Mama used to beat me up,
Using her hands,
Slippers,
A rod.
The rod was only used for beatings.
She used to beat me when I was young,
Over the smallest, and most trivial things.
I was the one who got beaten the most.
That’s why I’m the one who's afraid of her the most among my siblings.
I think twice before doing anything.

The least she would do,
Was pinch me really hard,
Until I bruised.
When I grew up,
She started pulling my hair.
I could never forget that one time,
When I was in middle school,
While we were in a shop buying things,
And I said to her,
“No, I don’t like it,”
She slapped me across the face in front of the salesman.

We went through a difficult time,
When baba divorced her,
And stopped providing for us.
She became even more violent.
If I cried while she was beating me,
She’d beat me harder,
So I’d stop crying.
She removed my bedroom door,
Because I used to sit alone in my room with the door closed.
Even though I didn’t use to lock it with a key or bolt.
I had to turn off the lights,
And sit in a dark corner to cry.
I used to cry silently,
So she wouldn’t hear me.

She kept beating me even during high school.
She’d grab me by my veil in the street in front of everyone,
Or in the car at the school gate,
In front of my friends.