The pregnant woman, awaiting her first baby. Taking pictures of herself every month because she's thrilled with her changing body and growing belly.
She goes out to see her doctor, to see what her baby looks like now. She gets catcalled by another filthy animal. He comments on her pregnant body:
"Who did this to you?"
Or "You shameless..."
This is just a small sample of the number of incidents I’ve been through,
And was never able to tell anyone,
Because I would’ve been blamed.
gender violence; sexual violence; harassment; child molestation; the street
Whenever I go out during Ramadan
young men who pass by me mutter,
“O Allah, I seek refuge in you from all evil and evil-doers.”
gender violence, harassment, the street
I was fed up with his silly blabber.
He didn’t stop talking the whole ride.
I remembered the stories I heard about taxi drivers.
I had one hand on the handle as he chattered away.
After prayers, I thought it would be nice, since the corniche was nearby, to go sit by the Nile with a few friends and maybe take a walk or something.
Nothing wrong with that, right?
We found officers standing there, which was a little out of the ordinary, but at least they’d be able to protect us from harassers I thought.
“Why did you go there?”
Whenever someone asks me that,
I feel as if they only see me as a piece of meat that should be covered.
I get the urge to just cut parts off my body whenever I walk down the street.
I was six or seven years old.
Mama wanted me to learn a musical instrument, so I chose the piano.
She looked for a place that could teach me and found an instructor at the club.
They arranged for me and my brother to take lessons with him.