Thank you to all who came to LWS yesterday. You made a difference. “The thought that there is a woman, continents away from me, standing up for my rights brought me to tears. I love you so much. My father and my brother, who are my own family, do not stand up for my rights, yet you, a woman so far away, are standing up for women like me. I will be grateful for that for the rest of my life. This is what makes us women so special — we support one another, even when we have never experienced the same struggles. I love you so much, and I will pray for you often. I will keep looking forward to the day when I can experience the simple feeling of having the air touch my skin and the sunlight reach my body. In my country, girls are often left without hobbies because the activities available to them are limited to what they can do inside their rooms. We cannot freely ride bicycles, tan outdoors, or simply go for a run in the park. And then, when we become overweight and our bodies are no longer as strong or healthy as they could be, some men tell us that they will leave us and marry women from outside Saudi Arabia because those women have healthier lifestyles — the very same men who prevent us from having the freedom to develop those healthy lifestyles in the first place.”

“I got my period for the first time when I was just 11 years old. I cried because I realized I had become a woman—which, to them, meant becoming a source of shame and something that had to be hidden. I was forced to wear full body covering and a niqab without any say in the matter. I couldn't even eat or drink water while out of the house, for fear my cheek might be exposed. Whenever I wear it, I suffer from intense heat, suffocation, headaches, and sinus issues. I am 27 years old now; my childhood and teenage years flew by, and I have no photos of myself outdoors or with my relatives. My greatest nightmare is that the years will pass without me ever being able to live my own life or wear what I want. I don't want to live in fear of my family. This is the first time I have ever begged anyone for help; please, make our voices heard. I ask anyone reading this to try—even in the smallest way—to assist us. To them, I am an adult woman, yet they treat me as if I lack the capacity to think for myself. Please, help me.”

My parents also forced me to wear niqab without ever asking for my choice or giving me the ability to decide for myself. They first made me wear the abaya and hijab when I was 9. By the end of the age of 10, they forced me to wear the niqab. I will never forget the first time they forced me to wear it. I was 10 years old. I remember seeing a girl around my age at the supermarket who was not wearing an abaya, hijab, or niqab. She was just like me, but she had a freedom that I did not have. I started crying silently when I saw her. I did not want my parents to hear me crying because I was terrified of their reaction, so I tried my hardest not to make a sound. When I tried to resist the niqab, my mother beat me severely, while my father stood there looking at me angrily. He did not need to hit me himself because my mother would do it for him. Honestly, there are many women who reinforce the control and oppression imposed on girls by men. Even mothers can become part of that system and help enforce it against their own daughters. Years later, I confronted my mother and asked her: How could you force a little girl to wear this? How could you force something like this on a child without even giving her a choice? I started looking at pictures of girls who were the same age I had been, and I realized just how incredibly young I actually was. I was a little girl. I was not old enough for anyone to use my age or appearance as a justification for forcing me to cover my face. Then my mother gave me a response that was deeply disturbing and shocking. She said: “Your body was a little fuller than other girls your age, and men might find you desirable.” That answer shocked and disgusted me. I was horrified that my own mother could look at her TEN YEAR old daughter through such a sexualized lens. It made me realize that both of my parents had accepted this way of thinking about a little girl’s body and used it to justify controlling me. I am now an adult. I have never married, and I do not currently want to get married because I am afraid of bringing a little girl into a society where something like this could happen to her. I am also afraid that if I ever died, my daughter could end up being raised by my mother and exposed to the same beliefs and attitudes. And my experience is not unique. There are many women who participate in enforcing the same restrictions on girls and help men maintain control over them, even when those women are their own mothers. I was a child. I should have been allowed to grow up and decide for myself what happens to my own face and body. For me, this issue is not only about the niqab. It is about whether women are actually allowed to make choices about their own appearance and lives. During the COVID-19 pandemic, some women used masks as a way to gradually move away from the niqab. Some tried to go from niqab to wearing a mask, and then eventually to showing their faces. Some women successfully stopped covering their faces, while others remained in what I would call the “mask phase” because their families were still not comfortable with them showing their faces. There are also families who allow women to wear hijab, but would react extremely harshly if those women went outside without hijab and an abaya. Some families may allow a woman to take off her niqab in certain places or at certain events, but expect her to put it back on in other places or at other times. That is why I feel the deeper issue is not simply the niqab itself. Even if forcing girls to wear the niqab stopped, the control could simply shift to forcing them to wear hijab, then an abaya, or controlling where and when they are allowed to show their faces.

I remember one Eid when I was seven years old. I was playing with the boys and fireworks when suddenly one of them hit me and I got burned. I went inside crying to tell my mother, but my aunt took me aside and said, “See what your God has done to you because you play with boys and let them see you.” I also grew up watching my sisters being beaten in front of me. I witnessed so many moments of abuse and threats. There is one moment I will never forget: my father once beat my sister because she laughed loudly in a public place. He hit her with a metal object and, after that, forced her to cover herself completely. I and so many Saudi women need our voices to be heard. We want our future to be different. We don’t want to spend our entire lives wearing black under the justification of religion. Please help us make our voices heard. We want a movement that can change our lives, even if only a little. #٢٠٣٠_بلا_نقاب

“Hadeel Al-Harthi was a 19-year-old Saudi girl who became known on social media for posting videos and showing her face online her brother had reportedly been threatening her for a long time because he didn’t accept the way she lived or the fact that she was openly appearing on social media and described as a feminist and “too liberal” in April 2021, he attacked her and stabbed her six times, killing her he was arrested, but the case later ended after Hadeel’s mother, as one of the heirs entitled to seek qisas, gave up her right to it so the death penalty was not carried out and the case was closed with a legal ruling Hadeel’s story became widely discussed in Saudi Arabia because many people saw her death as an example of how family control over women’s appearance and freedom can turn into extreme violence she was only 19”