If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English

by Noor Naga

When the foreigners left, it all went to shit. When it all went to shit, the foreigners left.

If a man’s anger is lovelier than his loveliness, what kind of ending do you expect?

They don’t hate Muslims, they hate the poor,

Perhaps, had it not been for this moment, we would never have come to love each other.

I felt somehow that she was on my side.

If the shoe doesn’t fit, should you change the foot?

they were laughing. I wanted to vomit.

I have a remembering of the lives I didn’t live.

If you are competing to lose, what do you win if you win?

turns out that to be clean in Egypt

is just to be free of Egypt,

How far can you run from home before you have to face what your father has done?

Is a father who won’t speak up for you the same as a father who can’t speak at all?

She belongs to this apartment as much as I don’t.

Me too, I’m one of you.

Some things, I say my grandmother used to say, are holy.

Which is more frightening—to wake up with injuries or a weapon in your hand?

If the beast is already in your house, does that make the wilderness safer?

If an Egyptian cannot speak English, who is telling his story?

How long can you hate yourself before everyone else hates you too?

Only now, looking back, do I realize how terrible it is to subsist on just enough, without the joy of beautiful things.

I want to die a blunt-edged death.

THAT WE NEED TO BE NEEDED by the one we love is something I should have learned years ago from watching my parents.

There are so many versions of this story, I am ready for them all.

so kind I want to cry.

She’d die all over again if she knew.

Question: How much vanity does it take to be a healer? Answer: an astrological amount.

TRULY THE MOST DEPRESSING KIND OF RELATIONSHIP is one where the blood runs in both directions and it’s unclear who is to blame.

I SPENT THE NIGHT not because I saved her, but because she saved me.

There’s a danger between us, but I’m not always sure who it belongs to. Which of us needs protection and which of us should be afraid?

There’s this script. Like a social script. And it keeps women trapped in these destructive relationships because they feel guilty leaving. I just think as writers, we have a hand in shaping that. I’m not saying we should all write manuals, like how-to-leave-your-boyfriend or get-out-alive … but at the same time our writing isn’t just floating in the ether [mimes a butterfly with one hand]. We need to hold each other accountable for the narratives we perpetuate. Don’t get me wrong—I love this memoir project, I think it’s so, so important. But if we’re going to have this account of a girl who blames herself for the death of her depressive, possessive, extremely violent ex, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little more self-interrogation.

To remind us all that good things can come from our grimmest hours. That if we face our traumas and trust in the healing power of narrative, we can produce work that is valuable—even marketable.