July 03, 2022 at 10:00 a.m. EDT

Solafa Magdy is an Egyptian journalist and Women Human Rights Defender, A former politician prisoner. She won the prestigious Courage in Journalism Award from (IWMF), In 2020, the Washington Post Press Freedom Partnership spotlighted Sallam, She faced murder threats, detention and lifetime prison sentences simply for doing her jobs-reporting the truth and holding the powerful to account. In December 2020, The Mayor of Paris granted her the French honorary citizenship, honoring her for her work.

I`m writing these lines while sitting behind the computer, on a black table surrounded by a number of papers and pencils. I like to write with a pencil. I feel like it’s close to my heart. Beside my right hand there are a number of documents. I`ve always loved the ones that are yellowish, they captivate me and take me away to an ancient world filled with silence and peace.

In front, there is a glass window. I open it whenever I want, and also close it when I feel cold. I write, draw and read whenever I want.

I sip coffee, answer the phone, exchange smiles with Hossam and my little kid, Khaled. He is no longer a Child, He is 9 years old. We have fun together and  read articles that we work on together.

It seems like a traditional life that everyone has the right to live, doing what they like whenever and wherever they like. Isn’t it?

On another side of this world, thoughts come from the land of dreams for those who stay there behind bars.

So, please allow me to let these lines take you somewhat far away, and dive with me into the memory of three years ago, specifically the night of November 26, 2019, the night of my arrest, or the night my husband and I were kidnapped from one of Cairo’s public squares.

Ok, I am Solafa Magdy, 36 years old, an Egyptian journalist and human rights defender. I was imprisoned in my country for nearly two years because of my work as a journalist and my defense of human rights, women and minorities.I now live in Paris, France, after I had to relocate to a safe place where I can live with my small family, without the threat of kidnapping or arrest.

Over the past ten years, I gave all of my energy to journalistic and human rights work. I was well aware that this work- in Egypt and in the other countries that are closed politically and socially- has a tax that journalists, human rights defenders and all advocates of change have to bear, since they have chosen this road. 

My close acquaintance with Egyptian prisons began on the evening of November 26, 2019 when my husband and I were kidnapped from Doki square (one of the public squares in central Cairo) by security forces in civilian clothes, they handcuffed us and blindfolded us and put us inside a microbus. First, we were taken to the Doki police station where one of the officers beat me and verbally abused me to force me to turn on my  phone.

I was physically searched by a female detainee in the police station in front of the security forces, then I was transferred from the police station to one of the illegal detention headquarters (the national security headquarter in the Abbasiya neighborhood). Al Abbasiya is truly a cemetery and a slaughter house for anyone who incurs the wrath of the security apparatus. 

I remained forcibly disappeared for about 24 hours until one of the officers received the order to send us to the headquarter of the Supreme State Security Prosecution in the Tagammu El Khamis neighborhood.

The State Security Prosecution, ordered my imprisonment for 15 days pending investigation, after fabricating the classic set of charges that authorities continue to use against their opponents: “Joining a terrorist group, spreading false news and destabilization of security and stability” then I was included case No. 488.

I was naive to the point that I expected the investigator to document the kidnapping, assault and theft of my belongings and my car. How stupid! He is part of the system. I only realized that when my request to document the assault was overlooked, and I was subsequently transferred to El Qanater Women`s Prison.

At the beginning of my days in prison I was put in the (Erad) cell, which is the ward that receives new prisoners. That awful cell! It is a very tightly cramped room, where there is only one window, and a bathroom with a worn wooden door, and on the side an iron shower pipe.

The cell housed more than 60 prisoners, and it contains iron bunk beds, each of which consists of three floors, but only two of them were used, and the third floor was left empty as a kind of torment to new prisoners, so we lay three prisoners on each tier, and we share one blanket the ‘’meery Blanket’, used by the military. 

Then I was transferred to cell No.8 which is the ward dedicated to (sexual) ‘morality cases.’ When the Prison Administration would like to further humiliate a prisoner they put her in this ‘morality ward’  thinking that it is a disgrace.

I didn’t know anyone in the cell, and the number of prisoners ‘pending political cases’ was few compared to the number of ‘non-political prisoners’ giving them the upper hand inside the ward. By the order of the Prison Administration two of them were appointed as ‘nubatshias’ (watchwomen), to monitor our moves to the officer in charge. 

They also had other tasks inside the ward, such as attempting to initiate problems with us for no reason, or turning off the hot water while we used the bathrooms during winter times, and other daily ‘inconveniences’.

Despite my experience which many consider to be more grave compared to some of my fellow prisoners who were there before me and those who came after me, especially after publishing many of my journalistic pieces that shed light on the violations of the security services and the authorities with citizens and human rights defenders over the past years, which resulted in a wide international advocacy campaign, that angered the authorities. 

But there are so many women who suffer in Egyptian Women’s Prisons. From my point of view there is a clear deterioration in the State’s treatment of women, and defenders in particular, especially after 2013.

Before 2013, the situation was different. We had not witnessed such large scale detention of women. Starting with 2013, however, it became as though there was a tacit agreement among state agencies that women are the weakest link, and that everyone should take advantage of this. This is to highlight the irony, wherein the Sisi regime claims, and even receives accolades, for supporting women and their freedom.

Since then, physical assault on women at the time of their arrest and during their imprisonment have become more common.

 and passes without consequences. Further, in prison, women political prisoners are placed with non-political prisoners, or as they are called ‘criminal cells’, unlike men’s prisons where the political prisoners are separated from the ‘criminals.’, When authorities separate us they make any collective action to confront violations inside women’s prisons impossible. So each one of us ends up the violations by herself, or with a small group if we are lucky, exposing us to more abuse. 

I was subjected to many violations inside the prison. The first time I was forcefully subjected to the ‘women examination’, which resulted in serious bleeding that lasted for several months. The punishment was by order of the security officers to deter me from asking them to provide healthcare for us as prisoners  inside the prison in conformity to the regulations of the law.

The second time, I was subjected to a strip search by the female guards by a direct order from the Chief of Inspections, before I went to a court hearing, under the pretext of searching for any prohibited items such as letters.

The third time, and not the last time, was  when I was kidnapped again, but this time was from inside the prison, where I was taken from the cell by three guards, and as soon as I arrived at the main door of the prison, a black blindfold was placed on my eyes and I was handcuffed at the request of a security officer who introduced himself as  coming from  ‘higher security’,  and claimed that he came to help me, but in return for his help, I had to heed his requests, and that I have to cooperate with them in exchange for my release.

I remained standing, blindfolded, and handcuffed for six hours, and this was how I was interrogated. I was insulted, harassed, threatened and physically abused by a person whose identity remains unknown to me till today.

I write today and everyday to prevent the recurrence of such violations behind prison walls. Many women prisoners remain voiceless behind bars today. We have to be their voice. We must not pause ever for a day,  until they are set free, especially as we now know very well how they are treated behind these closed doors.