Would you risk your own life to pursue justice for a stranger?Two migrant women—separated by geographies and generations—face this same devastating choice.
Lured away from her home in 1890s India, Sita is brought to South Africa as an indentured servant—one among millions funneled by the British to replace the recently abolished slave trade. One hundred years later, Hajra, a Pakistani scholar, is forced to flee to New York City from her home in Peshawar after witnessing a violent act meant to target her. She loses herself in academic research until she comes face-to-face with a photo of a laughing, defiant young woman brandishing a banner in protest. Inexorably drawn to this woman, Hajra travels to South Africa to learn more and unknowingly traces Sita's path.
With raw imagery and rich sensory detail, Roohi Choudhry's incandescent debut novel Outside Women intertwines the narratives of two women painfully yet valiantly carving their existences outside of patriarchal and colonial spaces as they search for kinship and strength in solidarity.
Hi readers! I'm the author of OUTSIDE WOMEN (University Press of Kentucky, March 2025), my debut novel. I was born in Pakistan and grew up in southern Africa. I worked on OUTSIDE WOMEN for a decade -- but in some ways, I’ve been writing the story in my head ever since my family first moved to South Africa. As a teenager, I became obsessed with Durban’s fascinating history.
My path to writing this novel has not been a straightforward one! I worked full time as a researcher for many years and wrote short stories at night and on weekends (and some lunch breaks). Now I work as a freelance writer, editor, and teacher.
“No one has ever recorded women without men to accompany them”—a haunting assertion about history that lies at the heart of “Outside Women.” Roohi Choudhry explores the strength, resilience, and complexity of two migrant women. The story delves into the lives of Sita and Hajra, separated by time and geography, yet united by their shared struggles with patriarchy, colonialism, and their pursuit of justice.
The novel beautifully spans generations and continents. Sita’s story begins as a young woman from India in the 1890s, when she is thrust into an unfamiliar world after being brought to South Africa as an indentured servant. A century later, Hajra flees her home in Peshawar, Pakistan, after witnessing a brutal act intended to harm her. Now in New York City as an academic scholar, Hajra comes across in her research a photo of Sita — a striking image of a woman laughing in a protest. This sparks her fixation with understanding Sita’s life, leading Hajra to embark on a journey to South Africa to uncover more about Sita.
Along the way, Hajra faces many challenges in tracing Sita’s life and heritage. She is confronted with the erasure of women who exist beyond the margins of patriarchy, and the effects of colonialism: “[The] English print cannot help us read the pain snaking across our family trees.”
Through Sita and Hajra’s journeys, Choudhry gives voice to the stories of “outside women” who have long been silenced, offering a powerful reminder of their unbreakable spirit and the transformative power of stepping outside the walls that try to hold them in. Choudhry invites us to reflect on the legacies we inherit and the lives we, as South Asian women, seek to build in a world that often wishes to confine us.
I highly recommend this book that will stay with you long after you finish reading it. It’s a story of two women separated by a century, but connected by parallel experiences. The title, Outside Women, describes the main characters, Sita and Hajra. They are women who live outside the patriarchal norms of their cultures and women who live outside and away from their families and ancestral homes.
The book begins by setting up the life stories of each character. Sita is from British India, and moves as an indentured servant to South Africa in the 1890s. Hajra grew up in Pakistan and is living and studying in New York in the 2000s. Their stories interweave when Hajra travels to Durban for research.
The language in this novel is poetic and precise. The story comes together in a very powerful and dramatic ending. And I keep thinking about the core themes from the book --the choices women make to be independent, the role of protest in culture and what it means to speak up -- after putting it down.
I feel like this really brought to life the experience of indentured South Asians in a way that the facts alone had never really provided. Her own experiences in living in all these places made me appreciate even more her personal interest in these women and wanting to tell their stories. I so appreciate her giving a voice when so many women in a similar position had none. I appreciated the richness of the story that we saw developing held up in such stark contrast to what could be found among the records at another time- and how it was all so dependent on how much they interacted with men or systems that do not really allow women to speak up. Some characters that were really memorable and I really felt for the loss of Sita's childhood relationships. I also think the author walked a fine line beautifully that allowed for aspects of critiquing the patriarchy of the culture but also not falling just to stereotypes and actually letting the characters humorously lean in to the expectations of white people to get out of annoying situations. Sita's relationship as the ayyah also reminded me of parts of Octavia Butler's Kindred- the knowledge that a kid was going to be a part of your future oppression and the ways that their love and current innocence could be so bittersweet.
SPOILER ALERT The places where Sita and Hajra frustrated me were the areas where I felt like they were really impulsive or (especially in the case of Sita) quick to judge and point fingers. In one way, it makes the characters flawed and more realistic- but in other ways, I just wanted to shake Sita when she's getting angry at another person who works at the home for decisions that she makes that don't include her- when this was never a promised part of any plan. Her decision of a way to come up with a life for herself afterwards was so poorly thought out and put so many others in danger. Her anger at the apothecary felt so unfounded but I guess it was also displaced from the life she saw for herself. And for Hajra, I was just frustrated at the conversations with her brother where they both seemed so pigheaded. Why assume he was in the car before asking him - I wanted more from some conversations between them to feel like they had really exhausted some options to explain their point of view to the other. Also I wanted to yell at her for chasing down someone who was a threat to her- though I really appreciated how the hypervigilance both after the attack and seeing Mohsin again was depicted. I think this just comes from being way more risk-averse than them... but also I made decisions like that in my 20s versus current times as well...and this may also be what allows them to take steps to protect others at risk to themselves.
The cover is absolutely gorgeous.
p. 4 "Blond students wearing identical sweatshirts glance and appraise my dark skin. Perhaps they notice my ghosts and take them for foreignness"
p. 99 "I used to stroll these downtown streets without care. True, I was always alert to stares and whistles. I knew how to carry myself; I'd been taught well by the women in my family. Careful not to make unnecessary eye contact. Keep the bounce out of your poised footfalls. In this way, ease your body through the streets like a whisper. If a man oversteps his bounds, create a ruckus. Use the rules that govern this world to support your outrage. But most of the time, tolerate them. Men. Tolerate their occasional incursions into your borders. Once outside your home, the space you occupy is rented.It belongs to them."
p. 155 "Tulsi laughed, and Sita tried to join her but could only manage a weak smile. The other woman's easy language made her uncomfortable. Under her grandmother's tight watch, coarse talk had never been tolerated in their household. But Tulsi's words were also a reminder that Sita was no longer that girl constrained by her family's requirements. No one here cared about her manners. Such freedom also brought a dizzying sense of falling. Without the rules to govern her as tether, she could drift away through night sky."
p. 173 "Himmat is the choice to embrace courage in the face of danger. To be daring. It's a quality no one ever asked of me before. I was raised to be polite. Intelligent, thoughtful,but not too much. Don't splay your limbs in a vulgar manner. Instead, crouch inside whatever crevice you are permitted. For a time, I shouted my convictions out loud. But it was a performance. Other women wear their himmat proudly. I only read about them."
What a beautiful book. A compelling and powerful story, an incredibly researched work of historical fiction, and a reflection on home, immigration, colonialism, patriarchy, protest, and what it means to look for women and resistance - and women’s resistance - in history. I’m grateful to have learned more about a part of history I knew nothing about. I loved this and hope it gets more attention - it’s the best fiction I’ve read in a long time. Meaningful without being didactic; compulsively readable story without being salacious or cliche, or so narrative driven it becomes a history and not a work of literature (the ending is good and right! Reviewers who don’t like it are looking for easy in a complex world, which the book warns against!); vibrant writing without being either preachy or flowery. Just really excellent - didn’t want to put it down until I’d finished it.
Also I love the choice not to make clear narrative or typographical separations between the two stories. You can’t look at a font or chapter title or anything and know “oh this is a Sita/Hajra” chapter and I love that stylistic choice. It challenges the reader, creating on occasion a sense of confusion and accidental/intentional weaving together of the two stories that is a beautiful meta-commentary. Such an excellent choice. I love a novel that demands active reading and a little work from me as a reader! And the point is the fuzzy borders between the stories of these two women, the places where their stories blend together so much they become almost indistinguishable, and also the places where they part (and isn’t the fuzziness of borders - or, more specifically, what it means to cross and recross borders - also part of the point?).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
DNF When I book has so many foreign terms for clothing, food, prayer, familial relationships, and other items/events which I am unfamiliar with, it becomes too tiring for me to read. I don't mind looking up a few unfamiliar works, but this book had too many for me.
I also felt it was meandering around and not going anywhere. I skipped a large portion of the middle of the book and went directly to the end to see if the conclusion would convince me to return to the skipped parts. It didn't. I didn't seem like either story came to a resolution. Both seemed to end with the women finally standing up against injustice, but the reader is never told what the result was. Did they succeed? Were they imprisoned? Were they beaten and left adrift to fend for themselves? I find stories with no clear resolution lacking substance.
It has been a challenge for me to read this book. Many words are from other languages that are unfamiliar to me and not explained. Truly, it is a book of two stories, alternating chapter by chapter. I began confused and it took me 1/3rd of the book to understand that these are two separate women's stories. It took me even longer to realize that I should not expect them to coalize into one family at the end.
All that aside, I really enjoyed both stories written to give a taste about other cultures, how their surroundings looked, and how their characters were surprised by aspects of cultures different than theirs.
Above all, the best of the book was near the end, chapters 24 & 25. these really made me feel that this story was biography and about real people.
OUTSIDE WOMEN is a gorgeous, engrossing, braided phenomenon of a book. Choudhry seamlessly weaves the past and the present in a way that will ultimately leave readers with a gasp in their throats, a deep belief in the beauty of claiming one’s story, and the rich possibility of finding solidarity across time. From the very beginning, I was absorbed in both storylines as I moved with these characters across countries and continents. By the end, I felt a deep sense of sadness that my journey with these “friends” was over. Simply marvelous!
this book has a special place in my heart. It held me everyday to and back from work on the train - I saw the best and worst parts of myself in both hajra and sita. Often times, reading stories with two different timelines could be muddy and lackluster. But hajra and sita’s stories braided together beautifully while also being so different. There were so many times where I had to reread paragraphs to take in all the beautiful and painful details. a beautiful story uncovering a painful and often discarded history. grateful to have read this!
This is an engrossing read about two migrant women who, one hundred years apart, sought justice for another woman and tried to find their place outside the patriarchal system. The details and prose bring the lush and loud worlds to life. It brings into sharp relief that things in society had not changed in the hundred years between Sita and Hajra.
The lives of two women separated by time and place but so similar In this age where the rights of women questioned this book rings true even though a different time and place. The camaraderie of women fighting for like causes brings us together even though miles apart. The author expresses it so eloquently and the reader feels her words to one’s very core.