tw: assault
One of the things I'm doing more with my writing is to sit with past trauma and remember. After Egyptian police broke both my arms and sexually assaulted me, I felt like I'd been pushed down a bottomless well of grief. I had not reckoned yet with displaced trauma.
I felt the assault robbed me of beauty but an actual robbery took out the bottom from my bottomless pit of grief. It took the theft of a suitcase seven months after I was assaulted to break me in a way that three fractures could not.
I am not a materialistic person. I own very few things. I have no house, no car, no savings in the bank, no assets, no fancy furniture. My laptop, smartphone, a 1950s red recliner and my books are my possessions. And I recognize those are much more than many people own.
My suitcase was stolen during a layover in Tripoli airport in Libya in June 2012. The theft inflicted a sharp and desperate pain that hurt me more than my actual assault. I was astounded at how much it hurt. I did not cry after I was assaulted.
But when it became clear that my suitcase would never return, I would run into the bathroom and sob, convulsively, into the sink, as quietly as I could because I did not want my parents to hear me break down.
When I disappeared for 12 hours after a protest on Mohamed Mahmoud Street in November 2011, they thought I had died. After all I’d put them through with my own disappearance, I did not want them to see me break down over the disappearance of a suitcase,
I not only survived my assault but here I was back in Egypt less than a year after the regime sent its riot police to assault and detain me. And here I was sobbing into the bathroom sink, breaking down over a fucking suitcase.
The suitcase made material my grief and made Deliberate Beauty even more urgent. I wanted beauty that could not be stolen like that suitcase.

Two months after my suitcase was stolen, I got my first ever tattoo; it took engraving my body to save my heart. feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
Ancient Egypt and the power of the goddess on my right arm. The courage and resilience of revolution rendered in the beautiful letters of Arabic on my left arm. Forever mine. Never to be taken. My mother goddess on one arm. My mother tongue on the other. Mona's forearms with tattoos
The way I broke down over the stolen suitcase makes me wonder about displaced grief a lot these days.

As I say in my essay, we have not reckoned with the immense grief of 2.5 million people killed by #COVID19. We have not reckoned with our bottomless pit of grief.
I don't know when I'll be vaccinated. I'm getting invitations for in-person events this summer onwards. And I'm thinking of how we will emerge. Not "back to normal." There is no going back. Refuse to emerge as if unscathed. I insist that we all be scathed feministgiant.com/p/essay-fallin…
Grief and trauma are sneaky shits. They know our subconscious is full of holes. They know where to kick and where it will hurt. They know a stolen suitcase will have me sobbing convulsively into the sink.

Those holes outlined in fear and chaos. So I write to trace them.
Those of us who did not die will emerge, our hearts unhealed and scarred but awesome.

We have to find our place in communal mourning & whisper to each other’s hearts “We know you’re strong. Look at what you survived. You can be soft here, we’ve got you.” feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
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More from @monaeltahawy

2 Mar
Men & women of all social classes were wearing eyeliner in Egypt as early as 6000 BC. The hieroglyphic term for makeup artist derives from the root “sesh,”--to write/engrave. Ancient Egyptian word for “makeup palette” derives from word meaning “to protect" feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
Cosmetics were found in the graves of men, women, and children in ancient Egypt. And according to ancient Egyptian manuscripts, eye makeup was believed to have a magical role, in which the gods Horus and Ra would protect wearers against several illnesses. nationalgeographic.com/science/articl…
I love this detail of a painting from the tomb of Nakht depicting three ladies at a feast, wearing perfumed cones in their hair and elaborate necklaces, from the 18th dynasty (1421–1413 B.C.E.) Photo by Werner Forman/Universal Images Group/Getty Images Image
Read 8 tweets
28 Feb
In 2011 when my arms were both casts, unable to do simplest of things for myself & adrift in a bottomless pit of grief, I felt I'd been robbed of beauty. I could present my 2 broken arms & say “Here are my wounds” but what to point to in explaining what trauma had robbed from me. Mona from the hips up wearing black short sleeved tshirt sho
Beauty, it had stolen beauty. And so bit by bit I rebuilt it.

After a visit to the orthopedic surgeon’s clinic, I would find a nearby nail salon and get my nails manicured and painted green and tweet the pictures - complete with a cast covering half of my hands. Mona's hand in a bandage, fingers showing with green-painted
Here I am, my green nails said. One step in front of another trying to walk forward to beauty: “listen I love you joy is coming.” (See Kim Addonizio poem in essay)

I was building what I call Deliberate Beauty feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
Read 21 tweets
28 Feb
Glad to see more and outlets reporting on the role of white women in the January 6 insurrection. Here's my essay from January 10. It's the most viewed and shared of all my essays so far. Subscribe to FEMINIST GIANT feministgiant.com
White Women Storm the Capitol a thread on the essay
My essay about white women who stormed the Capitol was part one of this series. Part two was about the white women who supported the insurrection from within the Capitol: Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert feministgiant.com/p/a-white-supr…
Read 4 tweets
28 Feb
Watching the new season of a show that is now depicting the start of the pandemic. It's the first of my regular shows that I've seen that acknowledges the pandemic and watching the characters first learn about COVID was awful, so triggering. I wanted to cry. Run away and cry.
The pandemic has killed at least 2.5 million people around the world so far. And we have not reckoned with the magnitude of our pain and grief. We are not prepared for the bottom of the bottomless pit of grief, as I say here feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
It's been a year already lockdown started for many people around the world. This coming month will be a year for me and those of us in North America.

I remember at the start we thought at the latest we'd be out and about again in June.
Read 10 tweets
27 Feb
#Australia: remember when I asked “How long must we wait for men and boys to stop murdering us, to stop beating us and to stop raping us? How many rapists must we kill?"and this episode of Q&A was banned. My question remains: How many rapists must we kill?
And I did not then and I do not now mean state death penalties. The state already had a monopoly over violence. Fuck that.

I mean us. Those of us who are raped and assaulted and beaten. How many rapists must *we* kill until cis men stop raping us? feministgiant.com/p/i-beat-my-as…
The chapter in The Seven Necessary Sins for Women and Girls where I ask those questions is the most controversial in my book, I know. Here's an excerpt feministgiant.com/p/how-many-rap…
Read 4 tweets
27 Feb
This is part of my Perimenopause Papers - a series
Perimenopause Papers - part one of a series feministgiant.com/p/essay-fallin…
I wasn’t paying attention at first to either my perimenopause or the pandemic. Once they both started, you’re in an in-between that can take years so you’d better learn to acclimate. Perimenopause? Pandemic? It’s like a fucking Jeopardy but for hormones. feministgiant.com/p/deliberate-b…
Read 4 tweets

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