I spot one of the harassers.
I pull myself up, leaning against a railing for support, and head towards him.
I look at him, and in his eyes I see...
Nothing.
Nothing!

I found out what harassment was when I was in sixth grade.
I’ll never forget that day.
I’ll never forget what he looked like.
It was in the morning and the streets were relatively empty.
He was moving behind me on a bike.
I suddenly felt his hand on my body.
gender violence, harassment, the street

A white-haired old man
Dressed in a suit,
And driving a fancy car,
Stopped me to ask where the nearest supermarket was.
I very naively started giving him directions.
Then this man, who’s as old as my father,
Started doing the dirtiest thing ever.
I can’t give any more details,
But I’m sure you understand what I mean.
I screamed,
And burst into tears.
He drove off, of course.

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.

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

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.

I was in a microbus.
I got on in Al-Mandara,
And was getting off in Miami.
A woman with a child sat next to me.
I made room for her,
And looked the other way.
She moved closer to me.
Where I was supposed to go?
gender violence, harassment

I usually wear an abaya and a veil when I go to work.
I went in, changed, and went out.
“Come, dear. Prepare breakfast for us,” he told me.
I went out to get breakfast.
Later on he said,
“Why are you covering your hair? Take off the veil, dear.”
“I’m from the countryside. I can’t take off the veil,” I replied.
gender violence, sexual violence, work, harassment, social pressure

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!

I could never forget,
How in the midst of the screams, beatings, killing,
The fires and tear gas in Tahrir,
I felt your hand violating me.