On writing dangerously and pulling back your words
Welcome to ‘Eyb the newsletter! In each newsletter I write frankly about topics that as a young Arab and Muslim woman society would tell me were ‘eyb, or shameful. I also share my often crazy life anecdotes, my work, and the books, music, podcasts and shows I’ve been enjoying.
If you are a new subscriber, a double welcome!
It’s been a while since my newsletter has dropped into your inbox, I know. If you remember, I wrote my last newsletter when I was heavily pregnant with my first child. His name is Ammar, he is now 8 months old, and I am slowly finding small bits of time here and there where I can write again.
This week I am attending Bradford Literature Festival, and it’s the first time the festival has been back in full swing since the pandemic. How wonderful it has felt to be able to attend intellectual talks again, especially after the last 8 months of Baby Shark, Coco Melon, and Teletubbies! I will be giving a talk with British Palestinian author Selma Dabbagh and editor of anthology We Wrote in Symbols: Love and Lust by Arab Women Writers published by Saqi, at Bradford Literature Festival on Sunday 3rd July 2022 at 11:15am. If you are interested in attending, book here. We will be talking about the anthology, and about the history of Arab women writing about love and sex. My short story, “Catch No Feelings,” is included in the anthology.
On Saturday I attended a talk called “What Lights Your Feminist Fire?” and one of my favourite authors, Ayisha Malik, was on the panel, as well as Egyptian feminist, and my personal hero, Mona El Tahawy. Mona talked about the power of writing dangerously as a woman, while Ayisha shared a personal anecdote in which she and a friend, both single, were invited to breakfast in Bradford by a well-meaning man who wanted to help them find husbands. He told them that because they were so educated and well-spoken, they most likely would intimidate men, and in order to find a husband they would need to scope their words and pull back what they said.
Both Mona’s words on writing dangerously, and Ayisha’s words on men wanting us to scope our words and pull them back, affected me greatly.
It reminded me of what the great and late Egyptian feminist Nawal El Saadawi wrote in Woman at Point Zero,
They said, “You are a savage and dangerous woman.” I am speaking the truth. And the truth is savage and dangerous.”
The reason why some men gaslight us [women], shame us, threaten us, and call us hysterical, crazy, and liars, is because they know the power of our words. The power of our words to destroy their façade of being respectable men, when the reality behind closed doors is different.
I realised that the only people in my family that have an issue with my writing are the male members. And only recently - while I was in the midst of debilitating postpartum depression and anxiety, and at the lowest point I have been in my entire 33 years of existence - I was told by male family members that I had hurt them and had no right to write about any of my life experiences that included family members - i.e. no right to write about them. I felt so bad and so guilty that I deleted some of the newsletters from my archive here on Substack.
As a woman from an Arab background, married into a South Asian family, openly and frankly talking and writing about your own life experiences and family experiences is considered shameful, like airing dirty laundry.
I had been careful to always write about family experiences and how they related to me respectfully. Should I stop, it would mean I can no longer write my first person articles or the memoir I have been planning in my head.
Writing about what is personal is important to me - it allows me to connect with others, and I have always written with the hope that readers will resonate and not feel alone.
I am often told by family, “you are intelligent but you write about the wrong things.” I am given suggestions of what I should write about. Essentially what they are saying is that feminism and gender justice are not worthy causes to write about. I still feel a sense of censorship and control if I cannot write openly and freely without the threat of being cut off by certain family members, or told that I am hurting and shaming them.
I thought I had broken all my shackles when I boarded the plane with my one-way ticket from Qatar back to the UK. But now, as my mind grows stronger again and I recover from my postpartum depression and anxiety, I am wondering if there are still shackles that are yet to be broken.
What I have been reading…
I recently read Head Above Water by Kuwaiti academic Dr Shahd Alshammari, and it is a book that has stayed with me for a while. An absolutely beautifully written account of her life with MS (multiple sclerosis), as well as reflections and ponderings on friendship, love, language, and identity. As a woman of mixed heritage, this will really resonate with you if you too are a third culture kid. Shahd has written the book as if speaking to her former student and friend Yasmine, so you feel as if she is inviting you in on a private conversation, as if she is talking to you, the reader, as her friend. Order it here.
Did you know that I am also a certified personal trainer and fitness instructor? Having recently started to recover from postpartum depression, I told Stylist why being told to exercise more isn’t always the cure-all when you have a mental health illness. Read How to exercise with depression and anxiety (even when your mental health won’t let you exercise) by Isabella Silvers.
What I have been writing…
Coincidentally I also interviewed Dr Shahd Alshammari about her new book Head Above Water for The New Arab. Read my feature here.
What I have been watching…
Image from bbc.com
My husband and I have just finished watching Back in Time for Birmingham - what a brilliant mini-series! Many of us have heard our elders talk about how hard it was when they first immigrated to the UK but this series really brought everything to life and into perspective. I think we came out of watching it with an increased respect for our parents and grandparents. The mini-series takes a modern day Indian family in Birmingham and gets them to recreate living in the city in a different decade each week, from the 1950’s until the present day. Watch it on BBC iPlayer.
If you enjoy reading my work, you can read more in my semi-autobiography Hijab and Red Lipstick, published by Hashtag Press. You can find it on Amazon, Waterstones, Blackwell’s, Book Depository and in the Hashtag Press Shop.