I get bullied and insulted.
It happened that once the religion teacher performed on me the Islamic practice of healing in front of my classmates.
They had planned to do it because they saw that my being different was something abnormal.
I couldn’t do anything.
When I tried to speak up, they just said that it was a joke.
social stigma, depression, school, bullying

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 hate my skin.
It’s full of flaws.
My face and back are full of painful pimples.
Dark areas, red areas, holes, and splotches.
I hate how people look at me,
Especially when I’m already feeling low.
Even mama, baba, and my younger siblings,
All look at me with a mixture of disgust and pity on their faces.

For as long as I can remember, I’d been overweight.
As a result, I was always subjected to comments from people, especially family,
Comments about how fat I was,
Whether as a child, teenager, or young adult.
I was always told that I needed to lose weight,
That I was not nice to look at,
And that I would never find a husband because of my body.

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

Ever since I was young,
I was told that my hair wasn’t nice.
I’ve been straightening my hair since elementary school.
Everyone around me made fun of me.
They called me “brillo pad.”

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

I’ve never known what it’s like to feel beautiful.
Every day I am reminded that I am fat,
That my "messy” hair looks bad,
And that I have a weird face.
My own mother tells me daily that I should lose weight.

“Frizzy-haired!”
“Need a brush?”
“How come you don’t brush your hair?”
“Who electrocuted you?”
“A doctor shouldn’t look like that.”
“You need to brush your hair, dear, or it’ll collect dirt.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

Brushing my hair as a child was a real burden to me.
My mother would pull it really hard when she brushed it.
It was as if she was punishing me for having “bad” hair.
Combing it was a difficult process.
“Your hair is disgusting. I’m sick of it,” she used to tell me.
She used to push me away if I cried because it hurt, saying,
“Get up. I won’t brush it for you.”
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying