Emma

Trying to escape fundamentalist religion from a young age, a German-Turkish woman named Amira fights her way not just to freedom but also to motherhood. It's the moment when Amira finds herself in a women's shelter in San Francisco, California, with her 9-month-old baby that her life changes forever.

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National Domestic Violence Hotline

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Transcript

This text may not be distributed or published online without documented or written permission from Shadow Clock Podcast. Transcripts are generated using a combination of human beings and AI software (i.e., speech recognition) and therefore may contain errors. Please reference the corresponding audio before quoting in print. Special thanks to Cindy Mahalic Higgerson, Spencer Masternak, Bruce Scivally, and Alec Jansen for making these transcriptions possible.

START OF EPISODE

Katie Mahalic (narrating):

This episode was conducted in-person and online, and the majority of the names have been changed to respect the privacy of our guest. We also want to mention that this episode contains graphic descriptions of emotional, physical and sexual abuse, as well as references to suicide. Please use discretion.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

When Emma was born, where were you living?

Amira:

I was living basically in the car. Emma's bed was a $5.99 plus tax laundry basket from Target. That's so bad. If you would see me on the streets, you would never think like- you know, I'm homeless. Nobody knew I was homeless. Just the people at Starbucks knew I was homeless or at Denny's Diner because, because, cuz I was there every night. I would just buy something to drink, you know, and they would give us sometimes food, like, you know, like the the pastry they were not allowed to sell the next day or whatever. I would just get like the leftover stuff. But I mean, what is a woman doing with an infant like, in a coffee shop? You know, I mean - like every other night sometimes.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Can you pinpoint the moment it all changed?

Amira:

Yeah, the moment I moved into the shelter. The moment I moved into the shelter, that was the moment I was getting more resourceful. I was -  It was the first time mentally, I didn't have to be afraid. I’m gonna be - I could sleep at night. From then on, everything changed for me.

Katie (narrating):

I'm speaking with the past student of mine named Amira, whose name we've changed, along with the other names of people mentioned in this episode. A few times during the semester, Amira asked if she could bring her six year old daughter, Emma, to my class. To say Emma was behaved would be an understatement, considering only once did I have to ask her to be quiet during my three hour lectures. When I commented to Amira about how impressed I was with Emma’s behavior, she said very matter of factly that Emma was always just a really good baby -even when they were homeless. 

Prior to meeting with the Amira, I had assumed the majority of our conversations would be about what it was like to raise a child while living on the streets of San Francisco. I hadn't prepared myself for the complexity of who Amira was, the trials she had endured in her past, a past which can be credited, at least in part, as to why she ended up on the streets, while equally being the very reason she had the skills to survive homelessness at all.

Katie:

I'm Katie Mahalic and you're listening to “Shadow Clock.”

Katie:

To really understand Amira, you have to start at the very beginning. I mean the very beginning - a time before she was born. We have to start with her mother, Sara, and her father, Malik, as well as introduce you to Amira’s namesake, her older sister, who had the name Amira first. Amira’s parents grew up in Turkey, and it was there that her mother, who was Jewish, married her father, who was Muslim, and both families were against the marriage from the start.

But for Sara's family, it wasn't just the religious differences they were upset about, but social class as well. Sara and Malik got married anyway, and Sara converted to Islam on behalf of her husband. Shortly after the marriage, they moved to Germany to work in a guest worker program that was part of Germany's reconstruction process after World War II. It was in Germany, they had their first child. They named her Amira.

Amira:

I had a sister. She was the first born of my parents, and her name was Amira. And she died when she was ten months old.

Katie:

After the death of their daughter, Sara and Malik tried again. And this time they had a boy, Aslan. And then two years after Aslan came, Amira, our Amira in this story. From the moment she was born, things were difficult for Amira, even just to be named.

Amira:

My grandpa died in Turkey and my parents went down there and they were in a car accident and so I was born early. My dad wanted the name Amira to live on and my mom was against it. She said she doesn't want to use the name again. This was from her first child, her dead child.

Katie:

But it didn't matter. Amira's father went ahead with the name. And in the meantime, there was another problem. Amira was too weak to go home from the hospital, and the stress of having another baby who might die was too much for Amira’s mother to deal with.

Amira:

She didn't want to see again, like losing a child. So then she left me in the hospital.

Katie:

Amira's parents went back to Germany, relinquishing their responsibility to Amira's mother's parents. After three months in the hospital Amira finally was sent home with their grandparents.

Amira:

My grandparents gave me the name Imnesha. It means happiness. And so I guess they were happy to have me that I was able to stay with them.

Katie:

When Sara and Malik did visit, Amira was always told the truth about who they were. But the meaning of who they were really didn't sink in.

Amira:

Like, they were like just man and woman… I knew.. I saw when they came to Turkey to visit, but I felt like they were like aunt and uncle. That's about it. So, you know, and and I lived with my grandparents until I was almost six.

Katie:

One day, Amira was told she would be going to live in Germany to start school. There, she would be living with her parents, her brother, a sister, Leila, who was now three years old and very soon a new baby brother, Mikael, who would be born about nine months after Amira came to live with her new family.

Amira:

So in January ’79, I moved to Germany… and here I am, I don't speak the language. I don't have my name anymore. The name like, you know, I was called my whole life until I moved to Germany… and then here I am living with like my older brother and total strangers.

Katie:

Amira was forced to leave behind not just the only parents she had ever known, but also her name and seemingly everything that was associated with its meaning of happiness. From the start, the move was hard, starting with her name being changed back to Amira, a name she was never able to live up to in the eyes of her mother.

Amira:

And she, still to this day, she always compares me to that dead child… that I am like, a disgrace to that name because I am not good. If she would be alive, she would be better. The only time I can say like I had a happy childhood was with my grandparents. The day I moved to Germany until I passed 18- like, I was abused, like you know, physically abused by my dad.

And my da- mom would encourage it.

Katie:

It was while listening to Amira tell one horrific story after another, she suddenly paused and asked me if I knew what okra was.

Amira:

You know okra, right? 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

The food? 

Amira:

Yeah. To this day, I cannot eat okra. I can’t even see- look at okra-

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Because of the smell or taste?

Amira:

No- I just like - like just the memories come back to me. You know? That was a food I hated to eat, but my dad would always make me to eat until I would just like, gag and throw up. When I would not eat, he would just put me in, in the cellar like, you know, in the basement, in the dark. And then -

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

As a little six year old.

Amira:

Yes. And then he would make me to eat it and then I would throw up and then he would make me to eat my - my barf. So, yeah… and I don't know… yeah - I don't even recall my parents saying once in their life like, we love you, you know? So… and as a kid, you know that. And I would always say, like, I was crying… I wanted to go back to my grandparents. There was no love in this family.

Katie (narrating):

Amira's childhood was filled with different abuses that she and her siblings endured. However, Amira barred the brunt of most of it for two main reasons. One: she fought back, whereas her other siblings did not. Two: the boys were favored over the girls, she and her sister Layla.

Amira:

For example, we were not even allowed to eat with them. My sister and I, we had to alway eat in the kitchen. And we had to always serve them and help them, but you know, we were not allowed to have meals with them. So we always, but you know what - we loved that because we didn’t want to be sitting with them anyway. For us, it was great!

Katie:

Over the years, Amira continued to fight and tried several times to run away. Finally, Amira and her sister Leila were sent to a boarding school that happened to be Catholic, which interestingly added yet a third religious background to Amira’s upbringing. And much like at home, Amira was always in trouble at school, defiant and sure to stand up for what she believed was right.

Amira:

The boarding school was very strict. Like if you didn't show up for your meals - uh or come late for like the lunch, they - that- that was it - there was no food. So, then I would break into the kitchen in the school to steal the food. I mean… yeah… if you’re hungry, man, what are you going to do? They made you basically steal the food.

Being in the church at the chapel all the time, and I'm like look, you know - I mean - I'm not doing this. I would always feel bad for Jesus hanging there, like suffering. And in the bedroom, I would just take the cross on the wall and hide it and stuff, in the room. I didn't want that thing in my room, you know, Why is he looking at me while I'm sleeping, you know, and stuff like that, you know, and stuff like this I would get in trouble. So I would always speak openly about, like, what I was thinking.

Katie:

And she did without fail or remorse. When told to sing Germany's national anthem, she said:

Amira:

No- I’m not singing that. I'm not singing it. You know, look what you did in the Holocaust. And here I am - I’m going to sing for Germany, Germany?

Katie:

Or when she was told the meat on her plate wasn't pork, a meat that isn't eaten by Jews or Muslims…

Amira:

And I said, no this is pork. They're like, “No, no, no! This is beef - it’s beef.” I'm like look, it’s the same like - like my friend’s food, you know the other student’s food. And they’re like “No, no, no!” And I'm like, I just throw it out the window. Stuff like that I would do. I was like 13-14, you know? And so - so stuff like this - I would get in trouble.

Katie:

I imagined Amira trucking a plate of pork out the cafeteria window. And to be honest, I could totally see it. Amira was an excellent student. One of my best. But what made her a strong student were the same qualities she was describing in herself as a teenager: outspoken, direct and determined.

Amira:

I would go home on the weekends or on the - on the vacation when the school was closed and there was always beating going on somehow, because I wasn't obeying, you know. I would just like, and then I'm thinking, like, why did I even come home? But then they would show up. They they, they would, be - at the Friday at 2:00, when it was dismissal. They would be there. I had to go basically with them - home. 

The verbally was the worst, like calling out names and cursing and all this. So, you know, and I saw like my brothers - how much freedom they had. It was okay for my brother to have a girlfriend, but it was not even okay for me to just to talk to a boy without being, like called out names or, you know, like the worst names you can call - you whore, you bitch…

You know, like you're dishonoring our family and you're not a virgin. And it came to the point he even took me to the hospital to make sure, I’m still like, a virgin. Then - then- they had to- you know look at you and they had to give my dad you know - like  “She’s okay.” You know, and I felt like, you know, I'm sitting there. I'm kind of like…

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

How degrading.

Amira:

It is degrading. That's what I told you. I hated being a woman. And that's what I'm saying. Like growing up, I always wanted to be a boy and I had short hair. So, you know, I was always wearing baggy clothes. So, you know, just to look like a boy. But it doesn't mean like, you know, like I feel like, you know, like I wanted to change my sex.

There's nothing to do with, like, changing sex or gender identity. It was more like I wanted to be treated as a man to get everything what like -this culture was giving the man - and I was not. I didn't have the privilege for that. And that's what I was always fighting for that, you know, I am more than being a virgin.

Katie:

This pressure of being a virgin was not something that Amira was facing alone. There are extensive reports of the plight of young Turkish German girls and the expectation that they must remain virtuous until married. And as the girls got older, Malik's paranoia only worsened as relatives pressured him to do something about his daughter's obvious turn toward Western culture.

Amira:

My dad was always threatening us that he will not let me live at the boarding school. It cost too much money, and also because I was getting more like westernized for him. He felt like, I’m becoming like more like a German girl.

Katie:

It was in the spring of ’89 when one of Malik's sisters invited Amira and Leila to a coffee shop in town. The girls agreed to meet, and while there, the aunt suggested they visit a family friend who lived nearby. They were told the friend was also a psychic, a mostly unimportant but intriguing detail. At this friend's home the girls were offered Coca-Cola, and oddly enough, especially in the context of Islam, whiskey. Amira said she does remember thinking that was weird.

Amira:

And here we are like, I'm like 15 and my sister's 12. They're giving us whiskey to drink and they were insisting it's good for your heart.

Katie:

She also remembers the coke tasting funny.

Amira:

The taste of the coke, it was like like very bitter. It was not the taste of a Coke. And I - I knew - okay -something is not right.

Katie:

Amira didn't know it then, but she would find out later that on top of giving them whiskey, the women had put sleeping pills in their drinks. A short time later, the sisters were told they were going to a restaurant and they needed to get into the car.

Amira:

My sister, they had to drag her into the car because she couldn't even walk and I was just still drunk from all the stuff they gave us. But I was still, like, focused. I was still like, able to see what's happening.

Katie:

As the four of them drove, it did not take Amira long to realize that they were not going to a restaurant. Slowly, the town faded behind them as they drove out into the countryside.

Amira:

And then suddenly we ended up in the forest. And then, I see my dad's car and then I'm like, oh my god! Then I knew it, that something so bad was happening.

Katie:

Amira and her sister were transferred to her father's car. Inside was her father's cousin and her youngest brother, Mikael, who was nine at the time. Their aunt came along as well.

Amira:

So I’m with my sister, my aunt and my little brother in the backseats and I couldn't get out because my dad locked the doors automatically.

Katie:

Malik told his daughters he didn't want them in the boarding school anymore - that they were becoming too westernized, so he was taking them to live with their aunt, the aunt who was riding in the back seat with the girls. But this didn't make sense to Amira. Her aunt lived in Mainz, a town in the north of Germany, and the road signs Amira was seeing indicated they were driving south or southeast.

And then she saw it - a sign for Bregenz - the border town between Austria and Germany. It was then that Amira knew, they were taking she and her sister into Turkey. As the car approached the border, Amira knew she had to get help. She waited until the car was through the German side of the checkpoint, and into Austria before she made her move.

Amira:

And I was able to open the door. I just remember I was just running and then I could just hear like the scre- you know the - you know the the police screaming like, “Halt the boy! Halt the boy!” They didn't know what's happening.

Katie:

The custom agent ran after Amira, who they’d mistaken to be a boy with her short hair and baggy clothes.

Amira:

They stopped me and I just said like, ‘Yeah -my dad is kidnaping us.’ (tears up) Yeah, so, and um -  they arrested my dad. They left everyone go - but my dad.

Katie:

The police interviewed the girls and pushed Amira to file a report. But she was afraid, not just of her father, but of her entire family.

Amira:

I was afraid they will kill us. They would kill us. If I do this, then I'm dead.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Did your mother know?

Amira:

She, she tells me she did not know. She tells me she did not know. And then I'm thinking like, how could you not know? She still, to this day, insists she did not know that was happening.

Katie:

I'm going to step here for a moment and break down what exactly was happening and why Amira and her sister were being taken to Turkey in the first place. But in order to do that, I need to give you a broader background into the societal constraints of conservative Turkish German culture, something I knew little about until I started researching Amira and Leila’s story.

I also want to clarify that the abuses we're about to discuss do not represent what true Islam is. Just as when reading about sexual abuse in the Catholic Church or Cool-Aid drinking followers of Christ in evangelical sects, it's important to keep in mind that such horrific actions don't define the religious institutions and constructs they are unfortunately representing. We’re talking about fundamental extremism.

I say all this as I do not want Amira’s story to be taken out of context, to be used as ammunition in perpetuating Islamophobia. However, I also want to make sure not to ignore the oppression many Turkish, German girls are facing within Germany's borders today. 

The sisters kidnaping received national attention in Germany when it all took place back in 1989. The German news magazine ‘Der Spiegel’ ran an article documenting the endemic abuse and killings of Turkish German girls and women in Germany. The article exposes numerous crimes committed by fathers as well as brothers, uncles, extended family, friends, and even by female relatives such as aunts and mothers, just like in Amira’s and Leila’s case, whose story was one of many the article referenced. 

According to the article, Amira's dad wanted to take his daughters to Turkey to marry them off for money. At the time the article was written, a German Turkish bride could bring in between $3,000 and $18,000. But when I asked Amira about being taken to Turkey to be married, this is where her viewpoint splits from the article. She was never convinced it was to be married off. Instead, she actually wonders if it was to be killed. 

To give you a fuller picture of the kind of systemic abuse Amira and her sister were up against I'm going to share with you a brief summary of a few other stories from the same article that the girls were featured in. I should warn you that what I'm about to share is graphic in regards to descriptions of violence as well as sexual and physical abuse. The article begins by talking about a 16-year-old Turkish German girl named Fadia, who was taken into the forest and shot in the head by her brother, who was acting on orders by their father. She was murdered because her parents didn't approve of her boyfriend. 

Another story, about a 16-year-old girl named Ramzia, was reported to have jumped out of a window. She was taken to a suicide prevention center where she explained she was afraid of her mother, who had forced her to have her vagina sewn shut when she was only nine years old. The reason? Because Ramzia had come home late from a shopping errand. Now a teenager, Ramzia, was afraid of what her mother might do to her as she was spending extra time out with friends. 

And then there were the documented reports of brides who were no longer a virgin and forced to undergo the process of having a gynecologist reconstruct their hymen, a painful procedure done shortly before the wedding, all to make sure the girl appears to be intact before the marriage is consummated. The article goes on to specify that Germany's own Islamophobia makes seeking help even more difficult for Turkish German girls, as they are already isolated by the prejudices against Muslims within German society. 

The reason I decided to summarize these aspects of the ‘Der Spiegel’ article is because it's only after reading them that I begun to fully understand the world Amira was living in, what exactly she was up against and how lucky she was to even be alive. 

After the kidnaping, the courts tried Amira's father and found him guilty only of child neglect. The boarding school Amira and her sister were attending was given custody of the girls for the next two years, and their parents were required to continue to pay for their education until they graduated. And that's exactly what Amira did. She graduated. 

After graduation, Amira decided to get her certification to teach kindergarten and preschool.

Amira:

I loved kids. All my life. I knew since I was six years old already, I want to work with kids. It was always my calling. They’re the most wonderful things, anyway. Like if you save one kid, you know, or one - one human being, you save the humankind, you know, like you do.

Katie:

I found that statement to be quite profound. The part about knowing since she was six that she wanted to work with kids and the way she felt about children needing to be saved. It made me think of the six year old Amira, all alone, forced to leave Turkey with no hope of anyone coming to save her from her new home, except herself.

And now, here she was again, all alone at just 18 years old, completely on her own. No family to turn to for support of any kind. But if you haven’t figured it out by now, Amira is strong and determined. After she finished her training to become a kindergarten and preschool teacher, she set out to experience a year abroad as an au pair.

Amira:

In Germany I was always two people - Turkish, Amira and then the German, Ammi. Ammi was my nickname they gave me at the boarding school. But when I came here, in the States, the first time in my life I was free. I was able to be who I am. I was sent to a family in Virginia, a single mom of three boys, ten, six and three. (Small laugh). I had the best time of my life.

Katie:

Amira not only loved her job, but she was also doing well supporting herself financially and making friends. At the end of her first year, she and a group of friends took a trip to San Francisco, and Amira completely fell in love with the city, so much so, that when her job assignment came to an end in Virginia, she went back to San Francisco to continue working as a nanny.

She worked hard and even harder to keep her working visa in good standing. When it would run out, she would go back to Germany and work any job she could find. And this back and forth went on for years until she met someone, an American man, and they got married. This man would be the first of several partners who would bring Amira back into the folds of abuse.

Amira:

I- I guess - that’s- I always fall for the bad guys, I guess, because it's something I knew about what men do to women. I for some reason, I tend to always think that I can help these people- to change them. You know - this is, I think - like - one thing that I - I  always had, like  relationship - that were abusive. And I'm telling you, verbal abuse is sometimes worse because this doesn't heal. If you get hit, the bruises go away. But the verbal abuse is in your head. It doesn't go away.

Katie:

But in true Amira fashion, she did eventually find her way out of her marriage, and so began the next chapter of her life. At age 34, she was self-reliant, single and full of energy. Remember, this is the early 2000’s, an era of techno, ecstasy and clubbing, and Amira loved all of it.

Amira:

To me, it was more escaping things going clubbing, taking a pill and to escape all my demons I was with, you know, and that kind of like, kept me alive too, I think… to having that kind of a group of people I was going out and clubbing with, and having just a good time and not worrying about nothing.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

It kept you alive-

Amira:

That kept me alive. That's how I see, too. You know, I was enjoying myself and forgetting about everything, you know, and, you know, and I was still working. I was still organized. I was doing my job. I was very responsible. I would never go high to my job. I was not doing that. You have no idea, like, who I did drugs with… I mean, doctors… oh - I’m not kidding you. Lawyers like - CEO - I'm not kidding you. Like, you know, start-up company, like Google people, but they go Monday through Friday to job - right? So I was- I was calling myself, I'm an "organized partier.”

Katie (narrating):

As Amira drifted through the club scene she eventually met someone, a British man named Steve. And once again, the pattern of abuse reared its ugly head, In this case, the abuse was verbal. And as we've heard Amira say before, that verbal abuse can sometimes be worse than the abuse that leaves the physical bruises.

Amira:

You know -this is crazy, right? This is like the only thing I am, I’m not able to break through, even though you try - they nice in the beginning, and then you fall for it and then you in it and then it's like -  it's no way you can get out, somehow.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira) Katie

Have you had any healthy relationships?

Amira:

No, I never had any. Even his mom told me, you know, you don't need to take this. His dad was the same. You know, like the yelling and all this - his temperament. And you know, you don't need that.

Katie (narrating):

Even with Steve's mom telling Amira, it wasn't worth it, Amira and Steve stayed together ten years. They both had jobs. They had a house they were renting… they had friends. They had a life together. Over the years, Amira contemplated leaving. But one thing that is tricky about verbal abuse is that it can be hard to identify because you can't see it.

There aren't physical marks for you to use as proof to convince yourself that what is happening is actually wrong. And like most abusers that hurt their partners both physically and verbally, Steve did have another side to him, a side that wasn't as ugly. They all do. If they didn't, nobody would be falling for them in the first place.

Abusers are good at letting that charming side sneak through every once in a while, just enough to give their partners a glimpse of hope that they can change and be that better side of themselves all the time. But in Amira's case, there was one more additional thing that kept her in this relationship.

Amira:

I always wanted kids, but then, I guess, I never get pregnant, you know…and then…

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

You never got pregnant?

Amira:

No.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

And how old were you at this point?

Amira:

Oh, in my - my thirties. So. Yeah. And then um, you know, I was almost 40 and I was getting old, and I just didn’t… and I knew if I just leave him now, I - who I am I gonna find that fast, who was willing to have a baby with me?

Katie (narrating):

And there it was. Amira wanted a baby. 

In the end, she never had to make that choice on whether to leave or stay. Not completely anyway. 

In 2008, the housing crash plummeted the U.S. economy, and Steve lost his job. Shortly after, in 2009, he was offered work back home in England and he decided to go… and Amira decided to stay…and without his income she had to let the house they were renting go too. For the first time, Amira was homeless. 

I would imagine many of us have begun to realize that homelessness has many faces, faces that don't match our previous preconceptions of what homelessness looks like, especially with the current housing crisis the U.S. has been facing even before the pandemic. In Amira's case, she was working.

She was always working… but she suddenly found herself in a city in which she couldn't afford. Remember, this is 2010 and between the “Dot Com Boom” in the first part of the century and the 2008 crash, the cost of living in the Bay Area was, simply put, not manageable anymore. Not unless you made a lot of money. Of course, she could have tried to move and start over somewhere else, but that takes resources.

To start over in a new city she would need money and a job. And she had a job here. She had money too, just not enough. She did consider moving back to Germany, but the idea of being back near family, near all the childhood traumas… she just couldn't face, going back permanently. And who could blame her? San Francisco had become her home. By this point in her life she'd been living here longer than she'd ever lived in Germany. And even though she didn't have family she could call for help, she did have a good network of friends here in the city. And so she decided to stick it out. She was able to couch surf and keep herself afloat until she found employment as a nanny that also came with room and board.

Amira:

I moved in with a woman named Sally who I was a nanny for. I was watching her 10-year-old kid. She was paying me, you know, 12 an hour… less than I was getting like somewhere else but it was live-in, so it was okay.

Katie:

It actually all seemed more than okay, as the work partnership started off strong. Sally and her son even accompanied Amira on a trip to Germany where Amira introduced them to one of her former teachers who had become a lifelong friend. For the next year and a half or so, things were pretty good, except for one thing.

Amira:

Before 40 I'm like, “Oh my god, oh my god!” Everyone left and right is having babies, and here I am, I could be the best mom and I'm not- I'm not getting pregnant.

Katie:

As time was going by, Amira could see her dream of becoming a mother slipping away.

Amira:

You know - and I'm like, yeah look - I do want to have a kid and they have these two options:  Either I go to a sperm bank, (laughs) you know, and I don’t know anything about this guy's past, they can tell you anything they want to tell you, what they-  they have a Ph.D. they have this -  they could be mental! Or I call Steve. I knew that people were against it…they like don’t do this with him, don't do it. You know, and I’m like - I said, you know, I knew it from the day one on in life I get pregnant, I'm going to be a single parent, and I signed up for that.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Did you tell them- if that - if you had a kid together, did you want him to be a part of her life or no?

Amira:

Uh yeah. I mean, you can be a part of his life - her life. That's great, you know, but I knew it, I’m not going to be living with him, you know. This- I would never move where he is - like the yelling and all this, his temperament - and I don't want this for my baby.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Okay, So you asked Steve if you could have sperm.

Amira:

Yes.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

And he said yes.

Amira:

Yes.

Katie (narrating):

Not only did he say yes, but he and Amira didn't even have to meet as he agreed to freeze his sperm before he moved to England in 2009. This meant, whenever Amira was ready, she could actively try to get pregnant. That's how much planning went into Amira, wanting and trying to have a child. Over the years, Amira had kept waiting for the right time, but the right time just never came.

Katie:

Finally, she thought, she better try before it was too late, and when she did try, it failed. The artificial insemination didn't work. Another year went by. Still employed with Sally, Amira decided to try again, but this time she called Steve and asked if he would meet her in Germany, where she could try in vitro for a quarter of the cost than it would cost in the United States.

Amira:

It worked out first time.

Katie:

Amira found out she was having a girl and right away she chose the name Emma.

Amira:

I- I was in- I was in heaven! It was like the most - it was like the best news I had in my life, you know, like, yes!  Yes! I'm going to be a mom! Yes! And everything was perfect, (laughs) you know? And I never felt like, sick or… nothing, I was still, like, working to the day I- I gave birth.

Katie:

Everything was going fine until just a few weeks before Amira was due.

Amira:

I had cramps and I told, Sally, if something happens to - to Emma, I already had the name for her. I knew it’s a girl. If something happens to Emma, I will kill myself. You know, like - you say things like this.

Katie:

Sally took Amira to the general hospital and Amira sat down while Sally checked her in.

Amira:

And I get, like, these people coming up to me, psychiatrists and all this. They're like, “Oh yeah, you know, your friend just told us you want to kill yourself.” And I'm like, “What?” And I'm like, “You know, I'm here to get an ultrasound and I’ve been sitting here for how long already?” And I'm like, “Look, don't you say this? Something goes wrong, “Oh - I just want to kill- I just want to die! You know, why would I want to kill myself?”  I said. You know, they locked me up 5150 while pregnant.

Katie:

For those of you who don't know what 5150 is, I'll let Amira explain.

Amira:

So if you tell me you are - you want to kill yourself, or you want to kill someone, they have the right to keep you for 72 hours. They put you in the psych ward. It's called 5150. So they kept me!

Katie:

The hospital kept Amira for a full 24 hours before they decided she wasn't a threat to herself or anyone else. The cramps ended up being nothing serious, just regular pregnancy discomfort that Amira hadn’t experience since her pregnancy had been so smooth up to this point. She called Sally to pick her up at the hospital and to Amira’s surprise yet again, Sally said no.

Without any money on her Amira grabbed a cab and told the driver she'd have to go into her apartment to get cash.

Amira:

As I walk into the apartment, I see her going through my stuff and I’m like, “What are you doing?” You know? And then… “Oh, nothing…” And I knew it. I - I  cannot be here. Maybe she planted something in my bags, some drugs or whatever, and I did not feel safe. I just had to get out (of) there.

Katie:

Amira says, looking back on it, Sally’s strange behavior wasn't as out of the blue as it may seem to us. She admits there had been some tensions surfacing between the two for some time. See, Amira’s relationship with Sally's son was good, but Sally's own relationship with her child was anything but.

Amira:

She never had a good relationship with that boy but, here I am, I had a very good relationship with him, you know. But then, when she was around, he would act out.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Do you think she was jealous of your relationship?

Amira:

Oh yeah, oh big time!

Katie:

To be honest, I've never been totally convinced that this was just about jealousy on Sally's part, though I do think that played a role in regards to how she was acting toward Amira. That being said, I couldn't help but think things got weird with Sally simply because she didn't want Amira working for her if she was going to have a baby of her own.

If my hunch is right, what’s really sad about this is that Amira is far from alone when facing this sort of situation. As of February 2022, nearly 1 in 4 women reported that they considered leaving their jobs due to a lack of reasonable accommodations or fear of discrimination during pregnancy. And 1 in 5 are documented to have experienced mistreatment in the workplace once pregnant.

And those statistics come from women who feel empowered enough to come forward. Think of all the women who pick up odd jobs here and there trying to get by, or low income parents working to provide for their families who can't risk coming forward for fear of losing their job. Regardless, whatever the reasons for Sally's behavior may have been, it was enough for Amira to know she couldn't stay.

Amira:

I felt safer staying in my car, then like staying with that woman.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

It's almost like, though it was just a friendship, it was still another cycle of abuse.

Amira: 

Yes…

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

It was almost like, 

Amira: 

Yeah. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

… the whole thing all over again. 

Amira:

Yeah. And she would start like - you know… uh… sh - it wasn't healthy. It wasn’t healthy at all, man.  But no, I knew it - it’s going to be okay. It’s - it will be always okay. I always find a way to make it okay.

Katie:

And if you haven't noticed by now, that is exactly what Amira does. She always finds a way to make the impossible work out. At nine months pregnant, she packed up what little things she had, put it all on her car and left. Her car would become her home for the next two years. 

I've had a lot of conversations with friends, acquaintances, and even strangers about how homelessness happens, and I've been really surprised to find out how many people feel that homelessness is a choice. 

To understand things better I reached out to Chris Richardson, the chief program officer of a Bay Area organization called the “Downtown Streets Team.” Their mission: to provide a pathway to recovery from homelessness while also restoring personal dignity and hope. I specifically asked Chris if he thought homelessness was a choice, and here's what he had to say.

Chris Richardson:

I've been doing this now for over 13 years, and very few people I talk to say I don't want housing. And what I've seen time and time again, people ask me, what's the number one cause? And it's a lack of a support network. And for most of us, that's family that when we fall down, when we need a little help, they're there to pick us up and we're talking about people who often don't have a leg up, right?  Or never had a leg up.

Katie:

It was like Chris was describing Amira without even knowing her.

Chris:

It- when you think about it, if someone's stably housed and they get laid off or they have a major event that they can't afford or something like that, they're not they don't move out that night onto the street. Right? They go through their the rest of their months least they might stay in a motel. They might stay with family, they might stay with friends.

And because the systems that are supposed to prevent homelessness can sometimes be overly bureaucratic, restrictive, and in many cases insufficient, especially considering other factors: shrinking middle class, lack of affordable housing, wages not keeping up with inflation, let alone housing prices, right? All those things. It- it becomes a slow descent into having to rely upon shelters and having to rely on - uh organizations like "Downtown Streets Team” for your most basic of needs.

Katie:

In Amira's case, she was doing the best she could to get those needs met on her own. She was still working a few other part time nanny jobs, and so she was bringing in some money. The problem was, like her job with Sally, those jobs didn't come with housing. And even if the money was enough to get a place on her own, there was one more problem.

Amira:

Yeah, but then, you know - the thing was like - I - I wasn't able to rent a place. I didn't know that you need to have a credit card in order to build up a credit. And so I never got credit! So then, I could not rent a place!

Katie:

I remember a time in my life when I didn't have credit as a college kid, and I needed my mom's help to rent my first apartment. Thinking about this made me think of what Chris Richardson had to say about family being a major component as to whether or not someone could get ahead or even stay afloat and how true that was in Amira's case.

Amira:

When you become homeless, that that's the hard part. To get a place again - to get a place again. Even if you have a job, you can never get a job because you need an address to put on the application. So, you know, and that's what I'm saying. Like, you know, it makes me upset and seeing like, you know, I mean, if people think like, you know, like if you're homeless, you brought up to yourself, you know, I mean, the thing is, like you lose your job and that’s - it's not like you can stay in your apartment until you find a job again. You - you lose your apartment, you get evicted.

Katie:

Emma was born on September 22nd, 2012. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

When Emma was born, where were you living?

Amira:

I - I living basically in the car. Emma's bed was a 5.99 plus tax laundry basket from Target. That’s so bad. Nobody knew I was homeless. Just the people at Starbucks knew I was homeless. Or at Denny’s Dinner -  because… because I was there every night. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Yeah. 

Amira: 

I mean what is a woman doing with an infant, like, in in a coffee shop, you know. 

I mean, like - (talking over each other).

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

And you were there every night…

Amira:

Every, every other night, sometimes. I would just buy something to drink, you know, and I would uh, like, you know like I would go to the bathroom with Emma. I - Emma had her baths, like her bath - first bath Emma had was in Starbucks. (Amira tears up.) Yeah. I was afraid Emma might get sick because I didn't have any heater in my car. And even if I would have a heater, I couldn’t let the car running because it's going to cost me my gas.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Did you  - were you always pretty safe in the car? Did you have problems? 

Amira:

Yeah. Yeah - like during the day, nobody was bothering me that much. You know, like but in the evening you get more attention to you, you know. I wouldn’t stay the whole same night, the same spot there. I would stay, like, for like 3 hours, and then I would just move my car - go to some other neighborhood and park there for a few hours.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Would you sleep? 

Amira

Yeah, I would just, like, doze off because I had to set my alarm clock for every 2 hours to wake up Emma to feed her. So I would just like feed her and then I would just move my spot. So then it's not kind of like sleeping, right?

Katie (narrating):

Emma was on a two hour feeding schedule because she wasn't gaining weight fast enough. She was healthy, but the two hour feedings were vital to keep her weight up. I thought about doing these two hour feedings in a car, at Starbucks, at Denny's, and alone. Taking care of a newborn is difficult under the best of circumstances. I couldn't imagine trying to do it without a home or support.

Yet, without either of those things, Amira took Emma to all of her doctor appointments and regular checkups, as Emma did have low cost health care Under California's Medicaid plan for kids and for billing purposes, Amira provided the hospital with a friend's address so they would not know she was unhoused. As for Amira taking care of herself, she did the best she could, using the skills she had acquired from her hard upbringing to creatively find ways to get her needs met.

Amira:

I would just go and sneak myself into the gym at the community college. I would take my showers there with my baby. I was never dirty. Emma was never dirty. It was we- if you would see me on the streets you would never think, like, you know, I'm homeless.

Katie:

But Amira was worried and tired. Despite her best efforts, at some point, she realized she couldn't keep this up. She needed help. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Um… tell me a little bit about when you decided to go to “Child Protective Services.” 

Amira:

In Germany, if you're in a crisis and you need help with your children, you go to CPS. You tell them, look, you know, I’m - I don't have a place to live. Can I place my kid, you know, in the children home or foster home until I get my stuff ready, and then I just come and then get my child back?

So the kid is at least safe - he’s not on the streets or whatever, right? So I went to CPS. I felt like, okay, you know, Emma’s is like two months old. And I'm like, I'm here, I'm homeless and I'm living in a car. And I just need help- is there anyway I can like place her like - you know - like - in a foster home - and - until I find a place and their like, “Oh, no, it doesn't work here like this, honey.” I remember - I remember like how he said this, “honey.” And I’m like - you know what, don't honey - I hate when people call me “honey.” I’m not your “honey.” Especially when a man says that. I don't like that, you know? And then he's like, um… When you sign this right now, you are giving all the rights to us and, you know, like to the state, and you will have a hard time to get your child back because you need to prove, like, you know, you have a housing, you are financially stable, you are mentally stable. It can take years, he told me, right there. And I’m like, okay, you know what -never mind. And I just took the paper right away. I - I just ripped the paper off - right there and I’m like hell no. Mmm- Mmh. I’m not doing this. He said, “Make sure you don't get arrested sleeping in your car.”

Katie (narrating):

Don't get arrested while sleeping in your car. In one of the richest countries in the world in one of the richest cities in the world… The only advice San Francisco CPS had to offer Amira was not to wind up in jail. After that, Amira was scared. That's when she started frequenting the 24 hour diners, using what little money she had to buy something small so she could just sit there, limiting her risk of getting caught in the car with the baby.  Already exhausted, she gave up sleeping at night completely and instead slept in her car only during the day when it would look less suspicious.

Amira:

I would just park always, like, in nice neighborhoods. But then they would soon knock on my door, like people who were walking with their dog, knock on my door… “Lady, you cannot sleep here.” And I’m like - in this fancy neighborhood - and then I'm like, am I harming you? I'm just staying in my car. What - what does it do do do you?” But it’s their neighborhood! You know, looking out for their neighbor and then seeing my car was an old Acura Integra, it did not fit there.

Katie:

I think of all the money in San Francisco, in the tech companies, in the million dollar homes, of all the politicians saying they have plans to get things on track, plans that never seemed to come to fruition. And I find myself wondering… how did everyone become so ambivalent? 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Did you ever get stopped by a cop? 

Amira:

No.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Not once?

Amira:

No, not once. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Not in eleven months?

Amira:

No. No.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Were you working anymore? 

Amira:

I was working as a nanny with Emma. I took Emma with me as a nanny. But it was not like that much hours. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

For a different person? 

Amira:

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Yeah. Did they know you were living in your car?

Amira:

Yes. You know, they offered me, look, you know, you stay with us. I’m like… no… They had a tiny apartment, I mean - I didn't want to do that to them. They had already like the the the brother staying there. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Okay.

Amira:

And then, I just didn't want to do that. You know, and if you're on your own, it's easier to go couch to couch. Then when I had Emma, that was not easy anymore.

Katie (narrating):

Through various nanny jobs, Amira was able to make enough money to get basic needs met, like gas for the car. And she had food stamps for Emma. She just couldn't pull ahead enough to get housing, especially without the past credit history. 

So you might be wondering at this point why Amira didn't try a homeless shelter or a woman's shelter? Well, she did. She put her name on a list even before Emma was born. But the average wait time for a bed in a San Francisco shelter, then and now, can be up to six months or more.

Amira:

In June they had this spot for me, but it was in a mixed shelter - men and woman. And I did not, I didn't wanna to go there. I do not want to be around…this…

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Was it scary?

Amira:

Yeah, of course! You know, I mean then you don't know if somebody right next to you masturbates. Somebody right next to you touch you or your baby. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Yeah.

Amira:

So, I- I- I couldn’t. 

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

And they allowed - they would have allowed you in with a baby?

Amira:

Yes. So then I decided I'm going to go to a women's shelter. No men allowed.

Katie (narrating):

And so, Amira crossed her fingers and hoped a spot would open up in the women's shelter soon. But another month went by and still nothing. Friends started encouraging Amira to go back to Germany, thinking things could be easier for her there. One of the families she was working with even offered to help with airfare.

Amira:

And then, they said like - “We pay your ticket! Just go! Go to Germany.” Whatch ya, doing? You know.

Katie (narrating):

I have to say, if I didn't know the details of Amira's past rooted back in Germany, I would have thought the same thing. Wouldn't Germany be so much easier and so much less expensive than San Francisco? But then I imagined Amira going back to where all her troubles began and possibly having to be near family. A family who didn't even know about the existence of Emma.

I could see why Germany was the last place Amira wanted to be. She was at a crossroad and needed to make a move.

Amira:

Just didn't know how I'm going to survive anymore.

Katie (narrating):

Amira knows the exact date she moved to the shelter.

Amira:

2000 and… 14 - 29 of August. The moment I moved into the shelter - that was the moment I didn't have to be afraid. I could sleep at night. I didn't have to be afraid to be caught with Emma in the car. I had my own room. I had my own bed. First time since 2010, I would say. I was getting more resourceful. I was hearing from other women, like where they get help, where they go, and what to get, and where to what to get.

They'd been in the shelter. They knew where to go. And, you know… one thing led to the other thing, and I think like the day I left this crazy woman and I moved into the shelter, everything changed for me.

Katie:

Emma turned one in the shelter about one month after she and her mom arrived. And when Amira says one thing led to another, she's not kidding. This is what I think many people don't understand in regards to homelessness. Sometimes someone just needs that first break, that first moment that gets you inside a shelter or someone that takes a chance on you and gives you a job or a friend or family member who lets you live with them while you're getting on your feet.

It's that one chance that actually has to appear for the rest of the chances to unfold. But what if someone never gets that chance? Then what? Amira was at the shelter for a total of 12 months, and during that time she suddenly had support in ways she couldn't imagine. The shelter wasn't just giving Amira and Emma protection from the streets, it was giving them a network of support she had never experienced before - in her life.

She had guidance on how to enroll in welfare programs and access to other subsidies she had never known existed, including a program that assisted low income women with child care.

Amira:

So she was in daycare. And I’m like, “Great! If Emma is in daycare, I can go to work! And so… then I’m like - I just needed a place.”

Katie:

One day, yet another opportunity presented itself. An employee at the shelter told Amira about a subsidy grant that provided housing for people going back to school. The woman thought Amira would be a good fit for the program.

Amira:

They told me, look - we have the subsidy program. You have to go to school to get a degree and we help you subsidize in your rent. And I’m like, okay! It- it - was always my dream, like, you know, to have like college - to have a college degree.

Katie:

And so once again, Amira seized the opportunity. Ten months after coming to the shelter, Amira started school and she and Emma moved into their first apartment.

Amira:

It was the first home Emma had, you know, basically she was just living in cars and shelters.

Katie:

I met Amira a year before she graduated from college, and to say she worked hard is an understatement. She was a stellar student, engaged in class and so eager to learn. And not only did Amira get her degree, but she graduated with honors.

Amira:

That's why I'm the first one in the family who has a, you know, you know, a college degree. So, yeah, I am really grateful for that because the shelter made me basically to get my college degree. I'm not going to lie to you. It was not easy. There were times I wanted to give up when things were getting harder and I'm like, what is it I'm doing?

But… you- you can do it. You have to believe in yourself. You have to - you have to… you need to have a drive for something. You need to have a drive. My drive was Emma.

Katie:

It wasn't just her own schooling that Amira worked hard to obtain.

Amira:

When it was time for finding a school for my daughter, I toured 16 schools. I applied to 14 schools, and now she goes to one of the best girl’s schools in this country, you know. And so um- we did this together… And - and she was accepted on a full ride.

Katie:

Emma is now ten years old and she's doing really well in school. I asked Amira why she chose the school she did for Emma.

Amira:

I was I want her to be - love being a woman, even at this age. I want her to be like, free and say and, you know, be empowered as a woman, you know. That's why she can be a girl. And it's okay, right? She can - she can be a girl with me. And… she needs to be empowered as a woman.

I want her to be strong. I want to be, you know, stand up for herself as a woman and fight for her rights. I - I couldn’t, I tried and I was always held back.

Katie (on location / talking with Amira):

Does Emma know you guys were unhoused?

Amira:

Of course she knows that. We talk about this all the time. The shelter we used to live, she knows where the shelter is. She knows when we - when I pass the spots I stayed the night before, I point out… I say Emma,  look here… That’s where we stayed the night one night where it’s easier to park. So, I tell her like we stayed here… we stayed here - I- say -I tell Emma, Emma, you know what? You lived in every neighborhood! You know this homeless…there’s nothing to be ashamed of… We passing the homeless every day in the tents… Emma told me, “Mama? Mama? Do you think, do you think they like sandwiches?” And I’m like, 

“I’m sure that they like sandwiches.” She's like, “You know, why don't we just make some sandwiches and give it to them? But it cannot be peanut butter sandwich because they might be allergic to it. So we have to give them sunflower butter, right?” Then she told me, “Mama, you know - they they are not born homeless…they used to be somebody's babies." And she's so right. Look at all the homeless you see, even the the most crazy out there…

They used to be babies. I'm sure they used to be cute babies. You have to always see that in front of you before you judge a homeless, because he is an addict now or has an alcohol problem or he is taking a shit on the street, which we have seen all the time. But they used to be normal people before they ended up where they ended up.

Katie:

Amira was one of the lucky ones. She ended up being able to get herself out.

Amira:

Even when bad things happened to me, it was always on the end something good coming out. Even though I was homeless, I was abused, I was put down, I was not valued living as a woman. But… nothing… it made me - it just made me stronger for every abuse I took in, for every downfall I had, it made me stronger. 

I teach Emma, there’s less fortunate people than us, and I believe in life

you need to be good. You need to be good to the people around you in order to be happy, to be grateful what you have… so every night when we go to bed, so I don't pra— I’m not religious. We don't pray. What we do - it’s like a ritual. We say, like, thank you, like, you know like thank you. Thank you so much, being in my life. Thank you. You came at the right time. You saved my life, you know? And thank you, Emma. I could have not done this without Emma. I would do it again and again. I would - would do it again, at the worst, just to have Emma… I would do it.

Katie:

Before we go into the credits, we want to mention that we've listed some resources in our show notes, should you be in need of support as Amira was. Please know that you're not alone. This episode of “Shadow Clock” was created by Adam Gold and me. Post-production audio is by Matt Sauro. Social Media is managed by Spencer Masternak. German document translations were done by Jacob Frey.

Music is credited to Pond5 and PremiumBeat. Content contributors, composers and individual song titles for each episode can be found on our website at shadow-clock.com. Kate Cosgrove creates original illustrations for each episode of “Shadow Clock,” which you can also see at shadow-clock.com. A special thanks goes out to Alejandro Vélez, Adam Gould, Kate Cosgrove, Matt Sauro, Jacob Frey, Bruce Scivally, Spencer Masternak, Josh Kobak, Johnny Massena, Sydney Kuipers, Mary Brehm and Miles Brehm, Adam Zavaslak, Austin Krieg, Alec Jensen, Forest Hills Northern High School in Michigan, Duro Howard and Kelsey Hayes. 

A huge thank you to Chris Richardson, Kama Fletcher and the entire Downtown Streets team for hosting me at one of their meetings. You can learn more about the Downtown Streets team and what they do by going to show notes. Finally, thank you to Amira for sharing your story with me and thank you, Emma, for all your patience and letting me borrow your mom for this story.

Amira, your courage and bravery continue to impress me, and it's been an honor to get to know you over the last few years. To our listeners, if you like the show, you can spread the word by telling someone else about “Shadow Clock” and of course, by following us on social media. You can find us on Instagram, TikTok and Facebook at Shadow Clock Podcast, on X, formerly known as Twitter at Shadow Clock Pod, and on YouTube at Shadow Clock.

I personally want to express just how much it means every time you give us a click, a like, a subscribe or follow. And we love word of mouth endorsements. Your support means the world and I can't thank each and every one of you enough. As we are an independent out-of-pocket podcast creating this entire first season with zero funding we very much welcome donations. You can make a donation on our website by going to shadow-clock.com and clicking on the donation button. Donating is one of the best ways you can help us continue to share these stories. And with that, I'm Katie Mahalic and this is “Shadow Clock.”

END OF EPISODE

Questions or comments on this episode? Contact us at info@shadow-clock.com.