I stopped wearing the hijab a few months ago.
Ramadan is approaching and I’m terrified.
I’m afraid of what my family might say.
I’m afraid of what people in the street will say.
social stigma, hijab, hair, harassment, the street, social pressure
As I walked down the street, a man my father's age tells me "Is your cunt as beautiful as you are?"
As I walked down the street, a guy from behind touches me and says, "I want to rub my penis against you"
gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, the street
Like all girls, I’ve experienced sexual harassment many times.
By strangers in the streets, by a relative that took advantage of my innocence,
and by a brother who would spy on me in my room when I was unaware.
body image, gender violence, sexual violence, harassment, sexuality
My father was the first person to touch me.
I used to tell myself that I was imagining it.
When he’d touch me with his leg from behind,
I’d tell myself he was just being playful.
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 walking down the street, it was about an hour after Eid prayers, when a guy riding past on a motorcycle tried to touch me.
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.
When I was younger,
I knew my cousin liked me,
But time had passed.
When I visited them that day,
We had been out all day,
And we were very tired when we got home.
My female cousin and I went to the bedroom,
And slept deeply.
My male cousin came into the room,
Put his hand under my clothes,
And kissed me.