My curly hair was like a disease.
Everyone pitied me for it.
Everyone offered to help fix it.
My hair has seen it all: chemicals, food masks, oils, creams, freaking spiritual healings...
hair, beauty standards, bullying

My hair is curly. But my mother and relatives aren’t convinced.
“Are you going out with your hair all messy like that?” my mother would always tell me on my way out.
“Won’t you do something about your hair?” she’d tell me on our way to family gatherings.
“Don’t come with me if you won’t straighten your hair.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

Ever since I was little,
I’ve been underweight,
And I’m not tall.
I’ve always gotten criticism from everyone around me:
“Why do you look like that? Who eats your food?”
“You need to fatten up a bit, my dear. Otherwise, you’ll be an old maid,
And nobody will look at you.”

I’m fat,
And I’ve always been bullied because of it.
People have told me things like:
“Are you sure you’re a man with those breasts of yours?”
“You’re as big as a bull now.
We’ll sacrifice you on Eid.”

I’m very handsome,
Thank God.
But I was very thin as a teenager,
Which made my facial features look big,
Especially my lips.

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.

It was a family outing.
Almost everyone said,
“What’s wrong with your hair?”
“Straighten the frizz out of it.”
“Are you trying to be an eyesore on purpose?”
They were insensitive to my feelings as they made fun of me.
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards, social pressure

Every single day,
People passing me by in the street,
Shout insults at me:
“Blackie!”
“Shikabala!”
“Why’s it dark all of the sudden?”
“Disgusting!”

My forehead is kind of big.
I’ve always been bullied because of how I looked,
My forehead,
And my hair—
Which isn’t bad by the way,
But it isn't as beautiful as everyone else’s in the family.
I’ve always heard things like,
“Your hair could work as an antenna for the T.V.”

The first time he hit me was the day I found out I was pregnant.
He picked a fight with me when his friend and his wife were having dinner with us,
And I fried the mombar (a kind of sausage dish),
Before the chicken breasts.
He pulled me by my hair,
And dragged me to the stove,
And threatened to set me on fire to get rid of me.