The Moth Radio Hour: Around the World
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Hey there. We here at The Moth have an exciting opportunity for high school sophomores, juniors, and seniors who love to tell stories. Join The Moth Story Lab this fall. Whether for an aspiring writer, a budding filmmaker, or simply someone who loves to spin a good yarn, this workshop is a chance to refine the craft of storytelling. From brainstorming to that final mic drop moment, we've got students covered.

Plus, they'll make new friends, build skills that shine in school and beyond, and have a blast along the way. These workshops are free and held in person in New York City or virtually anywhere in the U.S. Space is limited. Apply now through September 22nd at themoth.org slash students. That's themoth.org slash students.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX, and I'm Katherine Burns. The Moth now does regular events in the U.S., Europe, Australia, and Africa. And this time, we're going to hear stories connected to each of those places. Our first story takes place in America, but has roots in two other continents. It concerns the struggles and fate of two people who moved here from far away in the hopes of making the United States their home. Here's Emma Gordon, live at the Moth.

I'm standing in the conference room of an immigration law firm and reading the asylum cases that are framed on the wall and keeping one eye on my boyfriend who's pacing. Six months ago I didn't even know this man and now I am clutching his deportation notice with both hands. Two lawyers come in and we unravel the whole story. I'm taking notes furiously. One of the lawyers asks, "Did you love her?" And without hesitation he says, "I loved her very much."

And she's like, "Good, 'cause now we just have to prove it." I write that down. "Prove love for ex-wife." And circle it. We met in a dive bar in Brooklyn. There were flames painted on the outside. I walked in and I see a guy. He's got messy hair, big coat, he's holding a beer, and he sees me, lowers his beer and says, "Oh, wow." I go directly to the bar, but I can feel the coat hovering behind me.

and he offers to buy me a drink and I sense a hint of an accent. I tried to find somewhere else to sit but there wasn't one so when I walk back he greets me with open arms and says, "They always come back." He was relentless, making jokes and talking and it was impossible to ignore him because he was just so free. So I gave in and we talked for hours. At one point our bodies stopped facing the bar and faced each other.

I asked him about a scar that he had on his forehead and his face changed like I had unlocked something. And I kissed him. Actually, I threw myself at his mouth. And he stopped me and said, that's not how you kiss. And I didn't have a second to process the criticism before he said, this is how you kiss. And he started over by my ear and he...

dragged his lips over my cheeks and then kissed me and I burst into tears. And I wasn't sure if I was crying because I hadn't been kissed in a really long time or if I had just never been kissed like that before. He came home with me that night and as I was about to take off our clothes, I asked him, what's your name again? Chobba. I made him say it slowly, like someone is chubby.

I went to the bathroom and I came back and my bedroom was covered in post-it notes that said, "Chubba." Chubba on the wall, Chubba on the lamp, everywhere, Chubba. And we stayed up all night talking and fooling around like teenagers until the dawn got us and he fell asleep. But I stayed awake holding this man that I had just met and connecting the freckles on his back like I was tracing a constellation, but a new one, ours.

And exactly one week later, I looked at him and the words just fell out, "I love you." And he looked at me and he said, "I love you too." And that was that. Chaba is from Hungary, I am from Australia. When I meet Americans, the question is, "Where are you from?" But when I meet foreigners, the question is, "How are you here?" And the response is either a mishmash of words like visas, green cards, renewals, O1H1J1, or silence.

And the silence means I don't want to talk about it, I can't talk about it, it's all I think about. And Chubba was the latter. When I met Chubba, I had already had my green card and he had nothing. He was out of status. And he had been married to an American girl years before but they'd gotten divorced. And he did get a green card in the mail but they made a mistake. And his name was on it but the face of an Asian lady.

So, like the letter suggests, if the information on the card is incorrect, send it back. And he did, and that's the last thing he ever heard from immigration. And by the time I met Chaba, he had been out of status for years. He can't travel, no driver's license, get paid in cash, don't get arrested, no red flags, and he can't go home. Not unless you want to stay there and not come back.

So in those first few months when we were together, we threw out the idea of having a lawyer look at the case, like maybe there was something that could be done, but it cost hundreds and we never had it, and we just thought, let's just cross that bridge when we come to it. And then the bridge came to us. I came home and he was sitting on the couch staring at the wall and he didn't speak or turn, he just held up a piece of paper, letter of removal. Shaba had to appear in deportation court or leave the country within 60 days or be deported anyway.

I read that notice over and over, staring at that word of removal and trying to imagine my life without this man that I had just met six months earlier and the air left the room. We barely spoke that night. We showered holding hands. We slept molded to one another. And that brought us to the lawyer's office.

In order to keep Chaba in the country and for us to be together, we had to prove that even though his marriage had ended in divorce, it had been real. Which meant finding evidence that he had loved her, finding evidence that my new boyfriend had loved an elementary school teacher from New Jersey. The first time I saw Chaba in a suit was in his wedding photos.

We hadn't even celebrated an anniversary, but in those photos my boyfriend looked good. I pored over photos of wedding invitations, searched for insurance records, I called their dentist, anything I could to prove their relationship. And the entire time I did so as the anonymous detective and not the new girlfriend because we both knew that it would muddy the case. But it also gave me this sense of remove.

Until I couldn't avoid it anymore and I had to go to the source. And I muted the TV, I sat down next to him and I asked how they met and if he knew right away and how he proposed. And he took a deep breath and he told me about the barbecue that they met at and how they fell fast. And the proposal was simple, nothing special. I focused on taking notes. Did you guys write love letters to each other like we do? Please say no.

Did you keep any? Please say yes. Every time it stung, I just applied more pressure, more emails, more phone calls, more research until the filing deadline came and I packed everything up and sent it to the lawyers and the case was filed. I had spent weeks reaching into his heart and plucking at his heartstrings and now all there was to do was wait. But wait with who? I knew that this could take years.

and Chaba was no longer the free and playful guy from the bar that night. I'd stopped feeling like I was in our relationship and I felt like a third wheel in theirs. It was like I looked at him and I could see in his mind that he had already started packing and I wanted to shake him and say, "Why are you giving up? Don't you want to stay here with me?" Before the court date there was an interview and in place of his ex-wife who couldn't be there,

Her parents went to vouch for their former son-in-law. Chaba and I took the subway in and we walked to Federal Plaza, but we stopped a few blocks short. And I said it so he didn't have to. They probably shouldn't see me. I mean, that was the plan. It was the right thing to do. It was my idea. But in that moment, I wanted him to grab my hand and take me anyway. Make a scene like in a John Hughes movie. But he said, go home. I'll see you in the afternoon. And when I saw him...

He said it had gone fine, but he didn't want to talk about it, and he was different. And it was like a spark was back, and it hit me. I had spent so much time, I had worked so hard to prove this love to the court. Maybe I had proved it too well to him. Maybe our love was... Our love story was just a small part of their bigger love story. And I thought...

oh, I could really get hurt here. But the truth was is that I loved him. I'd never loved anyone as much as I loved him and I wanted him to be free. On the day of the court hearing, we met our lawyer in the lobby and she was wearing a waistcoat that had little embroidered cowboy boots on it. And if she wasn't the smartest woman I'd ever met, I would have panicked. I sat up the back and watched Chubba stand before the judge. And I know that I had done so much to get him to that point, but it wasn't

It wasn't me standing up there, it was him standing up for his life and his loves and his mistakes and his future. And I saw a strength that I hadn't seen before. And that guy, that guy looked great in a suit. I prayed that it was just going to go quick. Whatever the outcome, make it quick. The judge went over the box of relationship that we had given him and there was a little bit of back and forth.

And it was quick. He looked up long enough to say, "Welcome to America." And then he called the next case. And Chaba turned to me and he smiled. And I knew that he was back. It took a while for it to sink in that it was over, that we weren't being torn apart. We were just us. And a spark had gone, but we had uncovered something even better. These days, Chaba prefers to sleep molded to one another like we used to.

But I can't. I'm not a snuggler. But I made him a deal. I'll lay my hand on your back. I don't have to trace the constellation anymore. I know it by heart. Thanks. Emma Gordon is a writer, performer, and teaching artist. She's the creator of Science Baby Play Shops, which teaches early childhood science through story and play. Emma and Chaba are now married and live in New York City with their two sons. ♪

Coming up, a young man is annoyed by his middle-aged seatmate during a long flight to China. And later, a teenage girl in Russia takes a huge risk. That's when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by PRX. This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Katherine Burns. In this show, we're hearing stories that take place around the world. And now we're going to China by way of Australia. We met our next storyteller through our open mic story slam competitions in Sydney, Australia.

The Moth produces more than 500 slams a year around the world, resulting in more than 5,000 stories annually. And crazy as this may sound, a Moth staffer listens to every single story that gets told in the hopes of bringing the best stories to our radio listeners. Even though I don't get to visit all the cities in person as much as I'd like, favorite storytellers emerge from the listening, and I'll get excited when I see a certain name on my listening list that week.

One of those names is our next storyteller, Kuang Yu Yang. Here's Kuang, live in Sydney. It's 2001 and my plane's descending into Beijing International Airport. And I look out the window and I see black cars, dead trees, and pollution so thick that I can actually look and stare at the sun. And I think to myself, what on earth have I gotten myself into?

I was embarking on a one-year study abroad program to learn Chinese and my ex-girlfriend said don't go, my parents told me not to go and I was starting to think maybe they were right. Now the whole journey didn't start off very well. About 12 hours earlier I was at Sydney Kingswood Smith International Airport and I was walking down the aisle of their 747

And I remember thinking the one thing that most young 21-year-old guys would think, that I was hoping that the person sitting next to me would be hot, young and single. And as I got there and I arrived at my chair, I looked down and she wasn't hot, she wasn't young and she wasn't single. There was a middle-aged lady there, bit of grey hair and she was old enough to be my mother.

And so I let out a big sigh and I consoled myself by saying, "Maybe she has a daughter." Anyway, I sit down and we sort of make eye contact. We don't really chat with each other. But then after the plane takes off, I realized that this middle-aged lady, this middle-aged Chinese lady, she didn't speak any English. And this was a big problem for me because one, I didn't speak that much Chinese. That's why I was going there to study. And two,

I felt like it was people like her who made people like me look bad. I mean, I'm an Australian born Chinese. I was born in Australia, I eat Vegemite, I play cricket, I've even watched Neighbours. Yeah, I know, it's a bad definition. Okay, sorry. But then she, on the other hand, didn't speak any English, she probably spoke really loud, and she probably was one of those people who didn't line up in queues.

And I felt a little bit of... I was torn. Like, do I help her or do I just not help her? And I was torn for the whole flight, for 12 hours. And the flight attendant would come by and she'd look at the middle-aged lady and ask, chicken or beef? And the middle-aged lady would look at me and the flight attendant would look at me and then the flight attendant would say, does your mum want chicken or beef? LAUGHTER

And so I try to explain to her she's not my mum, maybe a future mother-in-law, I don't know. But I sit there, and for the next 12 hours, it's just a painful journey because I'm like a live translator for her. Anyway, we're about to land in Beijing International Airport. We touch down. I wave goodbye to the middle-aged Chinese lady, and I go through custom, I pick up my bags, and I exit the terminal.

And I didn't really plan very well. At 21, you don't really plan very well. And I realised that I couldn't read any of the characters or any of the signage. And I was hoping that there would be a bus that would take me directly to my university. Obviously, there wasn't. And I walked up to a guy who looked like a security guard and I asked him for directions. And he sort of waved his hands in multiple directions and gave me a grunt. Uh-uh.

And so I realised that he didn't know what I was saying and I couldn't understand what he was saying. And I went to another guy and I asked him which way to go and he pointed me in multiple directions. And I started to realise that I was in China and I couldn't speak Chinese. I felt really lost and I didn't know what I was going to do because I had to somehow find my way to my university. I get a tap on my back, I turn around and...

It's a middle-aged Chinese lady. And she asks me where I'm going. And so I get my piece of paper and point to the address. Next thing I know, she pulls me towards the taxi ranks, she throws me into a taxi, and she jumps into the taxi as well. We spend the next one and a half hours getting to my location, to my university. By the time I get to campus, I get into my dorm to make sure I'm in the right place.

I turn around, I wave goodbye to the Chinese lady and she waves back as well. I never actually found out what her name was and I never actually found out if she even lived in the direction of where I was going. And I never even found out if she had a daughter. But the one thing that I did find out was that every day in every country there's somebody starting a brand new journey in a brand new country

And they may not be able to speak English, they may not be able to understand that culture, and they're probably just as scared and lost as I was. And so if I ever meet somebody like that, I need to judge less and help more. That was Kuang Yu-Yen. Kuang is a communications and presentations coach for the Asia-Pacific region and based in southern China.

I asked Kwong if he had anything to add to the story. He wrote that part of him will always regret that he didn't get his seatmate's contact info so he could stay in touch or say thank you over a meal. He chalks that up to being young and wouldn't make the same mistake again. Next, we're going to hear a story from our high school program. Anastasia Krasilnikova grew up in St. Petersburg, Russia, but she came to us through a workshop we did at the School of the Future in New York City.

we later decided to do a public showcase featuring some of the best voices to come out of the MOSS education program. And luckily, Anastasia agreed to be a part of it. A quick note that the story touches on the subject of domestic violence. Here's Anastasia Krasilnikova live at the Bell House in Brooklyn. It's May 6, 2011. I am 12 years old, sitting in the airport in St. Petersburg, Russia. I am sitting next to my mom and my sister, and we're all shaking.

Because we're about to take the biggest risk of our entire lives. Before that day, my life was pretty repetitive. It was three days of average, normal life, and then three days of living hell. My father used to work as a security guard at this factory, and for the full three days, he would work there and eat there and sleep there, and for the next three days, he would come home and sleep there and eat there and mostly drink there.

My father was an alcoholic. He abused alcohol and my mom sometimes. But he never touched me in any way. And whenever he got drunk, that's when the real hell began. When he was drunk, he didn't know the difference between the bathroom sink and the toilet. So he would pee in the bathroom sink and I had to clean it up. When he was drunk, he would turn on the music super loud at 2 a.m. I had to wake up and ask him to turn it down. When he was drunk and very angry,

He would throw something at a TV or smash his fist through a wall. All I could do is just sit in my room, paralyzed with fear, praying for someone, something, anything really. When he was drunk, he would lay next to my mom at night and he would ask her, do you want me to kill you right now? Because I sure can. It's interesting how children, when they're 12, are scared of monsters under the bed. I wasn't.

I had my own personal monster and I was much more scary of him. All that was happening, actually, so for the full three days, I was just an average kid living a normal life. And for the next three days, I would be terrified, always on the edge of my seat. All that was happening until one day, my mom got this letter from

that changed our entire lives. I remember her signing the delivery slip, opening up this thick envelope and reading the letter with her hands shaking. The letter said that the process that's been started 10 years ago is about to be over. That process was getting our green cards. Basically, all members of my family could go and live in America forever. I remember my mom, my sister, who's older, and me,

deciding that that was our only chance to escape. That was a moment of choice, and we chose to lie. We lied to my father in many ways, in small ways and big ways, but I remember every three days that he wouldn't be home, we would take out luggage from our closet, put just a little bit of clothes in there, zip it up, and put it back in the closet. Slowly, I started going to my teachers, asking for any final grades, any tests I had to take.

My sister quit her job, big secret. My mom quit hers also very, very secretively. Paranoia ran pretty high at those moments. On May 5th, 2011, my father asked me to close the door after him. He was getting ready for his usual, as he thought, three-day shift. And our door was this huge metal heavy door. And as I pulled it towards me and then made that loud noise,

metal sound and I closed the lock after him. I nearly collapsed on the floor. If all went well, this would be the last time I would see my father. Exactly one day later, three brave women stepped out of that apartment and closed that same door behind us. We simply left, each holding a bag in our hands. We wrote him a letter saying, "We're in America. We're safe. Don't search for us." And so we're sitting in this airport and we are shaking.

And for me as a 12 year old, it's not just paranoia of him possibly finding out and coming to the airport. It's also the paranoia of the unknown. I knew that my current situation was hell, but that was my home. That's where I grew up. That's all I've ever known. But we get on the plane. It takes off. We breathe out. We're safe. At least we're safe. In that moment, my family died.

put everything on the line. We gambled on all of it for a mere chance of happiness. But we won. We're winners. Because now I'm able to stand in this beautiful city. I am surrounded by best people. But most importantly, now eight years later after I got off the plane, I've got the best stepdad one can ever dream of.

From the moment that man entered my life, he became a best friend, my protector, my advisor. I remember us picking high school, and we literally sat through pages and pages of different high schools, their graduation rates and statistics, locations, and he was there. He's the first person I called when I threw up in the Uber. I had to pay $200 in cleaning fees.

And he said, he was laughing a lot. And he said he was glad I was okay. But I hope I realize that I have to pay it out of my own pocket and that he's not paying for it. But to be quite honest with you, I still have nightmares. It's always the same. I'm in my old house. My father is right in front of me. He's drunk, angry, probably throwing something. And I just stand there, paralyzed. I try to run away.

But I can't move. But the alarm goes off. It's the morning. I climb out of my bed and I stumble into the kitchen. I start making oatmeal. My stepdad taught me how to make oatmeal. And he's in the living room getting ready for work. I look at him and I smile. Oh, it's good again. Thank you. That was Anastasia Krasilnikova.

Anastasia is now a senior in college. She says she's pursuing a career in advertising because she'll get to tell stories and bring powerful campaigns to life. I asked her if she has any updates on the story and she wrote, "Nothing really. My stepdad is still the best person ever." Sometimes listening to stories can make us think of our own stories. We'd love to hear yours. Call our pitch line which allows anyone to leave a two-minute version of a story you'd like to tell.

The number to call is 877-799-MOTH. My name is Sarah Flannery. I live in Lexington, Kentucky. When I was about 14 years old, living in Moscow, Russia for...

just a short mission trip with my family. We had journeyed to a nearby village to pass out Bibles because we were missionaries and we didn't know any of the language. So with just a couple of phrases in Russian, we would stand in random cities and hand Bibles to strangers. And at one point, I reached over to hand someone a Bible. And when I turned to look back,

Everyone in my group had left me. I was all on my own in a city hours from my family. So I was, of course, freaked out of my mind. I made my way back to our home base where we had a pile of Bibles stashed by a building.

But my group wasn't there. And this babushka, this Russian grandma who spoke no English, came upon me, saw that I was all alone and petrified. She stood next to me.

And I stood there and handed out Bibles to passersby. And anytime anyone questioned me or whenever the group of militiamen standing nearby glanced my way,

she shooed them off. She literally just waved a handkerchief at them to get them to walk away. And after about 30 minutes, my group showed back up. They came back to the base, realized that I had been there all by myself. And when I turned to show them my

Again, you can pitch us your own story by calling 877-799-MOTH or by going to themoth.org.

Coming up, a young woman runs into trouble when an anonymous person threatens to reveal her HIV status. When the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by the public radio exchange PRX.org. This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX.

I'm Catherine Burns. Our stories in this hour take place around the world. We've touched on Australia, China, Hungary, and Russia. Our final story was told in Seattle, Washington, but is rooted in Kampala, Uganda, in East Africa. Here in Seattle, where we partner with the public radio station KUOW, is Robina Babirie. Hi. Well, it's my first time in the U.S. ever, and I'm excited. Thank you.

When I was about 11, my mom sat me down with my twin sister and she told us that we are HIV positive. So I went ahead and asked her, how did we get it? I mean, how did you get it? So she said, I got it through blood transfusion and that is how I gave birth to you with it. And then I asked her, are we going to die? So she looks at me and tells me, no, you will not die. You will live long just like me, your mother.

As much as I was consoled, I did not really believe that that will happen because in Uganda, Kampala, the city, but also in my community to be particular, when people find out that you're HIV positive, the first thing they'll always see is death. Worthlessness, hopelessness, someone who cannot survive. So I looked at everybody in my neighbourhood,

mothers were refusing their kids to play with us. They would always tell them, "Come, come, don't relate with those girls, they are HIV positive." I don't know how they got to know, but you know how rumors can spread. So I go to school and I give my nurse this medicine to really support me and remind me always to take my medication. And she would always go about and say, "Come and take your medicine. You know it's always time for your medication." So I look at my friends

And because I made this pact with myself that I would never tell anyone, because if they found out, first of all, they would look at me and be like, how are we seated in this room with this kind of person? Two, they would always look at you as a contagious being. So I would always like, you know, just brush it off and be like, I don't know why she always says it's made. It's just vitamins. I mean, you know, for healthy lifestyle. I'm like, okay.

So I'm in my high school, I'm 19, and I'm done with my high school. So I meet this guy. He's not so cute, but he's okay. But he loves, you know, he loves reading. He listens to music quite a lot, which I really like. So I'm attracted to him and we kind of fall in love. But as we are in the process of falling in love, I cannot tell him because if I did...

and he gets to know that I'm HIV positive, the first thing that will always come to his mind is, "She has been sleeping around." So I don't really tell him, but I love him, and we are going more than this. And I choose to tell him because I feel that is the right thing to do. Feeling so responsible enough, I sit him down in his one-roomed house on his bed, and I tell him, "I need to tell you something.

So he looks at me with this curiosity and he says, what is it? So I go and say, I was born with HIV. I mean, just that. So he takes this deep sigh and he's like, he takes another one. He looks at me. And in my mind, whatever is going on, my heart is beating right that time. And my heart is racing. So I'm trying to imagine so many things. Okay, he's going to tell me, whatever.

I've lost trust in you. I never knew that you had these promiscuous. I never knew that, you know, you wanted to kill me. And then he says, babe, everything is going to be okay. Oh, the relief. And that makes me love him even more. I mean, who am I? So this one time I'm seated on the bed and I'm trying to listen to this music. And then I get this text from an unknown number. And it goes like,

If you do not disclose your HIV status, I'm going to disclose for you. Okay. I look at this text and I'm wondering whether it has come to the right person. But at the same time, I'm like, okay, so I'm HIV positive. So who is this person saying this? I quickly like, you know, puzzled a bit. I send it, I mean, I show it to my boyfriend and he just says, don't worry. This is just something small. I'm like, okay, but of course, you know, you're a bit puzzled. You're trying to figure out things here and there.

And then two days later, another text comes in and it says, this is just the beginning. You are yet to see more. So while I'm at EATS, you know, my boyfriend is also trying, you know, to say, let us track the number and get to see who this person is. So my sister comes and, you know, she persuades me to come to a conference that was out of the country. And this conference...

It brings together so many people infected with HIV, people working in the field of HIV, and they are really, really passionate and committed to what they are doing. So I'm like, but, you know, you guys are from Australia, you guys are from Mexico, others are from other parts of Africa, and you guys are so bold. They are really out. They are talking about this like as though it is a piece of cake.

And I'm looking at them and I'm like, okay, well, that is, you know, good for you. But I am not ready because how do you say in Uganda, in my community, that, hey, I am living with HIV and I'm so proud to say it. I mean, they're going to see as a murderer. They're going to see as a prostitute. They're going to see as a dead person. Above all, they're going to see you as someone who is worthless.

It doesn't matter whether you have your masters or PhD, you have HIV. And that is the worst thing that can ever happen to you. So we come back and reality hits me again that, okay, I was being blackmailed and it is still going on. So what we have texts become phone calls and these phone calls are masked in a voice. I was really hopeful that maybe I would find out whether it is a male or female or an older person.

But no, you don't know who this person is. I don't know. My mind is now thinking, what should I do? And then I get this post on Facebook where I'm tagged with my picture and a very big caption that said, this girl infected me with HIV. Beware of her. Things are now rushing in my mind. I am blank. I don't even know what to do. I mean, my boyfriend talked about tracking the number, but I cannot even think straight.

And later, this very person calls me and says, "You have refused to do what I want you to do, so I'm going to involve your family." Now, this is too much. I mean, I have dealt with this when I was a child. I have tried to be as humble, and now you want to involve my parents, my family? So I'm so mad at that time. At the same time, I'm so scared. I don't know whether this person has contacted them already,

And then I just call my sister and she comes right away and I tell her, you know what? I think I'm done with all this. I think I'm tired. I'm tired of everything. This is weighing down on me. So I get this bag and pull out this T-shirt. It was a black, nice cotton T-shirt and it had very nice big words in pink that said HIV positive. So I tell her, you're going to take a picture of me in this T-shirt. And she looks at me, she's like,

are you serious? Like, are you really, really serious? And I'm like, yes, you're just going to take the picture. So she looks at me, she's so puzzled, and I give her the phone, and I put this T-shirt on. But what is running in my mind is, I am done with all this. By the same time, am I really ready to do this? So, you know, the mixed emotions are coming in, and I'm trying, you know, I'm looking at this T-shirt, and I'm telling her, take the picture. And she looks at me, and I'm like, take the picture. So,

I hold that T-shirt and I tell her, do it. So she takes the picture and right that instant, I pull the phone from her hands and then just upload it on my Facebook. But of course, I'm still wondering, what the hell am I doing right now? So I get this text, this phone, and send this person, whoever it was, a text and say, you want to disclose my HIV status? Let me disclose it for you. And looking back at the conversations,

the text messages that I was receiving. And I realized, oh wait, the asterisks at the end of every text, the abbreviations that were coming in in each text, this person always knew where I was going, what time, what I was putting on, whether it was a red top and blue jeans, which kind of car I was moving in, whether it was a motorcycle or a taxi.

And I'm like, wait, these things are similar to my boyfriend. I mean, I've been with my boyfriend everywhere I go and this blackmailer knows everywhere I go. And then I realized, wait, I was so blinded and it was right in front of me that the person I really trusted with my secret, with my heart, was behind the blackmail.

But then I get a phone call, you know, just thinking about all that. I get a phone call from my sister and she tells me, check your Facebook. So I'm like, okay, now my heart is racing again the second time. I'm like, now what is not happening right now? So I open my Facebook post and look at these comments. I mean, some of them were like, wow, this is courageous. Wow, you know, you're a strong woman. Others are telling me, you're brave.

And then there was this particular post comment that I get from the post and it said, I wish we had more people like you. My God. I mean, it was mind blowing that what I had anticipated as negativity had already turned to positivity. I felt alive that time. And you know what? I did not confront my boyfriend. It wasn't worth it. So I just packed my bags. I mean, I was already done with my high school life.

I was a few weeks to university, packed my bags, went to university. I was going to a new environment. I was going to make new friends. But above all, I was starting a brand new me. Thank you.

That was Robina Babiwile. Robina is an advocate for young people living with HIV. She's passionate about the issues affecting the girl child in Uganda and volunteers with several networks of young people, especially those living with HIV. We met Robina when she was a part of a Moth Global workshop in Johannesburg, South Africa. The Moth's executive producer, Sarah Austin-Ginesse, directed Robina's story. Sarah and Robina recently spoke about the aftermath of what happened.

Okay, Robina, so your ex-boyfriend did this. And what could have been a reason that he blackmailed you? So the reason as to why he could have blackmailed me is because he thought maybe I was not giving him the attention he needed. And I was solely giving it to my friends, especially, I mean, since I had so many guy friends. So I basically think that

Maybe he was quite jealous that I was having so many guy friends who I could hang out with. In one of the blackmailers' conversations, there was this statement where this person said that, I want you to love only one person. And in my head, I'm like, who else am I, you know, falling in love or am I in love with apart from my boyfriend? And do you stand by your decision not to confront him?

Yeah, I do. I feel it's much lighter that way because I would say he knows the truth. He knows what he did. And I don't think confronting him will change anything. He ruined my relationship with my friends. But I would say he also made way for me to really come out and be who I am. So confronting him, I would say, wouldn't really change anything.

To see a photo of Robina, go to themoth.org. While you're there, you can call our pitch line and leave a two-minute version of a story you'd like to tell. The story I would like to share is about me meeting my father. I was 26. I'd only spent a handful of days with him. Prior to that in my life, he's Peruvian. He lives in Peru. I was born in the U.S. I have never left the country up until that point.

and we had been exchanging sporadic emails every time he'd asked me to visit, so I said yes one day. It was just like I had to be there. So I get a plane ticket. I expedite a passport. I go there. I don't even know if he's going to meet me at the airport, and I get off the plane, and he's not there, but I wait an hour.

I go back to the luggage area. There he is. And we start off on this two-week-long experience of getting to know each other. I meet my family. I have six brothers and sisters I've never met. And then my father and I leave to a solo trip in Cusco. And we get there. And there are moment after moment of these tiny little reveals of who this man is and who I am in relation to him. And then...

Finally, there's this evening where we're listening to this band while we eat dinner in this amazing restaurant. And he picks up his phone and he calls his wife and he starts singing along with the music. And he's holding up the phone so she can hear it. And in that moment, I felt like, yes, I know who this man is and I can love him. Again, you can pitch us your own story by calling 877-799-MOTH or by going to themoth.org.

That's it for this episode. We hope you'll join us next time for the Moth Radio Hour. Your host this hour was the Moth's artistic director, Catherine Byrne. The stories in the show were directed by Sarah Austin Janess, Kate Tellers, and Catherine McCarthy. Additional story coaching by Tim Manley and Nora Revenal.

The rest of the Moss directorial staff includes Sarah Haberman, Jennifer Hickson, and Meg Bowles. Production support from Emily Couch. Our pitches came from Sarah Flannery and Anna Byers. Moss stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Duke Levine, Papa Dosio, Brad Meldow, and Galen Huckard.

The Moth is produced for radio by me, Jay Allison, with Vicki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.