This is not a story about street harassment.
This is a story about domestic violence.
When I was still an eight year old child,
My paternal grandfather used to touch me in a way that made me uncomfortable.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation, parents

I’m your mother and I have your best interests at heart.
I’m telling you it’s not going to work out.
Building your lives together is not something that’ll work.

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.

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.

My parents have always been aware and informed, thank God.
One time, when I was younger, mama asked me to hand her some pads.
She wanted me to ask her what they were for.
“This is something all girls will need to use someday.
It’s a sign that they’re getting older and lovelier,” she replied simply.
womanhood, period, parents

At the beginning, my husband treated me like a friend and wife.
He was like he was a friend, a brother, a husband, and a son to me. He was good to me.
Then, he changed.
He treated me like I was a man and only occasionally like a woman.
I thought he was cheating on me.
domestic violence, parents, work, marriage, divorce, romantic relationships

That day,
I felt happy,
Because my mother had taken me for a walk around the house,
After my science exam.
I quickly went to the bathroom,
And found blood in my underwear.
I didn’t care.
I put a few tissues,
And decided not to tell anyone.

I covered my head in the tenth grade.
My brother—who had gone down the road of "piety and religious extremism"—forced me to wear the headscarf.
Since my older sister wasn't veiled—there's a 10 year difference between us and she's also older than him—

I first found out about periods when I was around 11 years old.
We were in Saudi Arabia when I started noticing mama’s Always pads.
I didn’t understand what they were,
Or what they were used for.
All I knew was that they were mama’s,
And that she used them,
But I didn’t understand why.
Then she told me,
But I didn’t understand.

I’m a country girl, unfortunately.
I am 27 years old.
I’ve been getting beaten up and humiliated since I was 3 years old.
I remember every blow, and the pain.
I still have scars on my body,
That serve as a constant reminder.