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.

My mother had always wanted a daughter with European features.
Luckily, I was born with European features.
People couldn’t even tell that I was Egyptian.
But, unfortunately, I had curly hair.
I got all sorts of comments from my family and people I wasn’t even related to.
“Poor thing. She’s beautiful but she has bad hair.”
Can you imagine a 6-year-old getting her hair done at the hairdresser’s almost every week?
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

I’ve been bullied for my body ever since I was young.
Unlike everyone else,
I was really thin and I still am.
I never really cared about the "french body type,”
Which people told me I had,
As much as I cared about the hurtful comments people made about my body.
body image, bullying

I’ve had a binge eating disorder ever since I was a child.
I only became aware of it,
And tried to do something about it,
When I was 21 years old.
I started gaining weight when I was 10.
I would visit a nutritionist every week.

Baba used to beat me up for being fat.
When I was around 13 or 14,
Mama was convinced that I won’t get married because I’m overweight.
body image, bullying, beauty standards, physical violence

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 have dark skin,
And I adore it.
I’m an Egyptian girl of Nubian descent,
But I don’t live in Nubia.
I never get a break from people’s comments:
On the streets, at school, or any place I go.
body image, bullying, racism, beauty standards

All my life I’ve been getting comments on my body;
“You’re fat!”
“You look like a door!”
All the time.
That I have to lose weight to be loved or to, at least, be accepted.
body image, bullying

My story with weight is a little long.
It started when I was a child in elementary school.
I was fatter than my friends who were the same age as me.
They called me “fatty.”
It was a mark of shame that will always stay with me.
I didn’t know how to get rid of it.

I hugged my friend out in public because he needed it, and because I needed it too.
When I heard the comments, I pulled away from him by saying, “What’s this? You’re crying?”
But I had wanted to keep on hugging him until he had let it all out.
I wanted to hug him without fearing or worrying what passersby would say.