My mother only likes straight hair.
She’d always straighten our hair, using various gels and keratin.
She wanted to straighten it in any way possible.
hair, bullying, beauty standards, body image

I am not obligated to have my headphones on whenever I’m walking so I wouldn’t have to hear what they say.
Because even if I can’t hear them, I can still see the way they look at me.
social stigma, social pressure, masculinity, bullying, the street

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.

Synonyms for Curly Hair:
“Poofy hair”
“Like a poodle”
“Like a broom”
“Like a toilet brush”
“Like a ceiling duster”
“Mixed in a blender”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

I don’t think anyone has ever made fun of my body or how I looked,
Except for my family.
Baba and mama didn’t make fun of me,
But they let my uncles to do so.
I was the laughing stock of family gatherings,
Simply because I was a little overweight and had curly hair.
body image, bullying

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?

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’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

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

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.