I was 20 years old when I went to prison.
I kept trying to run away on the first day, and each time Umm Zakaria would run after me and bring me back.
“What’s the matter with you? Will you keep trying to run away like this?”
“They’re going to hurt me in there.”
prison, bullying

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.

I was born with an autoimmune disease,
That attacks the thyroid gland.
I started showing symptoms when I was 5 years old.
I was a fat child.
I’ve been fat for as long as I could remember.
I was bullied ever since I was little,
By everyone in my life,
Because of my weight.

I was a bit fat when I was a teenager,
And I had freckles.
I was always told I’d look pretty if I lost a bit of weight.
“Why don’t you go see a dermatologist for your freckles?”
“How come you’re not skinny like your siblings?

Mama likes to make remarks about everything:
“Why do you look like that?”
“Why do you look pale?”
“Why are there dark circles under your eyes?”
“Why are there dark spots around your mouth?”
“Why are you eating like that?”
“Why are your fingers so long?”

I am a curly-haired girl.
Everyone calls my hair scraggly.
Everyone insists that I should straighten it,
But I don’t want to.

My hair is curly. But my mother and relatives aren’t convinced.
“Are you going out with your hair all messy like that?” my mother would always tell me on my way out.
“Won’t you do something about your hair?” she’d tell me on our way to family gatherings.
“Don’t come with me if you won’t straighten your hair.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

When I was in the 7th grade,
My gym class teacher told me in the playground in front of all of my classmates
“Look at how big your boobs are? Are you not wearing a bra?”
She made fun of me and they laughed.
Even since then I genuinely hate my boobs.
body image, bullying

My paternal grandmother always had a brush,
And loads of hair products ready with her to tame my “unruly”, unkempt hair.
She would sit me down on my knees,
pull at my hair painfully until it got detangled,
then she would apply a lot of hair cream,
pull my hair back into a bun or braid it,
Until the curls were no longer visible.

I started getting comments about my curly hair when I came to Egypt.
I get comments like, “Brush your hair.”
“Mop-head.”
“Why is your hair so messy?”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards