I’m tall,
And a little chubby.
So what?
It’s not a crime.
But in our perfect, flawless society,
It’s a great opportunity,
For laughter,
And ha-has.
Sure, go ahead.

My parents are Nubian.
I was born olive-skinned,
Like most Egyptians.
My brother, however,
Who’s a year and a half older than me,
Was darker-skinned,
Like most Nubians.
That’s not the only problem:
My brother has a disability:
A chronic ulcer on the sole of his foot.

I’m a boy.
I’m not fat, but I have man boobs.
I come from the countryside, and the first thing people notice are my boobs.
I get comments by everyone on the streets, in classes, and at school.
body image, bullying, masculinity

I am olive-skinned.
There’s nothing special about my features; I look like any other Egyptian.
I have oily skin.
I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,
And I didnt know how to deal with it.

I was bullied at school a lot as a kid.
“Wash your face! You look dirty.”
“You look like so and so, but she looks cleaner than you!”
These are the kinds of things I would hear as a kid from my colleagues and sometimes even my own family.

I was never loved when I was a kid,
Because of my skin tone.
It was light brown,
But people liked to judge by appearances.
They’d always look at me at school,
As if I were different,
Until I started believing it.

I’m a 22 year old girl,
And many of my problems revolve around the way I look.
I’m overweight,
And I’m considered to be the fattest girl in my family.
Ever since I was little,
I’ve been asked questions like,
“Why aren’t you thin?”
“Where do you get your fatness from?’
“Do you eat your siblings’ food?”
They make fun of me,
And repeatedly bully me.
Many others go through the same thing.

I have two toes stuck together in both feet.
Kids my age would come up and ask me about them when I was young.
“Get surgery. Pull those toes apart,” people would tell my parents.
I hated wearing sandals for a long time.
I used to wear sneakers or anything that didn’t show my toes.
body image, bullying

I have always been more or less fat ever since I was a toddler.
And as if that wasn’t enough to make my life miserable,
I have a very thin fraternal twin sister.

My hair grew out very dry and curly.
Mama didn’t know how to deal with it.
She tried oils and creams.
My hair was in braids all during my childhood.
I never let my hair down.
I never felt the wind in my hair.
My maternal aunts made fun of me
body image, hair, beauty standards, bullying, hijab

“Her picture will be so dark, you won’t even be able to see her.”

I tried to say something,

But my tongue was tied.

I tried to ignore the slight,

Pretend I didn’t hear it,

Just focus on the camera.

But I wasn’t able to, unfortunately.

The result was as horrible as could be.