I love my sons, I love my husband, and I love my country. But in kingdoms of men, there are few - if any - choices for women. Or the choices are such that there is no greater pain than having to choose.

I went to a technology conference in Germany, and there were these beautiful, model-like women standing there in front of the products. I asked a question, and she had no clue what the product was. She had to call someone from the back to explain it to me. To me, that's using a woman as an object. To me, that's totally wrong.

In Saudi Arabia, they always tell us we are queens. We are pistachios. You know the nut? Like something that is protected. So even if you have a very good education, restraints are put on women.

The Saudi ideal of a woman is a religious mother who rarely ventures out: She shouldn't work with men, she should be completely covered, and she shouldn't go out alone to run errands.

My father's generation of Saudi men are more liberal than the men of my generation. But with women, it's the opposite.

I realised it is impossible to live with the rules they give Saudi women. Just impossible. You trying to do everything by the book, but you can never stay pure.

That is life for a Saudi woman: wherever we go, whatever we achieve, we are the property of a man.

I measure the impact I make by how harsh the attacks are. The harsher the attacks, the better I am doing.

When I see something wrong, I speak up.

For me, driving - or the right to drive - is not only about moving from A to B; it's a way to emancipate women. It gives them so much liberty. It makes them independent.