My hair changed as I got older. It became frizzy and messy.
My mom always tied it back for me.
It made me cry because I wanted to let my hair down like the other girls.
I didn’t like receiving comments and getting weird looks from my relatives.
“Why is your hair so messy?”
“Brush your hair.”
And other comments I still remember until this day.
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

“Do you have good or bad hair?”
I get this question all the time from everyone around me.
But I’ve never mustered up the courage to reply.
So I tell them: “Yeah, my hair isn’t straight.”
Despite my family’s efforts to convince me that I had nice hair as a baby,
All of the kids at school were skilled in the art of bullying.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying

My cousin came to visit us one day.
“Why does your hair look like a toilet brush?”
he asked me when I opened the door.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying

I’m a girl, but I never let anyone see my hair.
Even at home.
Even when I’m asleep or coming out of the shower.
I cover my hair at all times because of the abuse I get subjected to and because of the way they look at me.
“Your hair is coarse.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

I have big ears.
That’s not a bad thing!
But I’ve been bullied a lot.
The kind of bullying that made me hate the fact that I have big ears.
I would imagine sometimes going into the bathroom with a pair of scissors and cutting them off.

My sister and I were requesting a case postponement when we found out that we had been sentenced to prison.
I had helped my brother borrow money for his daughter’s marriage.
I didn’t take any of the money myself; I only helped him out but he didn’t return the money.
My sister used to buy things which she would then sell.
prison, bullying, physical violence, social stigma

When I was in middle school, I loved my science teacher so much.
I was a good student so he, too, loved me.
During winter breaks, they always gave us a lot of homework to do.
One time during the break, I got sick and went to Cairo to get treated,
So I didn’t do the homework.

I’m a guy.
I weigh 135 kg.
I’ve been bullied ever since I was 10.
People would make fun of the size of my chest.

I was never loved when I was a kid,
Because of my skin tone.
It was light brown,
But people liked to judge by appearances.
They’d always look at me at school,
As if I were different,
Until I started believing it.

Every single day,
People passing me by in the street,
Shout insults at me:
“Blackie!”
“Shikabala!”
“Why’s it dark all of the sudden?”
“Disgusting!”