Mariam, my daughter, came to me a couple of days ago,
Telling me that her friend, Salma, who had just turned 10,
Was being forced by her parents to wear the veil because she’s all grown up now.

I’m passive, weak, uneducated.
Veiled from head to toe.
One of his four wives.
Work in the kitchen all day.
And spread my legs wide at night.
That’s what you think, right?

I wasn’t brave enough to tell my family that I wanted to stop wearing the hijab.
They’re Salafists,
And I could predict their reaction.
Whenever I attended tutoring lessons,
I’d look at the other girls’ clothes,
Clothes I was forbidden from wearing at that age.
I didn’t like going out most of the time,
Because people always called me an old lady,
Because of how I dressed.
That made me hate the way I looked.

I was always very independent,
Ever since I was young.
I never did anything unless I believed in it.
I decided to start wearing the headscarf.
I did so out of conviction.
No one interfered in my decision.
social stigma, hijab, discrimination

My appearance is what’s stopping me from getting on stage.
I’ve even considered cosmetic surgery.
I’m learning script writing so that I could play my own self on stage.
I’ll write a play that talks about people like me.
I’ll find someone like me to play the leading role.

Every day, I feel guilty towards my daughter.
There was a time in my life when, unfortunately, I had looked up to certain people in my life and felt that I had to act like them.
One of those people was a cousin of mine.

Something annoying happens every Ramadan.
As a woman, I’m looked at as a glitch in the Egyptian societal system.
I’m seen as a problem, just because I don’t cover my hair.
social stigma, social pressure, hijab, hair, harassment, the street

I was 9 years old.
I remember coming back from school,
And finding some blood in my underwear.
I thought I’d gotten injured,
And didn’t give it much thought.
I became afraid the following days,
When there was still more blood.
I didn’t want to tell my mother,
So she wouldn’t yell at me.

“Because you’re a girl.”
Many of the incidents that happen at home end with the phrase, “You’re a girl.”
When I decided to take the hijab off, I spent a year and a half trying to get my father’s permission
“What will people say?”
“It’s taboo.”
“What will they say?”

Look at me. Do you see me? Do you really see me?
Of course, all you see is a girl that looks like she comes from a good family.
But don’t be fooled by this quiet demeanour.
I’m burning on the inside.
No one can feel the anger inside me.