I don’t remember my circumcision clearly.
Ever since it happened,
I’ve been avoiding thinking about anything related to my body.
I always feel like there’s something missing.
That I’m not really a girl.
My family’s strange beliefs are the reason for this.

That is why I hate my body,
Every inch of it.

I’ve always been overweight.
I can’t remember ever being skinny.
I’m pretty,
And I have beautiful hair,
And I have a nice personality,
But people are always telling me to lose weight,
So I’ll look prettier.

“Frizzy-haired!”
“Need a brush?”
“How come you don’t brush your hair?”
“Who electrocuted you?”
“A doctor shouldn’t look like that.”
“You need to brush your hair, dear, or it’ll collect dirt.”
body image, hair, bullying, beauty standards

I was 12 when it came.
In Palestine, we say ajetny [it has come] when we get our periods.
It happened when I got home after school.
There was a lot of blood.
I got really scared.
I cried a lot.
I couldn’t understand why I was bleeding.
womanhood, period, body image

“You’re dark-skinned,
But you’re funny.”
“People who are dark-skinned,
Have the best sense of humor.”
That’s what I’m always told at any gathering.
This is a kind of social stereotyping.

I grew up hating my hair.
It was very painful when my mother,
Would try to brush it.
Whenever I tried to be okay with it,
People at school, family and family friends would make fun of me.

I was an active child when I was young.
I did gymnastics and never skipped a lesson.
However, I wasn't blessed when puberty hit me,
As I gained an enormous amount of weight.
body image, social stigma, social pressure, bullying

I’m 16 years old.
People have made fun of me ever since I was little.
My father was very short,
And I was born a twin.
To make sense of the way I looked,
They used to tell me,
That my twin brother was trying to absorb me,
When we were in our mother’s womb.
But what happened was that he absorbed my food instead.

I got breast reduction surgery,
Because I’m sick and tired of the things people say to me;
Men and women.
Walking down the street with my husband,
I hear things like,
“What huge breasts!”
And “He’s so lucky!”
I ask him not to fight with them.
I tell him it’s not worth it.
body image, sexual violence, gender violence, harassment, the street

I spent so many years wondering why God gave me a decent-looking face—or so people say—and hair that looks the way it does.
He could’ve given me decent hair too.
I figured God must’ve done this on purpose.
But why?
beauty standards, body image, hair