Everything about the streets is upsetting.
I get scared and worried whenever I walk down the street.
Scared of what will happen.
Of what I see, and the way they would touch you.
I wish that one day I could walk feeling safe.
gender violence, harassment, social pressure, the street

Ever since childhood, people have treated me like I’m strange, provocative.
Ever since I was a child, I never felt like all the other boys.
gender identity, gender violence, harassment, body image, sexuality, social pressure, social stigma

Don’t you dare think of pressing charges like those women in the movie did.
A respectable girl would never go into a police station full of men and tell them that a man, for example, grabbed her here or touched her leg.
This country is full of incidents like these, and women never speak up. Don’t you go playing the hero

I was on my way to college, and I was  in a hurry. I was looking around for an available microbus to get on, when a little boy sexually harassed me.
gender violence, harassment

My friend was walking down the street,
And she was very scared.
Three young men surrounded her,
And tried to molest her.
gender violence; harassment; the street

I wish I could be like the woman in the alley.
The one who takes off her slippers and threatens to beat 14 guys in the metro,
Until they run away.

Ahmed: “What do you think of that hottie over there?”
Amr: “Which one? The veiled one?
I love veiled women.”
Ahmed: “Really?
Why?”
Amr: “You know when you get a wrapped present,
And you take your time unwrapping it?”
Ahmed: “I’m talking about the girl walking with her, man.
Of course I wasn’t talking about that woman over there.
She looks like the potential brides my mother makes me meet.”
Amr: “Your mother makes you meet potential brides?”
Ahmed: “Yeah, man.
All the time.
She thinks they’re all like her,
Or will be like her in exactly two years.
I’ve stopped meeting them,
So, now she sends me their pictures on Facebook.”

I was walking down the street, it was about an hour after Eid prayers, when a guy riding past on a motorcycle tried to touch me.

The French teacher, Miss Lubnah, was very sweet and petite.
She spoke in broken Arabic,
But her French was perfect.
She was a great French teacher.

He was interviewing me. Toward the middle of the interview, he asked me, "Why do you want to work?"
"Because I like working."
"You mean you like the attention!"
Him: “Okay, you'll get the job. This is the school’s phone number, and this is my private office number."