“Heba.
We’ll call her Heba.”
I started to hate the name ever since my Arabic teacher in class once said,
“Heba in the Arabic language means attiya [gift] from God.”
Naturally, the kids at school ignored the “from God” part,
And started calling me “Attiya.” [editor’s note: Attiya is a common male name in Egypt].

I hated the name because it started with the letter “H”
Which meant I was always the last person to enter exams,
The last to get their seat number,
The last person sitting in the examination hall,
And the last letter in the whole language. [editor’s note: The letter “هـ,” which corresponds to the letter “h,” is the last letter in the Arabic alphabet)

But thank God,
I got to be my parents’ first child.
They had been trying to get pregnant again for ten years,
After their son died.
Perhaps that’s why they’re overprotective.
No, actually, that IS why they’re overprotective.

After nine whole months,
My sister came to the world.
Now we were two burdens.
I mean, two daughters.
It’s so they could raise us properly.
But it wasn’t actually their decision.
It was an inevitable consequence of the operations,
And cutting my mother’s abdomen open.
That’s what she had to go through to give birth to us.

Girls grow up a little bit every day.
They get taller,
Fatter,
And curvier.
They get ready for the day,
When they become ladies.

In elementary school: “Don’t sit next to boys.
Sit next to a girl like you.”
In middle school: “It’s inappropriate to call him a friend.
He’s only your colleague.”
In high school: “Dear Lord! Your breasts have gotten so big.
You need to wear a loose-fitting blouse to cover up those things.”
“Oh God, now your waist is showing.
Don’t you dare wear anything tight.”
“Why does your leg look like that?
Don’t wear high heels,
Or short skirts.”
“Don’t let anyone touch you.
Especially there.”
“Wear loose-fitting clothes.
You want to wear tight clothes to show off your curves?”
“Never forget that you’re a woman.”
“Never forget that you’re a woman.”