“I am writing this story from the heart of an experience I live every single day, as a 26-year-old Saudi woman. I have my own life, my job, and my independence outside the house; I go out into the world whenever I want and go about my daily routine, but I never leave the house looking or presenting myself the way I truly wish to. There is always something suppressing my identity and forced upon me against my will: the niqab.
This isn't just about a piece of fabric or a societal choice; it is a symbol of tyrannical authority forced upon me since childhood. And the person enforcing this full face veil on me from my family is none other than my brother—the very same person who sexually abused me as a child, starting when I was just four years old until I reached eight.
During those early years, no one taught me
how to protect my body, nor did anyone educate me on what sexual abuse meant or what was off-limits to be exposed or touched.
I felt deep distress and pain I couldn't comprehend, suffering without knowing what to call it or realizing it was forbidden. Once I grew a little older and understood the truth, I stood up to him and put an end to it.
However, stopping him didn't end the nightmare—it merely shifted it into a different form of control. He replaced his abuse with physical violence, rage, and aggressive male dominance. By the time I turned twelve, his obsession with covering my face and erasing my identity intensified. Whenever I tried to resist, my mother would force the niqab on me, and if she sensed any opposition, she would set my abuser brother on me to scold me, intimidate me, and break my will.
Today, at 26 years old, I still find myself trapped behind this piece of cloth—not out of faith or personal choice, but because my abusive brother insists on covering me, obsessed with making sure no one else looks at me or touches what he once abused.
Please publish this for me and be my voice..”