Fear of Water

2016

A friend of mine tried to convince me to go for a swim.
He told me the water was great.
I kept telling them that I couldn’t swim.
“We’ll teach you,” they said.
“The water is great.”
I eventually gave in.
gender violence, harassment, child molestation

FULL STORY

A Small Sample

2017

This is just a small sample of the number of incidents I’ve been through,
And was never able to tell anyone,
Because I would’ve been blamed.
gender violence; sexual violence; harassment; child molestation; the street

FULL STORY

The 7-year-old Harasser

2015

I saw a 7-year-old boy physically harassing a girl.
I was confused.
How did the boy know which parts of the woman’s body
to touch?
How? He’s only seven!

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He said he didn't mean to

2017

I used to hear a lot about harassment but I never imagined it would happen to me.
I was sitting in a microbus when he stuck his arm out from behind me and touched my shoulder.
A little later, he did it again, and when I shouted at him, he said very coolly: "I didn't mean to."

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Identity Crisis

2012

“Be careful while crossing the street.”
“Don’t take flowers from strangers.”
“Don’t walk down dark streets.”
The things I especially could never forget were,
“Don’t walk like a girl! Walk like a man!”

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Told No One

2015

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.

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Come Over

2017

“Come to Alexandria and I’ll do anything you want.
Come over to my place, or to the lovers’ den,” he said.
gender violence, harassment

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Not a Woman

2010

I was going home after practice dressed in sports clothes.
Two men were checking me out in the street:
“Is that a girl or a boy?”
“It’s a girl, man.”

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Leave Her Alone

2013

She stood, pretty as a picture,
In the midst of a place that despised beauty.
The eyes of the passengers, once cold and dead, were now filled with anger and jealousy.
Filled with unspoken words I’ve heard before.

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Bleep

2012

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.

FULL STORY
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