I’m 20 now, and I first started wearing the niqab when I was 10. Why? Because in my family, getting your period basically meant you were no longer a child. You were suddenly a “grown woman” who had to cover up. When I was nine, I was just a kid. I could run around, play, sing, be loud, do whatever kids do. Then I turned ten, got my period, and suddenly everything changed. I was expected to be quiet, stop running around, avoid anything too physically active, and always be mindful of the fact that I was now wearing a niqab. It’s honestly strange how overnight I went from being treated like a child to being expected to behave like a woman. Now I take off the niqab behind my family’s back. I basically live a double life: I wear it in front of them, and take it off when I’m away from them. Legally, I’m not required to wear the niqab, or even the abaya. The problem is what happens inside families. I genuinely believe there should be laws that protect women from being forced into clothing they don’t choose, and that penalize anyone who tries to take away a woman’s right to make decisions about her own clothes and body whether that person is her father, husband, or brother.

When I was 13, my father tried to force me to wear the niqab through verbal abuse and beatings. I tried—I tried so hard—to resist him, but unfortunately, I had no one to help me, and I ended up wearing it. My father used to tell me my face was like a donkey’s—ugly and not worth looking at—and that I should cover it. I would retort that, at the very least, a donkey doesn't wear a niqab. When I was 10, I saw a "Tiffany blue" abaya at the market with a funny cat design on it. My father saw me looking at it and asked if I wanted it; I said no, that I didn't like it. He told me he would slit my throat—actually slit it with a knife—if I ever wore it, simply because of the color. My father doesn't care about my prayers or my religious observance; he ignores the true priorities of Islam, focusing only on the niqab—something for which he threatens to kill me. I hate the beach and being there because it reminds me that I am a prisoner of the niqab. While people around me swim, I hate being seen in such a suppressed state; I can’t swim or run because of the niqab, and people laugh and call me "Batman." I experienced suicidal thoughts and crying spells this past July because of the niqab. Seven years of oppression. Seven years without the air touching my face. I am seriously considering ending my life if things continue this way, for what is the value of a life like this? #٢٠٣٠_بلا_نقاب