I was never good at picking out clothes,
Or following trends.
I was never exactly a fashionista.
I liked wearing whatever made me feel comfortable,
And whatever colors I liked.
I liked wearing long clothes as well.
I don’t like wearing makeup.
My parents always told me that I looked like a “beggar.”

I used to braid my kinky hair in school.
It was a bit poofy at the top.
The girls at school would pull my hair and undo my braid.
My hair would get frizzy and I wouldn’t know how to tie it.
The teachers would yell at me to tie my hair.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying

I’ve had black circles under my eyes ever since I was young.
It’s genetic.
I also have bulging eyes.
I hated school,
Because of the way my friends looked at me,
Like they were making fun of me.
They saw me as less than them,
Because I don’t look normal.

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’m a guy.
I was ten years old at the time.
We were living in a family house,
Which meant I was oftentimes left alone with other family members.
They’d tell me they were just going to play with my toys,
But we never actually played with them.

I hear comments like:
“Okay, leave it how it is in the back, but straighten your bangs because your hair looks frizzy in the front.”
No one understands that part of the reason why I’m okay with how I look comes from leaving my hair as it is.
body image, bullying, hair, beauty standards

I've always struggled with how my parents treated me,
And the way they looked at me because of my body shape.
I’ve been struggling with obesity,
Ever since I hit puberty.

That day, I sat there and pretended to play by myself because I was alone,
My neighbors weren’t talking to me that day.
At the time my neighbors were my group of friends: Manara, Nesma, Shaimaa.
They were sisters.

Girls, I know that at this age, you like to flaunt your beauty.
“Look at my long hair!
Look at whatever!”
Here, you must forget about all those things.
The uniform you must wear is a galabiyya.
The kind your mothers wear.

When I was young, my mother used to cut my hair even though I would beg her not to.
I had always wanted to have long hair.
“Your hair looks like a loofa,” she would always say.
I couldn’t tie it back when it was short.
It looked terrible under the hijab with the school uniform.
I was bullied at school because of my hair.
People would touch it and make fun of me.
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying