I was walking down the street one time when a cargo motorcycle full of middle school boys drove past me.
One of them slapped me on my behind.
I screamed in surprise. They mimicked me and laughed.
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.
My name is Khadra.
I’m 33 and I’m a middle school dropout,
But I don’t know how to read or write.
My parents passed away, and I have three kids:
Basma, Dina, and Amr.
My husband passed away too.
I was leaving school.
This school was in what people say is one of the most high-end areas in Cairo.
I was wearing gabardine pants and a baggy polo t-shirt.
It was the school uniform.
He was walking towards me.
gender violence, harassment, the street
You mean to tell me if a woman has acid thrown on her in the street and her face is disfigured, then so long as her organs are still functioning, the charge will still be ‘physical assault of a woman?’”
One time, I was followed by a tok tok driver who shouted all sorts of obscenities at me.
“You’re disgusting”, was all I managed to muster.
My first experience with harassment was, unfortunately, from the person closest to me.
That person also happened to be my cousin who was a few years older than me.
She would spend the summers at our place, and my parents would go to work.
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment
Ali: “Fuck that, how could my wife wear a swimsuit like this one?
And stand in front of men, while they look at her thighs?
Does it not bother you, Sherif, the idea of your wife wearing a swimsuit?”