I was on a minibus.
From the window, I saw a girl running along the corniche.
She had her headphones on.
It was 5 in the evening,
And three men were running after her.
I saw them reach out to grope her.

One day they brought bang snaps to school,
And they threw it at Mrs. Cherine while she was writing on the board.
She was startled and when she turned around
Two or three boys got up, closed the door, turned off the lights,

Every time I walk down the street
I’m scared some pig will beat me up,
Or throw acid at me,
Or harass me,
Because the look on their faces is terrifying

I was sexually harassed inside my house,
By someone very close to me.

I was molested by my father when I was a child.

A friend of mine used to catcall girls when we were in middle school.
I’m not embarrassed to say that I have friends who catcall,
Because if I was only friends with people who didn’t catcall,
I wouldn’t have any friends!
So this friend decided to catcall someone.

It happened during Eid.
I was out with my sister and cousin. They’re both younger than I am—high school students.
It was really crowded, especially in Ras el-Bar.
I made them walk ahead me; I was afraid someone would try to assault them from behind.
All of a sudden, I felt someone touch me from behind. I was taken aback and nearly burst into tears.

Walk like a soldier.
Don’t you know how soldiers walk?
Eyes straight.
Back straight.
No swaying.

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 don’t know where it’s going to happen next time.
I can’t predict who’s going to harass me next time.
Everyone’s a potential harasser.
They’re the reason I can’t tell anyone.