This impressive collection of work by contemporary British Muslim women is not only timely and important, but it crucially pops the bubble of the notion of the The British Muslim. The texts range a cross genre – fiction, journalism, poetry, commentary and more – and across modes – of critique, of anger, of despair, of the erotic, of the meditative, of location and dislocation – to challenge readers and dominant voices about Muslimah to think and reflect on complexity, difference, diversity and distinctiveness to further explode the definite article. The collection of new and previously published pieces, of new and previously published authors is a sign of Mahfouz’s editorial skill in both allowing piece to speak for themselves and to engage in dialogue with each other and with, in some cases, authors’ other works. Equally, her decision to open with Fadia Faqir’s bitter sweet story of suspicion and end with Hanan al-Shaykh’s tragic tale of alienation, both in distinctive English institutions frames the experiences of British Muslim women as fitting but not fitting, and alien and very much of the place – of ambiguity masking abjection and of silencing.
Some of the strongest pieces, for me, were the poetry – I’d seen some of the poets perform (Mahfouz, Asma Elbadawi and Nafisa Hamid – all impressive, but Elbadawi’s pieces evoked powerfully) – while Seema Begum’s stunning ‘Uomini Cadranno’, written when just 14, portends a major talent. Among the non-fiction, Samira Shackle’s discovery of her Pakistani family’s world paints a picture of never quite fitting and being just fine with that, and Triska Hamid’s delightful ‘Islamic Tinder’ on the perils of on-line dating. Amid all these, many of the pieces reminded me of Ijeoma Umebinyuo’s poem:
So, here you are
too foreign for home
too foreign for here.
Never enough for both.
Yet I don’t want to suggest that these are multiple version of the same story of dislocation: Chimene Suleyman writes of grimey urban lives, of boys finding places in the world while Mahfouz’s playscript ‘Battleface’ unpacks the presumptions of the ‘security services’ in tragicomic form (in that it’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so bloody believably absurd).
As with every collection of this kind, there are pieces that work better than other and some that make little impact – but that’s the way of the smorgasbord. What’s more, I’m sure that next time I pick it up I’ll engage with some pieces quite differently. Even noting that, this is a valuable collection that tempts me to explore some of these writers further.