I never imagined that my life would end up behind the doors of an asylum , where pain turns into shackles and difference becomes an unspoken crime .
It was not illness that brought me there , but the fact that I was different — outside the picture society wanted me to fit into .
All I wanted was the right to live as myself , to be who I am without fear or disguise .
But instead of understanding , I found rejection , stigma , and isolation .
Step by step , I became trapped : by my family , by society , and by an entire system that prefers to imprison the different in institutions rather than extend a hand of compassion .
What made it even more painful was that it was my own family — who had already abandoned me long ago — who delivered me into this hell. They conspired with the asylum to have me abducted in broad daylight : they stopped me in the street , forced me into a car , injected me with something that paralyzed my ability to resist, and delivered me to the institution where I was tied to a bed with ropes and straps .
I spent more than a full year imprisoned there , stripped of my freedom and my life . I endured physical abuse such as being forced to have my head shaved in order to humiliate me . I was subjected to constant verbal abuse , degrading insults , and daily discrimination . It did not stop there — I was sexually harassed multiple times by those who were supposed to be “treating” me . I was also forced to take psychiatric medications I did not even know the names of , and hormonal drugs as well , as if my body did not belong to me .
Had I not managed to escape , I would still be there today , condemned to spend the rest of my life imprisoned in a place they call an “asylum” but which in truth is nothing more than a prison for people who are different .
When I finally escaped , I was a broken person — more shattered than ever , without a home , without support , without safety .
And my escape was not the end of suffering , but the beginning of another struggle . I now live without legal identity documents that recognize me as who I am . I cannot rent a house in my name , I cannot secure a stable job , not even own a legal phone line . My life has become a series of daily obstacles , reminding me constantly that I am a stranger in my own country.
Still , I did not surrender . I decided to file a lawsuit against the asylum and against all those who conspired to imprison me there , including members of my own family . For more than a year , I battled the endless delays of the Egyptian justice system . And in the end , the prosecutor’s office refused to escalate my case to court and dismissed it entirely . It was another shock — as if they were telling me that justice itself was just an illusion .
I lost my job , I lost my relationships , I lost faith that this world has room for people like me . And yet, there is one thing I have not lost : my belief that my story must be told . Because silence means that others will continue to suffer in the dark , while society buries the different under the word “treatment,” when in truth it is simply another form of imprisonment.
I write my story not to complain , but to say that we exist . We are human beings , with emotions and dreams . We do not need an asylum — we need a more humane society . Perhaps I have lost much, but I hope that my voice can be the beginning of a new awareness, even if it is small .
