Etaf Rum

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

—Maya Angelou

Where I come from, voicelessness is the condition of my gender, as normal as the bosoms on a woman’s chest, as necessary as the next generation growing inside her belly.

“Be sure to pin your hijab properly so your hair doesn’t show. We don’t want our guests to get the wrong impression.”

A woman belongs at home

“Now they will know we are poor!”

A daughter was only a temporary guest, quietly awaiting another man to scoop her away, along with all her financial burden.

But Isra had learned from a very young age that obedience was the single path to love

A proper girl never lays her gaze on a man!

Isra didn’t feel she belonged in Palestine either, where people lived carefully, following tradition so they wouldn’t be shunned.

She could imagine the man, even if she couldn’t see his face. He would build her a library with all her favorite stories and poetry. They would read by the window every night—Rumi, Hafez, and Gibran. She would tell him about her dreams, and he would listen