Freedom is to live with dignity

I was lonely, desperate, and angry. At that moment, I truly understood what it meant to be a Saudi woman. It meant being confronted with every possible kind of
obstacle and discrimination. It meant being told that if you want to race with men, you’d have to do it with your hands and legs cut off. I started to wish I had been born somewhere—anywhere—else.

So you’re the infamous Manal al-Sharif,” he said, eyeing me from behind his desk. “Aren’t you ashamed of what you did?”
“Is driving a car something shameful?” I answered back.

We were like captive animals that had lost the will to fight. We even went so far as to defend the very constraints that they had
imposed upon us.

How beautiful it is to live in a world with no walls.

How odd it is that we judge a woman by her clothes and the place she eats lunch and the subjects she talks about with her colleagues
on her coffee break, yet we don’t judge a man if he doesn’t grow his beard or if he works with women or speaks to them. Why do Saudi women allow subjugation to a man and adhere to men’s rules and conditions? Why did I?