Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • ­It was January 28th, 2011.

    They called it the Friday of Rage.

    I was in Cairo and it was the fourth day of the uprising against Mubarak.

    At 9PM I'd lost myself in the throng of protesters as it surged in and out of Tahrir Square.

    It felt amazing to be apart of something so powerful.

    Running back and forth in the dark, defying the police. Throwing their tear gas back at them.

    The ground was wet and it glowed orange from the street lamps.

    When we took cover from the police, muddy water soaked into our jeans.

    I was with some men pushing a wall of office furniture towards the police.

    We were trying to keep them out of the square.

    You wouldn't believe how unafraid we were.

    But it was sort of simple.

    Here was this evil police-state and every one of us was superman.

    It didn't matter if we were hurt, because we were thousands.

    Then they shot me with a rubber bullet.

    It hit me under the right eye.

    I thought it was a real bullet at first because it knocked me down and there was a lot of blood.

    I got up and ran back behind a building where it was calm.

    I've never felt like that before.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.