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.

I’ll tell you what happened but don’t tell anyone else.
Last week, when I was going home,
There was a guy who wanted to get into the elevator with me.
He looked strange.
I refused to get into the elevator with him.

I was in third grade the first time I was sexually harassed.
 I don’t even really remember what happened, but I remember feeling that something wrong had happened.

My friend was taking a walk at a sports club.
A guy she’d known for a long time came over and said,
“Come over here.
I want to tell you something.”

I was harassed two years ago.
I was walking down the street,
And I felt someone following me,
So I went down another street,
But he kept following me.

They don’t want us to speak about what we see and hear.
They say that’s it’s improper and inappropriate.
But I’m forced to listen to it.
Why should I embellish an ugly reality?

One of the worst things to discover is that you're able to read the eyes of men as they look at your body.
Like when you start noticing as one guy looks at your breasts, and another at your lips, and a doorman looks at your waist, and so on.
Then you start interpreting the meaning behind these looks

I was once riding the train on my way to university in Minya.
I was wearing boots that were mid-leg. They looked a lot like those combat boots which recruited soldiers wear.
I was alone on the train, no one was sitting beside me.

The French teacher, Miss Lubnah, was very sweet and petite.
She spoke in broken Arabic,
But her French was perfect.
She was a great French teacher.

Mama was paranoid about harassment.
She thought it was everywhere.
She wanted to protect me.