I was born in Saudi Arabia.
When I was young,
I was bullied because of my dark skin.
I didn’t have any friends,
Because no one wanted to be friends with me.
I hated myself.
I wanted to die,
So I could go to heaven,
And be reborn as a girl with pale skin,
Blonde hair,
And green eyes.

It started around puberty.
My voice started to change.
It became very deep.
To the extent that if someone heard my voice,
Without seeing me,
They’d think I was an old man.
It’s happened to me a lot.

I hate my skin.
It’s full of flaws.
My face and back are full of painful pimples.
Dark areas, red areas, holes, and splotches.
I hate how people look at me,
Especially when I’m already feeling low.
Even mama, baba, and my younger siblings,
All look at me with a mixture of disgust and pity on their faces.

My mom: “Do another protein treatment to straighten your hair, it looked nice on you”
Me: “Protein treatments are harmful, they could lead to skin cancer.”
hair, body image, bullying, beauty standards

I’m very handsome,
Thank God.
But I was very thin as a teenager,
Which made my facial features look big,
Especially my lips.

I’ve always been fat,
And they don’t let me forget that at home.
They tell me I need to stop eating.
My father always embarrasses me during gatherings,
Especially when we’re visiting friends or relatives.
He’d give me a disapproving look if I take an extra serving of food.

I’ve always struggled with my body image.
I went to an all-girls school, and I was very athletic.
I was taller than the other girls, bulkier.
I always looked messy from playing sports during break time.
I always got called a tomboy and was given only “manly” roles at school plays.

I’m a boy and I’ve had gynecomastia (enlarged male breasts) ever since I was young.
I used to tell myself that it’s not a big deal,
And that it’s only a matter of years and it will go away.
Unfortunately, this ruined my teenage years.
body image, bullying, masculinity

My forehead is kind of big.
I’ve always been bullied because of how I looked,
My forehead,
And my hair—
Which isn’t bad by the way,
But it isn't as beautiful as everyone else’s in the family.
I’ve always heard things like,
“Your hair could work as an antenna for the T.V.”

That day, I sat there and pretended to play by myself because I was alone,
My neighbors weren’t talking to me that day.
At the time my neighbors were my group of friends: Manara, Nesma, Shaimaa.
They were sisters.