I always hated my curly hair.
Looking back at my pictures when I was a baby, I always had this halo of baby hair that looked like I had just been electrocuted.
It was always tied up in a bun or a really tight braid, which caused my hairline to shift back a bit.

“My daughter is fat and black.
She doesn’t look like her siblings.
Even her brothers look nicer than she does.”
I’ve been taught to hate my body ever since I was young.
“You’re fat, black, and you have eyes as small as buttons.”
“Look at all the other girls. You’ll never get married.”

I’m a guy.
I was ten years old at the time.
We were living in a family house,
Which meant I was oftentimes left alone with other family members.
They’d tell me they were just going to play with my toys,
But we never actually played with them.

I was never good at picking out clothes,
Or following trends.
I was never exactly a fashionista.
I liked wearing whatever made me feel comfortable,
And whatever colors I liked.
I liked wearing long clothes as well.
I don’t like wearing makeup.
My parents always told me that I looked like a “beggar.”

We live in a society,
That determines whether you’ll be accepted or not,
Based on your weight,
Hair type,
Eye color,
And skin tone.

I was brought up to be a doctor.
That’s why I love science.
I became really good at it,
And was famous for being a good student at school.
My parents are regular people.
They didn’t know there were good or bad upbringings.
They didn’t have the best upbringing.
They worked hard to raise us the best way they could.
But it wasn’t always perfect, of course.

I’ve always been fat though with varying degrees.
I’m on a diet now, and I’m trying to eat healthy.

All my life, people have been telling me to lose weight,
Regardless of who these people are and what sort of relationship I have with them.
body image, bullying, beauty standards, parents

French teacher, bragging about her daughter's 50ish kgs perfect weight,
While my classmates, 15 y/o, join the discussion some being below that,
Some slightly above, but everyone in the room were of a normal weight except me,

I started wearing the hijab when I was 11 years old.
I took the decision to take it off.
At work, Hassan, the security guy didn’t recognize me right away.
“Good morning, Ms. Why did you do that?”
I know he meant well.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying

Girls, I know that at this age, you like to flaunt your beauty.
“Look at my long hair!
Look at whatever!”
Here, you must forget about all those things.
The uniform you must wear is a galabiyya.
The kind your mothers wear.