When I was in college, a joke started about someone in our group and spread throughout the entire university:
“Is that your body, Ahmed, or your mother’s?

I’ve always wondered,
Why men’s underwear is hung on the front washing line.
Some people say, “White clothes are hung on the front line and colored clothes are hung on the last line.”

My looks didn’t concern me when I was entering into journalism.
I told myself that as soon as I speak and show my personality,
I’ll draw everyone’s attention.

I came nowhere near you.
So, did he stand you up?
Yes, you. There’s no one else here, is there?
I’m here if he doesn’t show up, you know.

Her parents kept her locked up at home.
Her computer was always being watched.
Her job was located near her house.
She wasn’t allowed out on her own.
She was 33 years old.

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.

When I was in middle school, I went to a school in Al Mandara, and there was a girls' school across the street from ours. We used to finish school at the same time.

He was interviewing me. Toward the middle of the interview, he asked me, "Why do you want to work?"
"Because I like working."
"You mean you like the attention!"
Him: “Okay, you'll get the job. This is the school’s phone number, and this is my private office number."