Hidden Girl: The True Story of a Modern-Day Child Slave

by Hall, Shyima

  Now I can pick up a vibe from a person that lets me know right away whether this is a good person or someone who might hurt me in the end. This ability came in especially handy when I saw a man who worked at a store in the same mall where I worked. This guy was independent, cute, smart, and sexy, and he had a great vibe about him. Even without knowing him I felt he was safe. He looked to be several years older than I was and was a store manager, which let me know that his bosses thought he was a responsible person.

  Through an odd coincidence I realized the man’s name was Daniel Uquidez and that I knew his brother, who worked at the mall too. The mall was large, but many of the employees of the different stores were friendly with one another, so it was fairly easy for me to meet Daniel. After that I regularly found excuses to walk by his store and wave, or to stop in with a friend who wanted to buy something. When I’d see him in the courtyard, or on the way to or from the parking lot, we’d talk. I loved making him smile.

  I liked the fact that I had been introduced to Daniel in a professional setting. To him, I was the girl who worked in a nearby store. This was not the way most other people met or knew of me. Usually I was “the girl who used to be a slave” or “the girl who is always in the newspaper.” I was much more than that, and those old identities rubbed me the wrong way. I was glad that Daniel knew me first as someone else, before he discovered that older part of me.

  Our friendship developed slowly, and I liked that, too. The slow pace gave me time to think whether or not this was someone I wanted to spend more time with, or if I should keep our relationship light, friendly, and professional.

  After I met Daniel, I switched jobs and began working again at Godiva. This was late in 2010. I worked there only for a few months before that store closed and I found myself as a sales associate at Versace. This was during a time when jobs were hard to come by, and I felt fortunate to get the job, but I especially liked that I was still working at the mall where I could see Daniel regularly during the day. Additionally, after I learned the Versace product line, I found that I believed fully in it, which made it easy for me to generate sales.

  The days and weeks went by during which I learned more about Daniel. He was from a large, close Catholic family, and from casual conversation we seemed to have a lot of the same thoughts and feelings about the important things in life. We even both have asthma.

  But even with that, if Daniel had pushed me and asked me out right away, I might have felt too uncomfortable to agree. But he waited until we had known each other for a number of months, and when he did ask, I gave him a resounding yes.

  Daniel later told me he had been working up the courage to ask me out for some time. He saw me as a strong, independent woman, and he had grown up with many of those in his family. I am glad that he asked me out because he respected me. I think if more relationships began this way, there would be much less fighting and fewer divorces.

  Daniel knew how much I loved baseball, and in particular the Anaheim Angels, so he took me to a home game for our first date. Later I learned that he didn’t even like baseball that much, but it was important to him that we do something I liked. That was when I knew he was a keeper.

  In the days following the game, we went to three movies in three days. After that we were pretty much inseparable. He knows how peaceful and healing I find the beach, and we went there a lot, even though we do not have a beach anywhere close to where we live. Huntington Beach is several hours away in good traffic, but we like it because it is clean and nice, and not too crowded. Also, the stores and restaurants near there stay open later than at some of the other beaches. We also went to Santa Monica some nights to hear the bands play along the water. Dancing and eating at restaurants that were new to us were activities we often did closer to home. We even went to Disneyland.

  Since the day when I’d gone to Disneyland with The Mom and The Dad and the twins, I had been there several times. I had gone with my foster families, and the first time I went after being rescued, it was weird. I had flashes of standing to the side with the boys’ backpacks while they enjoyed the rides. But I had no thoughts like that with Daniel. In a reminder of how far I had come, life felt so natural with Daniel that I was able to let the bad things that had happened to me stay in my past.

  There was another way that Daniel was different from other boys I had dated—in how we fought. Like many other couples we had several stupid fights. The fights were so stupid, in fact, that I have forgotten what they were about. When we argued the first time, my initial reaction was to think, He’s just another of those guys. Good-bye! But I thought that for only a fleeting instant with Daniel, because my second reaction was to think, He’s not like the Muslim men who mistreated me. And he wasn’t.

  Through those fights I realized that I not only liked Daniel, but I liked him with me, and I liked me with him. We were a good fit.

  • • •

  From Daniel, to Amber, Teresa, Karla, and PaNou Thao (another amazing woman I met at work who became a dear friend), by the time I was twenty-one, I had surrounded myself with strong, reliable, responsible, caring, fun friends. These people had become my inner circle, and I felt like a treasured member of each of their families when I spent Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter holidays with them. Some holidays I had a great many invitations and had to split the day into three or four parts just so I could see everyone. I have come to feel that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have each of these people in my life. Together my friends are far better than a biological family because my friends are here because they want to be. With some bio families they are family only because they have to be.

  All of my friends have such a positive attitude about life that I love to be around them. I did not initially seek out people with these qualities, but early on I must have known subconsciously that I needed them.

  During my time in bondage, and after, I had a lot of time to think about people. I realized that if you are around bad, negative people, that is what you become. The Mom and The Dad both felt entitled. They thought they were better than everyone else, and because of that they thought they must deserve better treatment. Their kids felt the same way. The Mom and the Dad also had bad tempers, as did their children. And they had the childish reaction to slap someone if they became angry. Who wants to be around negative people like that?

  In high school I saw people pulled downward by “friends” who were always in trouble. I saw people become the company they kept and lose out on many good opportunities that came their way because of it, such as college and good-paying jobs. But I saw the other end of the spectrum too. I saw the respect that Mark and his coworkers had for one another, and I saw the friendships that developed out of that respect. My own friends showed me through their actions over a long period of time that they were loyal and trustworthy. We didn’t always agree, but when we disagreed, we did it respectfully.

  Now I know that if I want to live and work in a fabulous environment, if I want to continue to learn and grow in life to become a better person, I have to surround myself with positive people who support me in my goals.

  I know many people who are full of shades of gray. These people can deliberate and debate a decision for weeks and never move forward. Those people walk between the lines of good and bad and never find either. That is not me. I am a black-and-white person who has found that most often there are only two courses of direction. Right and wrong. Good and bad. When you think about it, the good and right direction is always pretty clear. That good and right way, however, is not always the easy way, and that is the downfall of many people.

  After I came to the United States, I figured out that The Mom and The Dad knew it was not right that I was in their household in the capacity that I was. They knew, because I was forbidden to answer the door or the phone. When non-Muslim guests came over, I had to hide in the pantry. The right and good thing would have been to send me back to my family, or to turn me over to social services. But they made the selfish choice
to keep me there, hidden away, and that was wrong.

  Their wrong choice not only sent them to prison, but their children were deported back to Egypt. Their wrong choice broke up their family unit. Through Mark and through newspaper reports, I heard that The Mom was deported after her prison term was completed in 2008. I heard too that she has another young girl in her home in Egypt who does not go to school, and who is rarely seen outside. The practice of child slavery is illegal in Egypt, but because it is widely accepted, The Mom must not feel that she is at any risk of legal action for it there.

  Mark told me that somewhere along the way The Mom and The Dad divorced, but apparently it was dangerous for The Dad to go back to Egypt. Whatever he had done there must have been quite bad. Another wrong choice. He remarried here in the United States to a US citizen. This was soon after his divorce and his release from prison in 2009. If The Dad is married to a United States citizen and stays out of trouble here, he can remain on US soil. Sometime after The Dad’s remarriage, an immigration judge ruled that The Dad was deportable, but then the judge said he did not have to leave. After the judge’s ruling, Immigration and Customs Enforcement released The Dad from their custody but put him under an order of supervision, which means he has to check in with them regularly.

  I have also learned through Mark and my legal team that as soon as he could, The Dad sold the house that I lived in when I was being held captive. I was told he may have done that so he would not have to give me the house. His lawyers must have thought that was a possible outcome of any future trial or settlement hearing, because he sold the house in record time. I am sure that particular wrong choice will come back to bite him somewhere down the line too.

  Each of these decisions that The Dad made moved not just him but his entire family toward the line of disintegration. He could easily have been a kinder man, a more compassionate man who made good choices and lived an honest life. But he wasn’t. And he didn’t. I knew I did not want to be around anyone who made decisions as he did. That’s why everyone who is now allowed into my life must choose right and good. In the long run it is the easiest choice.

  I have been asked several times if I have any fear because The Dad is still in the United States. My answer is no. I have absolutely no desire to ever lay eyes on that man again, and I imagine he wants to put his conviction here behind him and just live his life.

  Plus, I am no longer the weak child who lived in his home. I am a strong woman now, and he holds no threat for me. And because he has served his time for what he did to me, I hold no threat to him. The United States, I have found, is a big country. While I’d rather he not be here, there is room for us both.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The year 2011 was special for me. This was the year when I could finally become a citizen of the United States of America. The process, I learned, is called naturalization.

  Becoming a citizen of the United States takes a lot of paperwork. I first had to fill out a ten-page application that included questions about my place of residence, education, employment, any marriages I might have had, travel outside the United States, and organizations I was affiliated with. Then there were questions about my moral character, and whether I drank, gambled, or used drugs. There was even a place for me to change my name, if I wanted to. I had already done that when I’d been adopted and didn’t feel the need to do it again, so I left that space blank.

  The most important questions, though, were those that asked if I supported our Constitution and form of government in the United States. I had to check off boxes that said that I not only understood the full Oath of Allegiance to the United States of America, but that I was willing to make it. Yes, I absolutely did and was. The oath says:

  I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the armed forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

  I couldn’t wait to stand up in front of a judge and say those words, because I feel fortunate to be here in the United States. I could have ended up anywhere. When The Mom and The Dad realized they had to leave Egypt before something bad happened to The Dad, he could have chosen to go to almost any country. He chose the United States, and I have to say that it was probably one of the few good choices that man ever made.

  Before I could send my naturalization application in, I had to go to a local Walgreens to have my passport photos taken. I was giddy with excitement as the photographer clicked my image into her camera.

  I then had to submit a number of supporting papers, such as copies of my tax records and green card. And I had to go in to be fingerprinted. I had prints on file with my local police department through the Police Explorer Program, but I guess the federal government needed their own set.

  To help me with the naturalization process, I found an immigration lawyer through Andrew Kline, one of the lawyers who had helped me with the case against The Mom and The Dad. Andrew referred me to the Seyfarth Shaw legal practice, which specializes in immigration issues. Angelo Paparelli was my lawyer there, but I also worked with another of their attorneys, Elizabeth Wheeler. I knew her as Liz.

  All in all, the process was lengthy, and the packet I finally turned in was quite extensive. Then I waited. And waited. I was nervous and bit my fingernails down to stubs. After about a month I learned that I had to appear for an interview and a test. Thank goodness the date was some weeks in the future, as it gave me time to study like crazy.

  The United States Citizenship and Immigration Services gave me a booklet to read and a CD to listen to, and I listened to that CD every day in my car as I drove to and from work. Then, at work, I studied during my breaks. I am glad that my friends and coworkers were behind me all the way. They helped me study by asking me questions from the booklet. There were a hundred questions total. Only ten of them would be asked during my citizenship test, but I did not know which ten would be asked, so I was determined to learn the answers to all one hundred.

  The help of my friends was important to me because when it comes to studying, my memory is not good. While someone else might read something once and memorize it right away, I have to go over and over and over it before it sticks. I believe this is another residual effect of my impoverished time in Egypt and my time in slavery. My brain did not have the opportunity to be educated during my early years, when the brain is most ready to learn. My brain instead learned survival tactics, which are important too. But to function best in society today, people need to learn how to study. People need to learn how to learn.

  Because studying is hard for me, I was relieved to see that some of the questions on the naturalization test were pretty basic, such as, “Who was our first president?” George Washington. “Where is the capitol of our country located?” Washington, DC. “On what day do we celebrate our independence?” July 4th. But some of the questions were much tougher. I had to know how many senators we had. One hundred. Who was president during the Great Depression? Franklin Roosevelt. What do we call the first ten amendments to the Constitution? The Bill of Rights. If both the president and the vice president can no longer serve, who becomes president? The Speaker of the House.

  My friends were amazed that I had to learn all that I did, because they didn’t know the answers to many of the questions themselves. If you’d like to have some fun, you can go to the US Citizenship and Immigration Services website and look at the naturalization test to see how many of the ques
tions you know the answers to.

  One of the questions, though, I knew the answer to inside and out. I had learned it in a history class, and it had stuck with me. The question was: Name a major cause of the Civil War. Slavery. Slavery was a major cause of the American Civil War. I would never forget that, because through that war an end to legalized slavery happened. The Civil War was what had given the United States government legal grounds to rescue me. No, I was not going to miss getting the correct answer to that question!

  Another factor of the test had to do with writing. I had become fluent in spoken English, but written English could still pose a challenge. I was glad to learn that most of the test would be oral.

  • • •

  On the day I had my citizenship interview and test, I got into my car and promptly took the wrong freeway. I was going to meet Liz at a government office in Riverside, California, which wasn’t that far away. I had been to Riverside countless times, so it is a testament to how nervous I was that I got lost.

  Fortunately, I called Liz several times to tell her where I was, and she helped direct me to the right road and the correct building. Getting lost did nothing to calm my nerves. First, the letter I’d gotten that gave me information about my appointment was clear that I should arrive at least fifteen minutes ahead of time. Not only was that not going to happen, but I was going to be at least fifteen minutes late. That in itself was grounds for the appointment to be canceled.

  If the appointment were canceled, I would be devastated. I had hoped and dreamed for years about becoming a US citizen, and now here I was fighting off tears as I frantically drove through downtown Riverside. My stomach was in knots and I had trouble catching my breath. My asthma can be stress induced, and I hoped I would not have a major asthma episode before I arrived.