I wasn’t brave enough to tell my family that I wanted to stop wearing the hijab.
They’re Salafists,
And I could predict their reaction.
Whenever I attended tutoring lessons,
I’d look at the other girls’ clothes,
Clothes I was forbidden from wearing at that age.
I didn’t like going out most of the time,
Because people always called me an old lady,
Because of how I dressed.
That made me hate the way I looked.

I tried to take it off behind their backs.
I used to go to school early,
Before my classmates started showing up,
And I’d take it off.
I left school last,
So I could put it back on without being seen.
I’d go over to a friend’s before tutoring lessons,
And she’d lend me a pair of pants to wear like them.

This went on for a while,
Until my family found out.
One day,
In the middle of class,
While the teacher was explaining something,
My parents stormed into the classroom,
And scolded me in front of my classmates.
They dragged me back home,
While everyone watched.
I was forced to stay home,
Beaten up,
And forbidden from going anywhere or continuing my education.

I managed to run away after some time,
Before they could force me into an arranged marriage.
I went and lived far away.
I still can’t forget what happened or get over it.
I hate them.
I’ll never forgive them for the pain they caused me.
If I could wish for one thing,
It would be to have been born to a normal and understanding family.
A family that cares more about the mental health of their children,
Than about what people, society, and religion say.