Lumm.’ ‘Alison, please,’ she replied. ‘Now we’re all on a first name basis,’ I smiled. ‘I hope you have a wonderful day. Alison!’ She...waved, beaming the same captivating smile that still haunts me to this day. For the next three mornings, I would draw Alison’s blood, each time, learning a little more about her. She told me of her childhood in rural Indiana, growing up poor on her family’s small farm and how the only thing that saved her from continuing the family legacy of toil and dearth was. Thisis not right. This is a dressing room for girls.? The entireroom was covered from wall to wall like a woman clothing shop. Two matronsgreeted him: ?Welcome. You are Ahmed Hussein and you have come to the rightplace. You are going to be dressed as a girl for the next week. Please,cooperate or we would restrain you.? He began tosob. ?It can not be right. This is humiliating.? ?Just ashumiliating as the girls felt you teased in the street? Just as humiliating asthe girl felt you forced into. More

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