I was at one of my cousin’s wedding.
The wedding was in a garden on the nile.
I was 10 years old.
I was walking,
And behind me was a group of children who were no older than 8 years old.
I felt something in my behind,
But I didn’t know what was happening,
And I didn’t give it much thought.
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
We were walking down the street, holding hands.
A man passed us by and laughed in derision.
“What are you in love or something?”
social stigma, sexuality, harassment, the street
We were at a conference.
Later at the hotel,
As we were going back to our rooms,
One of my colleagues told me,
“I’m staying in room 13.”
gender violence, harassment, work
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.
She said I should have just quietly changed seats, and that there was no need for all the drama.
"Drama?" I asked. "You think I’m being dramatic? So, you think it’s okay for someone to just reach out and grope you?”
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.