Samra HabibAnmeldelser

What is included is well written, though only the details and the intersectionality of Muslem/persecuted sub-sect/LGBTQ+/POC/Woman makes it stand out from the find yourself while Muslem in NA or Messaianic sub sect or Lesbian in late 20th cent Canada or POC/ibid or Woman/ibid. There's so many non-standards, and all the beats are 4/4. So competent but not impressive.½

A must-read.

“You have everything you need. I can’t wait for people to see what I’ve known all along—that you’re amazing.”

We Have Always Been Here mi ha lasciato addosso un’enorme gioia, che di questi tempi non è male, e non perché racconti una storia priva di momenti difficili ed eventi traumatici, ma perché riesce a raccontare molto bene la meraviglia di scoprire e riscoprire la propria identità al di là di ogni muro di ignoranza, paura e intolleranza.

È una di quelle storie da leggere per ampliare le nostre conoscenze sulle diversità presenti nelle comunità musulmane, troppo spesso appiattite da una narrazione standard che oscura qualunque punto di vista non si allinei con l’idea che ci siamo fattз di loro: e quel che è peggio è che magari ci convinciamo di saperla lunga solo perché abbiamo sentito le stesse storie in così tante salse diverse che ci pare pure di essere diventatз espertз.

Il brutto di questo appiattimento è che storie importanti che farebbero sentire meno sole le persone incapaci di adeguarsi a quella narrazione rimangono incastrate e non fluiscono nel continuum che ci racconta e ci aiuta a definire i vari aspetti delle nostre identità. Habib cerca di metterci una pezza e raccontare la sua storia di musulmana queer.

Non solo: essendo anche (diventata) una fotografa, Habib è andata in giro a fotografare altre persone musulmane queer, raccontando anche un po’ di loro. Altre piccole storie che si aggiungono al patchwork: vi consiglio di andare a buttarci un occhio.

When I asked Zainab what advice she would give to young queer Muslims who are looking for support and community, her response gave me chills. I still turn to her words for motivation:

“We have always been here, it’s just that the world wasn’t ready for us yet. Today, with all the political upheavals in the Muslim World, some of us, those who are not daily threatened with death or rejection, have to speak for others. They have to tell stories of a community that is either denied or scorned. Together, through facing distinct realities, we should be united—united in the desire to be, in the desire to enjoy being free, safe, and happy. It is not going to be easy and one may never reach a reconciliation with oneself (or with religion), but at least we should care for each other. In face of the challenges, our sense of community and our shared aspirations for a better world should make us stronger.”

One of those books that had been on my shelves for WAY too long before I finally read it, and then once I did I loved it so much I'm embarrassed by how long it took me to get around to it.

I really, REALLY loved this. as a queer Muslim memoir, yes, it contains the conflict and displacement and rejection that you would expect, but it is also SO FILLED with the euphoria of slowly finding/creating yourself, in a way that demonizes no one but fear.

An amazing book.

Such a fascinating story. Samra tells of her young childhood in Pakistan, before her family emigrates to Canada to escape religious persecution. Her family belongs to a sect of Muslims out of favor in Pakistan.

Arriving in Canada, her family forces her into an arranged marriage at a very early age. She doesn't love her new husband, and in fact is so young that she continues to live at home until she's old enough to be a wife (Yikes!).

She manages to divorce this first husband. She attends college, meets and marries her second husband. While this marriage is her choice, she doesn't feel true to herself. As she begins to explore her true feelings and identity, she realizes she queer (her word) and attracted more to women. She finds the courage to leave husband two and live a more authentic life.

Over the course of her 20's she works hard to gain acceptance and embrace her full identity as gay AND Muslim AND brown AND immigrant.

She describes difficult times but the whole story is told with so much warmth and grace. There were a few parts that really stood out for me. When she discovered a mosque that would accept her as both gay and Muslim. And when she eventually reconciles with her parents.

3.5 stars

Samra Habib was still a girl when her entire family came to Canada from Pakistan. They were a part of a minority group of Muslims who were discriminated against in their own country. As she grew up, she knew she didn’t see things the same as her parents and she did not want to marry her cousin in the arranged marriage that had been planned. In fact, she wasn’t interested in men at all, and thought she may be asexual. As an adult, she came to realize that she was, in fact, queer. And she learned how to reconcile that with her Muslim faith.

This was good. It did move quickly and it felt like it skipped forward fast in some cases. It was interesting to read about, though. Have to admit (though that wasn’t the entire purpose of the book!), I found the first half more interesting - the parts that focused on her trying to fit in after she immigrated.½

I decided to read/listen to this book when it was chosen as the winner of the 2020 Canada Reads competition. My pick of the books on the short list was Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club is, I still think, better than this one but I did find this book very interesting.

Habib was raised in Lahore, Pakistan as part of the Ahmadi sect (which I had never heard of until this book). Members of this sect were quite often threatened and abused by Muslims of other sects. The situation became so dire that the family applied to enter Canada as refugees. Canada was relatively safe but Samra was often bullied at school. While she was still young she entered into an arranged marriage with a cousin who had come to Canada with Samra's family. She eventually told her family that she did not want to become a traditional Muslim wife and the marriage was dissolved, but Samra was treated as an outcast in her mosque. She moved in with a male friend from high school which was equally as shocking to her family. So Samra and the friend got married which made the situation marginally better. However, Samra was realizing that she was attracted to women and she started referring to herself as queer. She didn't come out to her parents for some time and when she did they didn't accept her sexuality immediately. Because of her love for them eventually they made amends. Samra also found a Muslim mosque that accepted queer folk as members which helped her. Samra also learned to accept herself as she worked on a photography project documenting other Queer Muslims. She said in an interview on CBC that writing this book was key to understanding herself better. Hopefully it will also be of benefit to other youth dealing with their sexuality.

Habib was born in Pakistan and spent her early years in Lahore. As a member of the Ahmadis, a sect within Islam but one persecuted by other Moslems, she faced injury and even death. Eventually her family moved to Canada for safety reasons and settled in Toronto. Habib's parents organized her marriage when she was a child and she married the man when she was 16 years old. As he indicated that he believed a husband must beat his wife in order to control her, Samra rebelled and the marriage was dissolved.

It took many years until she accepted the fact she was gay and much of the volume is the trials she went through until she came to that point. Her relationship with her family who were very devout Muslims takes up important portions of the book.

Based on her descriptions of life in Pakistan, I cannot say I have any urge to go there. A reading of this volume does give the read a chance at understanding some of the power of Islam. Despite the negative treatment she experienced because of her religion, she still loved it as it provided her with comfort and support.

This was the winner of the 2020 Canada Reads.

As a young girl in Pakistan, Samra Habib faced discrimination because her family belonged to the Ahmadi sect, which is deemed heretical by many other Muslims. When she was a teenager in Canada, Habib faced discrimination for being a refugee, a Muslim, and a South Asian woman. All of these experiences, together with an upbringing by deeply religious parents, meant that Habib internalised a lot of negative messages about gender, sexuality, and her body. Following a disastrous marriage at 16 to a first cousin, and a second failed marriage a few years later, Habib came to an understanding of herself as a queer feminist and over several years learned out to reconcile those aspects of her identity with her Muslim faith.

This is a very necessary memoir, conveying the kind of experiences which are rarely foregrounded in mainstream conversations. Yet there's something about Habib's style of writing which prevents We Have Always Been Here from having as much as impact as I think it could have. Perhaps a side-effect of her training as a journalist, Habib is slightly distant from her own story. We are told about, rather than shown, some major moments in her life; some of her family members and most of her romantic partners remain blurry figures on the periphery of the narrative. Fair enough. There is no requirement for a memoir writer to gut themselves on the page, let alone the people in their life. But I think the book could have been effective even within certain boundaries if Habib hadn't frequently deployed the glossy, homogenised jargon I think of TherapySpeak (you know, everyone's Living Their Truth in order to Be Their Authentic Self).½

**Canada Reads 2020 #3**

Samra is a religious refugee from Pakistan who relocated with her family to Canada in her childhood and grew up wrestling with the tensions between her religious identity and sexual orientation. In this book, she describes that journey and how she was able to reconcile the two in a way that feels like home to her.

The story in this memoir is extraordinary; it is too bad, IMO, that the method of telling it is often so dry. The author is a journalist, and writes in a journalistic style, so it makes sense, but there is often a noticeable distance between the story and the telling of it that blunts its impact.

It's still an extremely good book, and I'm excited to see it defended on CR, and proud that this author made Canada her home.

I'm glad I read this book because it showed me a side of Islam that I was not familiar with. The author is queer (to use her own term), yet attached to her faith, and she finds that she is not alone in being both Muslim and queer. We hear so much about the violent, fanatical sides of Islam that I was happy to learn about a positive aspect of many of that faith. I think this is an important book for both queer Muslims and the rest of us.

That said, I found the book a little dull. The author is a trained journalist and I think she has written about her life more as an observer than as the main character in her own story. I don't feel I know her even after learning about her struggles with faith and sexuality. It wasn't a bad book....just not nearly as interesting as I'd expected.

Habib’s memoir is honest and open, and a much appreciated window into a different way of life to mine. So good that it is now possible to have a range of queer voices telling their stories.

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir
by Samra Habib
due 6-4-2019
Viking
5.0 / 5.0

Samra Habibś journey of self-discovery, while remaining loyal to her deep religious beliefs, is stunning and emotional and revealing. It made me re-consider my thoughts on Islam, organized religion and social privilege.

Samra shares her childhood in Pakistan, growing up in a climate of fear, feeling like an outsider because of her families belief and following of the Ahmadi Movement. It was legal to torture and kill Ahmadi followers by the Sunniś. Her belief in Muhammad has been important to her throughout her life. In 1991, She immigrated to Canada, moving into an apt complex that had other Ahmadi families, but few were Pakistani and she felt very alone.

Samra married twice before realizing she may be queer, Once was an arranged marriage to a first cousin. Until she met other gay people, the possibility of being gay never occurred to her. She realized her sexual identity when it became visible to her. Visibility is so important and essential.

Samra Habibś novel reminds how important allowing all people visibility, all people equal opportunity and all people with respect and dignity. Habib reminds us how human we all are. Itś how humane we treat each other that truly separates us. Highly recommended novel.
Thanks to Random House/Canada, Samra Habib and net galley for this e-book ARC for a fair and honest review.
#netgalley #WeHaveAlwaysBeenHere