A girl was walking to a supermarket near her house after iftaar  when a kid—no older than 18—said the most disgusting things to her as he fondled himself.

They told me it was a game.
A game that everyone played.
They wanted to see who was the best one at it.
I was very naive.
Day after day, we’d go into the room and they’d choose one of us to “play” with.
Day after day, we explored each other through this game.
Day after day, I’d enter the apartment with excitement to start playing the game.

I hate putting myself in positions of vulnerability,
Even though, I know this kind of space is meant to be safe.
Comforting.
Empowering.
I have felt that way in the past and let go.
I have trusted those who I am expected to trust.
First, my uncle: the funny one.
Later, a monk.
gender violence, sexual violence, child molestation

I was harassed more than once.
I think I was in fourth grade the first time it happened.
I was on my way home with my little sister.
I sat beside someone.
He had a strange vibe.
I didn’t want to sit next to him,

I was in highschool at the time.
It was inappropriate to tell mama about this sort of thing,
She never said so,
But I had a feeling that what happened could not be talked about.

The only indication that something wrong was going on was how quickly everything stopped when someone walked in, and how he told me to not tell anyone.
I used to always listen to him because he was older than me.
The more I thought about it, the less normal it felt.
I told mama when I was in the fourth grade: “He touches my breasts and my behind, and sometimes, he takes off his pants. Is that normal?"

I was in primary school when I got circumcised.
I already knew about it,
Because my cousins had it done to them before me.
I thought it was a good thing,
And that it would mean I’m all grown up.
I knew where I was headed.
I knew what was going to happen to me.
But I didn’t know how it was going to be done.

Gender violence; sexual violence; physical violence; FGM; sex

I was wearing a headscarf and a long, roomy skirt.
I was walking down the sidewalk,
By the walls of the university.
Soldier-like.
At 2 in the afternoon.
I heard someone walking behind me, moaning.

One of the worst things to discover is that you're able to read the eyes of men as they look at your body.
Like when you start noticing as one guy looks at your breasts, and another at your lips, and a doorman looks at your waist, and so on.
Then you start interpreting the meaning behind these looks

I was sexually harassed inside my house,
By someone very close to me.