Cheryl Diamond’s ‘Nowhere Girl’ reveals a painful childhood on the run with her fugitive family

Cheryl Diamond grew up living outside the law. Her family was perpetually on the run, and by the time she was 12, she’d spent time in India, Australia, South Africa, Canada, Germany, Romania, Egypt, Israel and America. 

It all seemed exciting to a little kid. She describes having a charming father, a beautiful mother and two older siblings, and as well as being homeschooled, she says she was taught to shoplift as a way to stick it to corporate, consumer culture. But all of this exacted a steep toll. The charm that her father turned on and off, she says, was a thin veneer for what could be cruel behavior.

“The worst of it was the isolation, the feeling of there being no safe place, including within your own family,” says Diamond.

“Nowhere Girl: A Memoir of a Fugitive Childhood” is filled with stories that can seem outlandish, but Diamond says that her story is “too insane” to have been concocted and that she has documentation to back it up in the form of police and Interpol reports from around the globe.

“I do think often, ‘How did you survive,’ Diamond says.

The book recounts the ups and mostly downs of the years living under her father’s thumb, but as she recently discussed on video from Rome where she lives, it also gave her a chance to write herself into existence by recounting how she finally broke free, learned to stand up for herself and to create a fresh identity. (She says she has had no contact with her father or older sister since she was 24.)

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Q. In 2008, you wrote “Model: A Memoir” about your teen years as a model. But much of it doesn’t jibe with this book, especially your relationship with your parents. How do you reconcile the differences between the two books?

That was how I survived. I had to see my parents in a better light when I was a teenager. I had a feeling that things were wrong but I also loved them with all my heart because those were the only people I knew. During those years when we would see each other, our relationship was cheery because I had everything locked away in my head.

It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I could admit to myself what was happening, so “Model” is an accurate description of where I was then in my psychic development and what I was willing to admit to myself.

Q. Why did you write “Nowhere Girl”?

The agony was too much for me to keep inside any longer. A lot of people go through similar challenges in their life — even if mine was a unique situation — and it’s something we’re taught to hide or feel ashamed of, which makes us not normal and not able to be part of the world. I certainly felt that very, very strongly throughout my life.

After escaping, I felt there wouldn’t be a place for me in the world but the more I forced myself to open up to people the more I realized how much we had in common even though our stories were very different.

One of the big reasons I wrote the book is to say, “Your past is not something to be ashamed of,” it is something you can build from and you can change your destiny and choose your family.

Q. How important was making those first friends in Berlin when you first were free of your father?

Simply put, they saved my life. It was my first contact with a world in which I wasn’t judged and wasn’t held up to some impossible standard. At first, actually, it made me very suspicious; they’d be so happy to see me, and I’d always think, “Why?” I had to overcome my own resistance to being accepted. My friends from there and now here in Rome see me more clearly than I see myself. They’ve been rebuilding my trust in humanity and in myself.

Q. Writing this memoir took years. How did it affect you and shape you?

It is tempting to write a book that is basically a primal scream saying, “I was hurt” and “Feel sorry for me.” And I wanted people to know I existed and I had been through a war nobody knew about. But I decided to write from everyone’s perspective as much as I can, though I can never be perfectly neutral, so I tried to put myself in the shoes of the people who abused me and write from their perspective.

I was in and out of the hospital because the writing was really pulling me apart inside. One doctor for my Crohn’s Disease said I should stop because every time I picked up a pen, a few months later I’d be in the hospital. But I knew I had to go through the pain because there would be a release and relief at the end and I hoped it would help other people going through difficult situations.

Reading the final version of the book was the first time in my life I’ve felt proud of myself. I came away feeling, “You were a tough little kid.” I don’t think it ever fully clicked in how much I’d been through until I read my own words. I started to understand and see myself the way my friends do; they were proud of me and believed in me from the beginning. I wrote the story so I could see myself for real, not the way I was told to feel.

Q. You wrote referring to your childhood self compared to other kids, “I know how to survive and they know how to live.” Are you learning to live?

I was a resourceful kid and good at surviving the outlaw life but that wasn’t ever something I would have chosen.

I definitely have learned how to live and enjoy myself more but it’s a process. Just having a routine is an incredible, unbelievable thing I never had before.

For me, it’s very much about balance. When you live the way I did, you get used to a constant influx of adrenaline. When I started to calm my life down and set down roots, I’d feel withdrawal. It was almost uncomfortable and almost scary when you’re used to fighting for survival every day. You tend to create fake crises or things you have to do. 

There’s a part of me that still enjoys an adrenaline rush, but I know what I need deep down – and that’s peace. I do try to rein myself in when I find myself pushing too hard, which I do. I try to be as aware as possible, asking myself, ‘Do you have to be doing that?’ ‘No? Then go lie on the couch.’

Q. Do you hope that readers who might be in an abusive or troubled situation will say not only that they can survive but that they can reframe their lives in terms of their resilience?

That’s exactly the reason I wrote the book. And why I dedicated it to the misfits. It’s for everybody who feels they don’t fit in or feel that something has happened to them and marked them. I believe things can only mark you if you keep it in the shadows. 

I was very much alone and there was no frame of reference when I was in those situations.

I learned through talking to my friends and through my writing to say, “Yes, I was abused,” but to understand that doesn’t mean it’s going to control the rest of my life. 

One of my friends asked if I wanted my story to be out there, because it would follow me. But it was already following me. Whatever happens, it was worth telling the truth.

There’s many ways you can write my story — I had a difficult and destructive childhood — but it was written with hope for the future.