I don’t know why I’m going to tell this story,
But I’ve bottled up so much inside me.

There was a period when my parents were separated,
And my grandfather interfered a lot in our lives.
He was a very cruel man,
And so was my mother.

I was around 7 or 8 years at the most.
All I knew then was that there are parts in our body that "strangers" should not see or touch.
What I came to know later is that most sexual assaulters are people who are very close to you.

How can I possibly talk about just one harassment incident,
When I get harassed more than three or four times a day?
My life is full of harassment incidents.
gender violence, harassment, the street

How is it that he molests me, and takes away a part of me,
but I’m expected to censor myself when I tell the story?
I regret ever listening to what you had to say,
to what you call traditional or proper or haram.

I stopped going to school at that time.
I didn’t know what harassment was, but there was a rape incident being talked about on TV.
I thought he had raped me.
When I finally found the courage to start going out again, I would hide behind other women in the street.

I was leaning against a pole behind the driver’s seat, and through the crowd, I saw a man smiling at me.
I closed my eyes for a bit—I was dying to sleep—and when I opened them again, the man was standing in front of me, holding onto the pole I was leaning against.

I got breast reduction surgery,
Because I’m sick and tired of the things people say to me;
Men and women.
Walking down the street with my husband,
I hear things like,
“What huge breasts!”
And “He’s so lucky!”
I ask him not to fight with them.
I tell him it’s not worth it.
body image, sexual violence, gender violence, harassment, the street

He was my father’s age,
I met him at Ramses station on my way back to Minya.
He was a professor at Ain Shams University,
And he treated me like a daughter.
He used to call me at my parents’ house to check if I needed anything.

One time when I was in 10th grade, I got home and my father came home half an hour later.
He went to his room as soon as he got home.
I was going to the kitchen to drink water when I saw him in his room with his hand inside his blue pants.
He was masturbating.
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, parents

“Don’t react to anything you hear.
Just keep walking.”
“Don’t talk back, no matter what.
Walk away.”
“No one knows what he could do to you.”
That’s what we’re told.
We’re told to obey.
If someone insults me,
I should just walk away.
That way he’ll keep doing what he does.