An Egyptian woman struggles with her identity as a lesbian in a country that denies her existence. A mysterious stranger and the ladies of Litchfield help her find her way. This week’s essay is read by Dascha Polanco, who plays Daya in Orange is the New Black.
A warning to our listeners. In this episode, we hear stories about abuse, along with detailed descriptions of suicidal thoughts and behaviors, so parts of it may be difficult to hear. We have changed the names in this story to protect the privacy of everyone involved.
ALEX: Steve's Greek Cuisine? Le Grand Fromage? Bullshit. You need a lesson in fudging your resume.
PIPER: Do you work here?
ALEX: You’ve never waited a fucking table in your life, have you?//
PIPER: [laughs]
ALEX: So, Piper Chapman. Smith grad with excellent listening skills. Passionate about making diners feel good. [laughs] I like that in a woman.
PIPER: Who are you?
ALEX: My name is Alex
PIPER: What do you do Alex, besides make fun of strangers in bars?
ALEX: I work for an international drug cartel
HABIBAH: I watched Orange is the New Black and I didn’t know there was even a fan group and I felt like that’s impossible because you know the whole show is almost about queer people and like different people…. you know, sometimes you feel like you are alone.
MEREDITH: I’m Meredith Goldstein, host of The Love Letter’s Podcast and avid television watcher. And this is Because I Watched: A podcast exploring how real people’s stories have been changed thanks to their favorite Netflix shows and movies. Each week, we’ll be exploring inspiring stories from all over the world. People whose lives have been changed, because of their favorite Netflix series.
When I’m not hosting this show, I run a love advice column for the Boston Globe. It’s taught me that no matter who you are it takes courage to start a new relationship. But for some there’s a lot more on the line. Depending on who they are or where they live and who’s around them. They might be at risk for bullying, violence, incarceration, or even death.
Today we will hear about a woman who took such risks, and about how one show about a group of incarcerated women led her to freedom.
MEREDITH: This story, written by Heather Jeng Bladt, is about how Orange is the New Black gave one woman courage to come out in a society where being gay can get you killed. Read by Dascha Polanco who plays Daya on the show.
DASCHA: “Should we kiss?” A mixture of excitement, fear, and desire bubbled up inside me as Raghda asked the question.
Raghda was my best friend. We were 13 the day it happened, but I’d been waiting for this moment since we were four - since that day Raghda and I were playing with some boys and one of them stole her toy. I tackled him and fought him until he gave it up - I told the boys to never annoy her again, or else they’d have to answer to me. Even back then, I knew that I loved Raghda.
“Yes?” I answered breathlessly.
“Good. Come kiss me”
I leaned in slowly, the heat of passion inflaming depths of my body I had not been aware of before. Our lips met, then our tongues mingled. Between kisses she whispered, “More, please.” She took my hand and put my hand down her underwear. Our hands explored for what felt like forever wrapped into a mere moment. My mind raced: “Is this really happening? I can’t believe this is happening! My first kiss is with my best friend, who I’ve loved for years! And she loves me back. She loves me! I love her! We’re going to figure this whole mess out together.” I left her house that evening drunk off the smile she gave me, and her promise to see me tomorrow. She arranged for us to meet again in secret when her mom was out.
But then, one day, after several of these trysts, Raghda suddenly felt bad about what we were doing. She invented a reason for us to get into a fight, and told me she didn’t want to be my friend anymore. Whenever we saw each other in passing after that, we avoided each other’s eyes. We acted as if we never cared for each other.
DASCHA: I lost my best friend, and my first love, because I am a lesbian. Raghda was also my only friend. The person I was supposed to be able to talk to about all of this. But she was gone from my life, leaving me utterly alone. I came to the conclusion that I could never show my true self to anyone ever again.
Growing up with Raghda, I had no idea that liking a girl was wrong. In Alexandria, Egypt, where I live, it is normal for girls to hold hands as friends and kiss each other in the streets as a friendly greeting. But when I got to middle school, I realized I wasn’t seeing girls in romantic relationships with other girls - only with boys. And if anyone was suspected of liking someone of the same gender in a sexual way, people would call them “faggots”, which I came to understand was not a nice word to be called. I became confused – if it was normal for girls to kiss as a friendly greeting, why couldn’t I kiss Raghda romantically? But it didn’t matter what I thought. It was wrong in the eyes of everybody else. Including Raghda.
It is not explicitly against the law in Egypt to be gay, but there are morality laws that can be stretched to criminalize homosexuals, or anyone who is seen as queer. And since the Muslim faith is so predominant in Egypt, most of the population views homosexuality as immoral. Which means that even if it isn’t technically illegal, being gay feels illegal. The punishment is imprisonment. But being locked up isn’t even the worst of it. I knew a transgender girl - she was assigned the male gender at birth, but transitioned when she was fourteen. She was thrown into a men’s prison where the men harassed her psychologically and emotionally. I also knew a woman who romantically kissed another woman and was caught by an officer. Instead of putting her in prison, he took her to his home, invited other officers over, and they gangraped her, telling her it would turn her straight. As a young Muslim woman who knew I was gay, I realized I had to keep my true self hidden if I wanted to survive.
DASCHA: I have always cared what people think about me, and tried to make them happy. For example: my family has picked at me for being chubby my entire life, telling me that no boy will want to marry me looking the way I do. So, I’ve been on diets my whole life – many of which were not even healthy, and have caused me stomach issues. Worse yet, the diets never worked, which left me hating my body, and feeling like there’s something wrong with it. After Raghda left me because she decided being a lesbian is not right, I didn’t want to be alone in my wrongness. I became obsessed with trying to turn myself straight, hoping the gay would just go away. I tried to date guys to prove to everyone - especially myself - that I was the same as everyone else.
A little while after I had that fateful lesbian encounter with Raghda, I started going around with a boy who lived in the same building as my family. I could tell he took an interest in me and I entertained his advances, becoming friends because that was the “normal” thing to do. He was nice enough to talk to. But one day he made his big move. He found me alone in my home, taking care of my younger brother. He approached me like a tiger finding its dinner. He stripped me down and forced himself into my body, every single part of it. He did everything to me except actually have sex with me. And he did it all in front of my younger brother. I knew it felt wrong, but I also knew that sexual relations with a man was supposed to feel right, so I ultimately saw this as a good thing. I was in a heterosexual relationship! But, when my family found out from my brother what had happened, they saw me as a ho. They thought I wasn’t a virgin anymore, and wouldn’t let me explain I still was. They deemed me a slut and started treating me like the black sheep of the family.
Despite being very depressed about being ostracized, I tried to do better, to earn back my family’s respect and love. Throughout high school and college, I dated other guys and kept myself chaste. But in my family’s eyes, I was still the soiled thirteen-year-old. When I was twenty, a man asked me to marry him. We were friends and co-workers. We shared the same opinions about politics and religion. We had even thought about starting a business together. In light of all of that, and believing he would be the one to finally turn me into a heterosexual, I said, “yes.” Finally, things began to change. My family was aflutter about marrying me off. Up until then, they thought my weight would make it impossible for me to get married. They were excited to make all the arrangements for my wedding. They were excited for me. They were excited about me. For the first time in seven years, they treated me like I was part of the family. My isolation was over at last.
DASCHA: I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize this feeling. But then, my fiancé cheated on me. When I confronted him about it, he lied to me. He turned the conversation into an argument about everything he thought was wrong with me; he reopened every grievance he ever had, and hurled it all at me in punishment. He remembered how I had brought up my beloved grandpa after he had passed, and told me how angry it made him to hear about the dead. He rehashed our argument over me wearing a niqab - a face cover used for modesty. I used to wear one whenever I was in public. But once, when we went on a trip to Saudi Arabia, I had surprised him by starting to wear it in private as well. He told me he didn't want me to wear it in private, because he wanted to be able to see me and touch me. But when I stopped wearing it in public too, because it made it hard for me to breathe, he was even more angry - he said my body could only be his. As my mental state declined because of his insults, he told me that if I didn’t pretend to be happy about being his wife, he would lock me in our house once we got married with no family and no friends. I called the engagement off.
My family was furious; they went back to treating me the way they had before: like I was nothing. The emotional whiplash made me realize they only liked me because of what I later deemed “Mother of the Bride Syndrome”. They hadn’t been excited for me. They were excited for the marriage. They wanted the spectacle and prestige that came along with marrying off one of their daughters. If I had gotten married, I would no longer have been a burden to them. Instead, I had dashed all their dreams.
But they had done the same to mine. They shattered the delusional bubble I had been trying so hard to squish myself inside of. I finally saw things for what they were. Even if I pretended to be straight, my family and friends wouldn’t like me. I was unhappy hiding my true self, and I was still alone. But I couldn’t be my true self either - it wasn’t allowed. So, what was the point of being me at all – lesbian or heterosexual?
DASCHA: I talked to God a lot about this Catch 22. I asked for His help: “How could this be? I’m damned if I let myself be who I am, and I’m damned if I try to fake who I am too. Who am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be? What do I do? Please, just tell me what to do and I’ll do it!” I did not get an answer. Since God wasn’t talking, I had to find someone who would. My dad was of the opinion that therapy was for crazy people, so there was no way I could ask for my family’s help with this. I found a therapist online and paid for it with my own money. She focused on keeping me alive and making me feel like a normal person. But I was in a really bad place, feeling nothing but anxiety and depression. I became very sick and had to go to the doctor. This doctor sent me to a different therapist, but this one didn’t even bother listening to me. She made fun of my issues as if I were being a silly kid.
I descended into a spiral of despair. I didn’t see the point of anything anymore. That’s when I tried to take my life. I made three different attempts - first with pills, which made me dizzy and nauseous. My heart hurt when I moved, as if someone was trying to pull me down every time I tried to stand up. But I survived.
Next, I tried deep cutting. There was blood, and more dizziness. Again I survived, bearing scars from the cuts that spelled out the words “I hate you”.
For my final attempt, I injected air into my vein. My hand became blue and puffy, but I was still alive.
By this point it was clear that I was someone who needed help. I didn’t wake up for nearly a day after my first attempt. I had cuts all over my hands and legs after the second. And I had that swelled blue hand after the third. Yet my family didn’t even notice.
DASCHA: In spite of all this, deep down, something inside of me wanted to keep going. Not having the energy or desire to be around people, and still living with my family, who didn’t miss an opportunity to let me know what a burden I was on them, I spent a lot of my time alone in my bedroom. To distract myself from all these terrible feelings, I turned to watching Netflix on my phone. And that’s when I made an unexpected discovery: even though the morality laws effectively made it illegal to be gay in Egypt, there were no restrictions on what we could watch on Netflix. I binge-watched anything that caught my eye. And more than anything else, the characters of Orange is the New Black were a revelation for me.
I watched in awe of Poussey, who knew she was in love with her best friend Taystee, and took the leap of telling her so. When the feelings weren’t reciprocated, Taystee not only remained friends with Poussey, but they continued to support one another through the trying experience of prison life. And when Poussey went on to find love with Soso, it gave me hope. I found strength in Sophia, as she lived her truth as a woman, not a man - and in her wife, who stayed by her side through it all. I discovered a kindred spirit in Nicky, and found it beautiful when she gave up the love of her life, Lorna, so Lorna could be happy. And the moment Piper finally embraces herself and figures out she’s meant to be with Alex, I remember thinking, “They’re just like me.”
Watching women being open about their sexuality in an empowering way provided me with a great comfort I had never felt before. These women were a reflection of real people in the world. People like me. I realized I was no longer alone.
Around this time, I started seeing a new therapist, who began with discussing how I feel about everything – being gay, my family, and my ex-fiance. He pinpointed the urgent issues that made me feel suicidal, and tried to help me solve them, so I could stay alive. He wanted me to accept myself. To do that, I realized I needed to get away from the pressures of my family’s house. I needed to hear my true inner self speak to me. I didn’t want to just hide out alone in my room. So, I decided to do something for me.
DASCHA: It was the time of year that shooting stars fill the night sky over Egypt. To get the best view of the spectacle, I took a weekend trip to a part of the desert south of Cairo called Wadi Al-Hitan, or Whale Valley. It’s a historical site in the middle of nowhere - 40 million years ago, it was under the ocean. You can take tours during the day to see fossils of ancient whales and other sea life. Maybe it was random or maybe it was some cosmic magic, but on the tour, I met a man named Mantis, and we immediately became friends. We were very different people, but we had at least one thing in common: we were both wandering around the desert looking for answers to our problems. We didn’t know what each other’s problems were, but we could sense we were on similar quests.
And it turned out we had a mutual love for Orange is the New Black It was nice to have someone to share my thoughts on the show with so freely - and to have them reciprocated. I had some episodes from season 1 downloaded to my phone, so when the tour ended in the afternoon, we set up our tents, made an early dinner and tea over a campfire, and watched Orange, debating whether or not Piper would be in a lesbian relationship again as we waited for nightfall.
That night, as we laid on the ground next to each other, staring up at the shooting stars, discussing our worldviews, Mantis said, “You are an amazing person.” I went silent. A pit formed in my stomach. I was still hiding a part of myself from him, and it was preventing me from making a true friend. It was keeping me alone. Thinking back to what I had been working on with my therapist, I decided I was someone worth being friends with. I took a leap. “You don’t know me,” I said. “I’m not what I look like. I’m not the person you think I am.” He replied, “Why is that?” My eyes became teary. “I have this secret,” I said. “If you knew it, you wouldn’t think I’m amazing anymore.” “If you want to tell me, I will listen,” Mantis replied.
Although I had only met him earlier that day, I felt the world coming together. We both had the same views on Orange is the New Black. We both came to the desert seeking answers to our problems. In that moment, lying next to him, surrounded by the stars, I felt safe. I took a deep breath and said, “There’s this girl. She’s amazing… And I have a huge crush on her.” For a moment, Mantis didn’t speak. I was too scared to look over and see the look on his face. I braced myself for a devastating blow.
DASCHA: “Wow,” he said finally. “That was a real secret.” I laughed to break the tension. So did he. And then he said, “By the way, it’s okay to love her. And I hope she loves you back.” My fear melted into relief. Tears poured out of me, washing away years of pain. I didn’t have to hide anymore. I could be me.
Mantis and I promised to keep in touch, but I still had to go back home and face my family. It was hard living with them, they did so many things to set back my progress towards accepting myself. But, with my therapist, I continued to dig deeper into my problems. There was one exercise in particular that was incredibly helpful. Each week, he told me, I should spend some time alone with my body. So, I would stand in front of the mirror, completely naked. I looked closely at every single part, every single line and stretch mark. I would stand in front of the mirror, completely naked. I kept doing the exercise, digging even deeper, until one day I looked into the mirror and finally listened to my inner voice. The voice told me that this body is me, and it’s okay to be chubby or fat or whatever. It told me that my sexual orientation will be with me forever. There’s a whole world inside of me, it said. Why hate it when you can love it?
As of right now, I’m still living with my family. At the moment, I know they won’t like me no matter who I am. But my therapist has helped me to understand that all I have control over is accepting myself, and that hopefully, one day, my family, friends, and even God will accept me too. And true to our promise, Mantis and I talk on the phone nearly every day. He’s always there when I need to call him in a panic to talk through bad feelings, or vent about my family.
Another way I get through my days is with Lavender. Lavender is an online persona I created - I named her after my favorite flower. Lavender is bold. Lavender is free to be who she wants to be. Lavender is happy. She’s also a member of a variety of Orange is the New Black online fan groups, where she’s bonded with others over the heartbreak of Poussey’s funeral, and the freedom that comes with Big Boo’s “I am who I am” attitude. With Orange as a jumping off point, Lavender has made real connections with other queer people who are struggling with their situations. Through Lavender, I’ve become friends with a trans woman from the United States with an abusive mother, and a suicidal gay woman in Canada. We help each other. We give each other someone to talk to – someone who understands.
A month ago, my sister discovered Lavender. She told my mother. Now, they both know I’m gay.
They want me to get help to change who I am. They think that I don’t have to be a homosexual. They haven’t told my father. If he ever found out they knew and didn’t tell him, he’d be furious - but they want to bury this so deep, they’re willing to risk his ire. They also think he doesn’t have to know because they’re going to find a way to convert me. It reinforces how much they haven’t paid attention to my struggle over the years. It speaks to their hubris. That vanity I have been competing against my whole life.
DASCHA: But little do they know, I’m no longer desperate for their love. I let them talk to me about conversion and ridding myself of this sickness, as they call it. But I know it’s never going to happen, because I have a plan for my future that only includes them if they accept me as who I am.
Over the past year, I took another leap: I became friends with a group of other queer people in Alexandria - I found them through a Facebook group I happened upon. I initially joined because it turned out that I watched a lot of the same TV shows as others in the group. But it’s also where I met my girlfriend, Begum – or “my demon” as I like to call her, because we both think “my angel” is so boring.
We’ve had an intense relationship, helping each other through some dark times this past year, which helped us get to know each other very quickly. Just recently, I proposed to her - with Mantis there, because he is my family now. Our marriage would not be legal in Egypt. But I am engaged to my demon. And we’re saving up money to move out of Egypt for good next year. This is my plan. This is my future. Thanks to Orange is the New Black, my therapist, Mantis, Begum, and Lavender, I have finally been able to become myself. Habibah.
When I kiss my fiancé now, I’m no longer the thirteen-year-old girl who is worried my friend is leaving me because she hates who I really am. No longer the girl whose family thinks she is a whore, even though she’s hiding who she really is. I kiss my demon, her beautiful brown eyes looking at me, her curly black hair soft to my touch. Her lips meet mine and I know I can be the real me. Because Begum loves me. But most importantly, I love me.
DASCHA: Reading the essay, first of all, for the first time, um… it just exposes you to a lot of stories that don’t get the opportunity to be told. And when people find inspiration, connection, hope through entertainment, right? Through this show, Orange is the New Black, it’s very gratifying. It’s rewarding. It just, for me it’s something that humbles me because I know that sometimes as artists it’s all about what we’re doing. What we’re creating. And I want to speak from my perspective, because I’m not no expert in anybody else's, but for me, I kind of get lost in that circle where I’m creating creating creating, and not really thinking about who or what or how it will affect other people. And so when you hear these stories like that, about across the seas, about women or men or whoever you identify with, being able to use my art and what I’m a part of as a way of like, gaining strength? It reminds me how to be grateful and how important our work is.
DASCHA: You’re an admirable individual. You’re a strong woman, and I connected with you through your words. I know there will be moments where oyu will look back and feel moments of sadness or moments of feeling alone. And you’re never alone. So I’m glad that you discovered that. I’m glad that you know that you are as important as everybody else. Your experience must be heard. You’re courageous. And I’m very proud of you.
HABIBAH: I’m going to live this life just once, I’m going to be in this body just once so make yourself a favor, admit your feelings, live it, and you won’t be able to change it anymore. This is what onare, this is who you are and that’s it.
MEREDITH: Thank you for listening to Because I Watched.
Next week, we’ll hear about how the rom-com, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, helped one woman feel less alone.
If you like what you heard, please rate and review us on Apple Podcasts! It makes it easier for other people to find the show.
Because I Watched is produced by Netflix and Spoke Media. Today’s essay was written by Heather Jeng Bladt and read by Dascha Polanco. Special thanks to Habibah for sharing her story.
This is Meredith. We’ll see you next week!