As a foreign woman living in Egypt, I’ve gotten used to unwanted attention over the past seven months. Walking down the street anywhere in Egypt, the chorus of “beautiful”, “very sexy” and “Oh my God!” (always in English for some reason) follows me.
Last week, the summer weather finally arrived on the coast. I was walking back to my school after buying a pair of sunglasses. I entered the building where I take Arabic classes, passing several friends at the door. I was halfway up the stairs when a man passed me. “You take Arabic classes?” He asked. Living here as long as I have, I know I shouldn’t talk to strange men, but for some reason I thought he must be a teacher at the school I didn’t recognize. I didn’t want to be rude, so I said I was, as I continued up the stairs.
“Here, take this.” I turned around, and he extended his closed hand to me. For some reason I thought it was candy, because the teachers at the school sometimes bring sweets for the students. I had barely moved my hand towards his, when he grabbed my breast, gave it a quick squeeze and started running. I stood there for a moment, completely in shock, my hand still extended slightly. I began to scream, thinking pointlessly that somebody would hear and catch him.
The girls working at the school came running, and try to comfort me. “You shouldn’t have to live with that.” One says to me. “It happens all the time.” I respond, because it’s true. Every single day living in Egypt I am harassed in some way, but it had been months since any of them touched me. Instinctively, I looked down at what I was wearing: a long, loose fitting skirt that covered my ankles, and a 3/4 length shirt several sizes too big. Below my chin was a small triangle of skin left exposed, something that nobody in their right mind could be upset about, but I thought to myself, “I knew I should have worn a scarf today.”
I try to remember that I don’t deserve to be treated like this, no matter where I’m from, no matter what I’m wearing, but I’ve been living here so long I hardly believe it anymore. I am dirt, lower than dirt, a foreign woman, obviously some sort of slut. Months of being told how sexy I am, being asked degrading questions, brushing off marriage proposals by complete strangers weighs on me. These men have reduced me to someone like them, someone that thinks I deserve to be assaulted because of two inches of uncovered skin below my collarbone.
– Laura
Location: Alexandria, Egypt
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