When my father died,
My brother decided he’d be the man of the house.
That didn’t mean that he’d help us.
It meant my sisters and I would be his servants.

If, while baba was beating me, I cried, he’d hit me again for crying.
“If you cry, you’ll get hit. Men don’t cry”, he’d tell me.
Whenever he beat me, my main concern was to not cry.

I used to love someone.
We worked together.
I really admired his personality.
He asked for my hand in marriage,
But my parents rejected him,
Because he was from a different social class.
I had a feeling he was ambitious,
And that he’d amount to something.
When we were engaged,
He was always concerned with the apartment,
And getting it ready.

My father never treated me as if I were worthy of respect.
This has led to many hardships in my life.
I used to love him so much.
He married another woman when I was 13.
I felt lost then.
I was broken.

I’m a 23-year-old girl.
I graduated from college,
My siblings live abroad.
One of my brothers suddenly came back home.
That’s when I started getting beaten over every little thing.

I’m a girl in college.
I spent my early childhood in Saudi Arabia
Saudi girls had a habit of sticking their tongues out.
I was too young to know right from wrong.
One time in elementary school,
I did the same,
I stuck out my tongue at mama,
Over something I didn’t like.

When I was a 13-year-old girl,
My parents were a little strict with me.
But they’re my parents,
And I could never let go of them.
When I grew up,
I knew that we couldn’t function as a normal family.
I was subjected to violence by my mother and father.
My siblings too.

I was playing down in the street the first time I was hit.
One of the girls I was playing with hit me.
I went to her house,
And started throwing rocks at it,
But she didn’t come out.
I went up to her house,
And her mother answered the door.
I went inside and started hitting her.
“Aren’t you a bold little girl?”
Her mother exclaimed.

One incident I remember the most,
Is when my maternal uncle hit me because of my mother.
My mother is not an easy going woman.
My uncle’s wife was insulting my mother in her presence.
I tried to talk back,
But my mother told me not to.
I couldn’t stay quiet,
So I asked my uncle’s wife,
“Why are you insulting my mother?”
domestic violence, physical violence, parents, social pressure

When I was little, I often dreamt of a demon.
I’d bang on our front door as the demon came down the stairs.
I’d scream and my voice would catch in my throat.
My hands would grow heavier as I pounded on the door.
When I got married, I started to suspect that demon was my husband.
domestic violence, gender violence, physical violence, social stigma, work, addiction