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’ve been subjected to bad things ever since I was a child.
It started with the bullying I’d get at school,
Because of my thin body and dark skin.

I never ran or even moved from my place.
I remember really well,
When I’d run up the stairs,
Or run in Agamy market.

I was walking down Faisal Street with Nada.
We were on our way back from a funeral.
I could feel that Nada was waiting for someone to say something,
So she’d hit them.
I was scared.
Oh, God!

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

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?

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’m tired of my parents.
I don’t know why some people feel bad for orphans.
Maybe their lives are much better without parents.
I don’t want my parents.
They don’t do anything for me.
I don’t spend time with them.

We might see things differently,
But the guy on the outside sees my sister, my mother, and my fiance as mere “females”.
A body, a hole to fill, a corpse, a mattress,
A ride, a bang, a screw, a fuck,
A piece of meat everyone wants to tear into with their teeth

The day, since the very beginning, was filled with leery looks, catcalling, men rubbing against me, pestering me, and hands trying to grope me.
Whenever I lean forward to pick something up, everyone starts staring at my breasts.
The first taxi I stopped:
- "Garden City?"
-"Who could possibly say no to a beauty like you?"
-"Let me out here!"