Daughters of Smoke and Fire

by Ava Homa

Passing men whistled, catcalled, then scoffed at my old-fashioned clothes as they drew closer. They could treat me however they liked. Women came in only two types: whores or dutiful slaves to their families. Good girls would not go to a park alone. Good girls would be content with having men breathe the fresh air on their behalf, take in all the oxygen one required to keep women at bay.

I needed to be invisible enough for this “virtuous” society. “Cover every sign of femininity under your dark chador. Disappear.”