I took the metro one day during Ramadan,
And got on the women’s passenger car,
Because I didn’t want to be harassed,
Or even looked at.

I just couldn’t wait to grow up to be a man.
Whenever I’d see women waiting in line in front of the kiosk,
I’d go press myself up against their bodies.
The most any of them would do was just walk away.

One day, while I was walking down the street with my daughter in her stroller,
A man groped me from behind.
I couldn’t do anything because I had my daughter with me,
But I saw him.
I knew what he looked like.
I knew where he usually hung out.

Before it happened,
I raised my voice and fought with you,
So you wouldn’t get into the elevator with me.
I went in alone,
And you pushed the door and came in,
And reached out and touched me.

I was around 7 or 8 years at the most.
All I knew then was that there are parts in our body that "strangers" should not see or touch.
What I came to know later is that most sexual assaulters are people who are very close to you.

Ahmed: “What do you think of that hottie over there?”
Amr: “Which one? The veiled one?
I love veiled women.”
Ahmed: “Really?
Why?”
Amr: “You know when you get a wrapped present,
And you take your time unwrapping it?”
Ahmed: “I’m talking about the girl walking with her, man.
Of course I wasn’t talking about that woman over there.
She looks like the potential brides my mother makes me meet.”
Amr: “Your mother makes you meet potential brides?”
Ahmed: “Yeah, man.
All the time.
She thinks they’re all like her,
Or will be like her in exactly two years.
I’ve stopped meeting them,
So, now she sends me their pictures on Facebook.”

Often, when I’m out, I get comments like, “What huge breasts!”
But one time, a man passing by me exclaimed, “Damn! Look at that pussy!”
I haven’t been able to wear pants since.

I use a bike to get around because I like sports and because it saves time.
People can’t tell I’m a girl when they see me from behind,
Because I wear a backpack and loose clothing.
That way no one pays me any attention..
But the verbal harassment starts as soon as they see my face.
gender violence, social stigma, harassment, the street

To my big nipples,
Why do you lose all feeling in bed?
Don’t you know you’re supposed to be an erogenous zone?
I feel nothing from you.
It’s as if you’re not connected to my breasts.
Not connected to my heart.
You disconnected yourself from my heart so I wouldn’t feel pain.
But I’m lacking confidence now.
beauty stadards, body image, harassment

I was once riding the train on my way to university in Minya.
I was wearing boots that were mid-leg. They looked a lot like those combat boots which recruited soldiers wear.
I was alone on the train, no one was sitting beside me.