Every time I decide to travel with our women-only cyclist group, my body trembles as if It is a crime to be a girl in this land.

For those who don’t know, a bunch of women and girls in our city have formed a group and they go on short cycling trips without the presence of men. There are some women that their husbands do not like them to travel alongside men, and some girls are coming with their mothers.

I oppose the philosophy of sexism, but in this situation, you cannot be an idealist, because I know that this in itself is a tremendous advance in a backward society. Some even won’t tolerate that too and consider us the enemy of religion and the shame of the society.

The girls and women in our group are amazing in terms of endurance and ability, and they are powerful, educated, have kids and jobs while being enchanting beauties who pedal wonderfully on the road.

On the way, on an unequal battlefield, cars, vans, and even motorcyclists were constantly honking for us. And even teenage boys were teasing and making fun of us.

Imagine an accused staged in the middle of a mire that has to endure the horrible wave of stones thrown and must have a satisfied smile on. My friends proudly raised their heads and were pleased with who they are, and the taunts and rages that come from a sexually ill society never made them depressed or frustrated.

 I remember, my friend and I were pedaling ahead when a car sped behind us on the freeway bridge. As if he was riding like a crazy person, the driver rubbed the car’s metal body on my friend's bicycle, and suddenly with a brutal speed took off to scare her.

My heart sank. Terror filled my whole body. I wanted to scream, my eyes went a little black, my friend, on the other hand, kept her cool and continued to pedal. I was full-on cursing and frustrated.

Behind us, two motorcyclists approached us. One of them first tried to get our attention and teased us. We ignored their bad-mouthing. Another one started with annoying horns, and finally, when he saw no reaction, he moved in front of us. Then he put his foot on the ground, in the middle of sands and dirt on the side of the road, and raised as much dust as he could …

As I passed through the dust, I was so angry, as if my blood was boiling. My face was hot with rage and I wanted to swear at the whole world.

All of the sudden, I saw a 6-7-year-old girl looking out of the car window with a sweet smile on her face. A smile full of enthusiasm, satisfaction, pride, and auspiciousness sat on her little lips.

And her gaze was fixed on the two of us as if she was saying: When I grew up! I Want to be like you …