up, your body would be black and blue all over and you’d die!”