Slim and tanned with hazel eyes and long, dark brown hair, Lamia is a pretty lady. Her eyes reflect will power, strength and determination to live as best as she can. She moves to the beats of music with artfulness and passion for an occupation life threw her in; belly dancing.

Fifteen years ago, the 20-year-old Lamia* was forced to the unmerciful streets of Egypt, making a series of tough choices that led her to a very unpredictable life.

* The names were changed upon Lamia’s request.

At the age of 16, she got married to a 20-year-old man from her neighborhood. She was a single child brought up by her poor mother who worked as a maid. “I honestly thought I was in love, he bought me cute gifts and smiled at me like I owned the world, and truth was I owned nothing, so it felt great to be loved this way,” Lamia said with a broken smile.

Soon after marriage his inheritance money started running out and she could barely read and write, so she started cultivating vegetables on the rooftop and selling them in the streets. “But he wouldn’t move, he sat on the couch all day smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap beer. Two years passed and we discovered that he had a fertility problem and that we couldn’t have kids. I was devastated; I dreamed of having three girls, but I loved him, I naively thought that was enough,” Lamia said.

With time, Lamia started noticing her personal belongings getting misplaced “I would come back from work to find my nightgowns in the washing basket and I was sure I didn’t wear them, and when I asked Youssef he would say, ‘you must have forgotten, what, do you think I would wear them?’ and storm into a ridiculous laugh.”

When her suspicion got the better of her, Lamia decided to drop by unexpectedly in the middle of the day when he knew she was at work.

“I found them on my bed, he was wearing my nightgown and underwear. I might have thought that he was cheating on me with some other woman, but with another man? That was a total shock; I never had any doubts,” Lamia said.

“My husband was gay and I didn’t have a clue. He was just a normal man,” she said.

Both men ran towards her, gave her a beating that left her with a broken arm and rib and bruises on her face and threatened to kill her if she comes back. Later she learned her husband told the neighbors that he caught her with another man. “I understand that he was ashamed and would do anything to hide the truth…but I don’t understand him being this cruel to me after being an adorable husband,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“When the neighbors found me all beaten up on the front door they took me to the hospital, I was unconscious for a while and when I woke up the nurse took my hand, smiled a very sweet smile and said, ‘don’t worry your baby is fine. It survived all this, he or she must be a super hero.’ I stared at her and didn’t know if I was awake or dreaming, three doctors said that he can’t make me pregnant and we didn’t try any treatments as we couldn’t afford it. What am I going to do now? I have nowhere to stay, my source of living wouldn’t be enough to raise a kid and I want this child to be better than I am,” she said.

With a baby in her near future and her neighborhood and even mother rejecting her for the rumors of her cheating, Lamia took off looking for a place to live.

“I ended up in Giza in a rooftop bedroom that a kind old man offered me for no money until my crops grow because he took pity on me; he even stayed with my baby later so I can go to work,” she said.

A year after she delivered it was impossible to support her little girl on her tiny income and couldn’t find a job.

“I always knew I had an aunt we never spoke to because she was a belly dancer. My mom saw her as a disgrace and never talked about her, even though she tried reaching out to us a couple of times,” said Lamia. Her aunt had once visited her in school and gave her a toy and her number. “I kind of memorized her number, as if knowing I will need it one day,” Lamia said.

Lamia called her aunt and hung up a few times before she gathered the strength to speak. “I didn’t know what I was going to say. I was so ashamed of my story and haven’t said it out loud since it happened. But she was very kind and invited me over to her house. We bonded just fine and then I told her I needed work. She said ‘I don’t know anywhere but the cabaret (nightclub). It’s a tough world but it’s not that bad if you know how to stand up for yourself, plus I will be here to protect you. We need a waitress and a maid.’ It was either this or prostitution at this point; if I wanted to raise a proper human being, honestly, I would do anything for my little girl,” Lamia said.

When she went to the nightclub for the first time she found out they were looking for a new belly dancer and wanted to try but she had concerns about the job, what it would mean for her little girl, what she would tell her when she is older and what her future suitors would think. But no moment is more important than now. “I had to do something as I was going crazy. At least this way she will get older, otherwise the bugs will eat her alive in this hell whole we were living in. At least I will be able to buy her diapers rather than waking up at 5am to find the flies feeding on her poop. I will be able to take her to the doctor rather than play a guessing game when she is sick. My head was filled with voices and I just needed a push in some direction,” she said.

“I went into the cabaret and saw the gloomy, smoky, dark feel the place had. I walked around and something pulled me in to the place. I felt like the cabaret resembled my life somehow; smoky, dark and gloomy. Then an old man appeared from behind a curtain and came to me. He stared into my eyes and then walked around me like a street dog trying to smell you. ‘You could be a star. Underneath all that, you could be a star,’ he said. I laughed thinking he knows nothing, a star? I am the furthest thing from a star. He signaled me to follow him and I willingly did. He gave me a galabeya, (long dress) kind of what the ghazia (folkloric belly dancer) wears and told me that my aunt sent them to me. He told me, ‘You will find what you need in the bathroom.’ I didn’t know my aunt wanted me to audition. But I was on board,” she said.

“I went in took a shower, shaved with a dirty razor I found and wore the dress he gave me. God, that was my first proper shower in over two years. I felt the water on my head and body as if I was being transformed into another world. I put some powder and lipstick; I didn’t even know how to apply eyeliner. The dancing dress wasn’t revealing, I felt like my aunt knew that I would be a little shy. My aunt and the old man were siting in front of the stage and the old man turned on the music and told me, ‘Show me what you’ve got.’ I mumbled a lot but no one was listening. I stood still for a while but then the music kicked in and I just gave myself away to the music and I danced my life out on that stage, like I was dancing for the life of my little girl. I did nothing provocative or anything; I danced like a lady, and to my surprise I felt no shame. After I finished the dance I stormed into a deep cry and found myself being hugged by my aunt. She knew exactly what to say to ease the pain,” she smiled.

She explained bluntly to the manager that she wasn’t going to do any ‘extra activities’ that would make her girl ashamed of her. “I decided to keep a cover to protect myself and the little girl from society. But then again where was this society when I needed anyone? I would leave home wearing a Niqab (face veil) and I lived three hours away even though the manager offered to rent me an apartment nearby, but being far from it all gave me some space. People at my neighborhood thought I was a nurse; it was the only job I could think of that had odd hours. I made it a rule that we would move from the neighborhood every few years so no one would suspect anything. Now my daughter is 14 and I can afford to rent a small apartment in Maadi and send her to a private school that costs over LE10,000 a year. I can buy her everything she needs,” Lamia says.

“My daughter is my best friend, and the working hours are very convenient to her as I work while she is asleep, come back, prepare her breakfast and kiss her goodbye before she goes to school. Then I would sleep about five hours, wake up and wait for her to come back. Even though we are very close and I told her everything that happened with her father, except the being gay part, I still think she sometimes doubts that I work as a nurse. A couple of times, I was so tired after a night at the cabaret that I forgot to remove my make up, and I normally never wear any make up. I told her that some nurses just decided to make me pretty for the day. But I know she suspects something is wrong; we keep moving, I can’t give an injection, my shifts are always at night, I never have any friends over and even when I talk on the phone its very brief and no nurse makes this much money. I know she is scared to ask and I am not ready to answer either. One day when I was kissing her goodnight, I told her, ‘I want you to know that your mom never did anything to shame you. I do my best to give you the best life I can offer.’ She just smiled and didn’t reply. I just want her to know I am good person, because I am,” Lamia said.

When Lamia started making good money, she decided to learn how to read and write and she knows some English now; she even read all of Naguib Mahfouz’s books.

“I never accepted any glamorous gifts, money, or anything in return for any extra activities,” she said. “I was once nearly raped by a Saudi man who I refused to sleep with. He kept coming back every night with a new offer and I always declined. And then he figured out my Niqab routine and waited for me outside, pulled me into the car, but I was able to kick him between his legs and run away. I went home bruised and my lips were swollen and bleeding, and I had to tell my daughter yet another lie. Men are usually bastards, they try to get what they want and expect all dancers to be cheap. I won’t sell myself for extra money, but then again I don’t know the conditions of the ladies who do….But I never slept with a man other than my husband, who is technically and legally still my husband.”

“I am scared that one day my daughter will want to see her father, and this will be a whole new chapter of horrors. I haven’t even told him I was pregnant,” she said with despair.

“I know the day will come when my daughter will know, or may be she already does. But I had no other choice, and I enjoy dancing and don’t feel anything wrong with it. I know God is out there, but I don’t think he cares this much about me, I feel like I am invisible to him. And I am not really sure what he would think about my dancing. Sheikhs can say all they want. They never walked in my shoe,” she concluded.

Read more from our series of Stories of Women in Egypt:

Fatma the Maid

Fadya the Brotherhood Mother