The first time he hit me was the day I found out I was pregnant.
He picked a fight with me when his friend and his wife were having dinner with us,
And I fried the mombar (a kind of sausage dish),
Before the chicken breasts.
He pulled me by my hair,
And dragged me to the stove,
And threatened to set me on fire to get rid of me.

It was me and two or three other girls on the bus.
Two of them were veiled and one was wearing the niqab.
We were all standing in a corner.
We were surrounded by men.
There was a man sitting with his legs wide open and laughing loudly.
It was as if he was the owner of the bus and could act any way he liked.

I was on my way to school like any other day,
When I found everyone making fun of me because I was wearing pants and a t-shirt that were bigger in size than their clothes.
I weighed more than them.
I don’t know how this whole thing started.
bullying, body image, beauty standards, social pressure

My parents separated when I was young.
My mom, my sister, and I were living happily after the separation,
Until my mom got remarried.
I couldn’t bear living with her when she got married,
So my father sent me to live with my grandma.
I wish I had never gone.
My grandmother and aunt both gave me a hard time.
I would cry myself to sleep every day,
Because of how they treated me.

I called Tante Hoda and quickly realized that the whole school and Kuwait thing wasn’t real.
I could’ve told my auntie that I knew what she was trying to do,
But I wanted to put an end to all future attempts at finding me a husband.
So I went to the club and met auntie, Tante Hoda and the suitor—tall, with glasses, and eyes on the floor.

All girls are born with something and it’s taken by their husbands.
You were destined to get married since the day you were born.
This thing you have, he is going to take it today.

I’m 32 years old.
I’m divorced, and I don’t have any children.
When I turned 32, everyone pressured me into getting married.
I honestly wasn’t really looking forward to it.

I know how to tweeze and thread.
I'm an employee by day, but I do these things at night.
The troll I'm married to sits at home all day and doesn't make a penny to spend on the kids, and he gives me a beating every other day or so.

Good Lord, I haven't been asked that question in a while.
 Maybe because people are entirely convinced that any woman who covers her head does so for one of the following reasons:
- Amr Khaled, the super famous Islamic preacher
- Her parents
- People on the street
- To get married

How are you, Sara?
How are you doing, dear?
Sara is one of a kind.
She’s extremely well-mannered.
No one is perfect but Allah, of course.
But you’re honest, kind, and well-mannered.
But you’re not perfect.