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Angry Queer Somali Boy: A Complicated Memoir
Kidnapped by his father on the eve of Somalia's societal implosion, Mohamed Ali was taken first to the Netherlands by his stepmother, and then later on to Canada. Unmoored from his birth family and caught between twin alienating forces of Somali tradition and Western culture, Mohamed must forge his own queer coming of age. What follows in this fierce and unrelenting account is a story of one young man's nascent sexuality fused with the violence wrought by displacement.
191 pages, Hardcover
First published October 5, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 89 reviews
December 17, 2020
What strikes me most about this book is the narrator's voice, unflinching and aggressive, which aligns well with the characteristics of the title. But when you realize near the end that this is not an MFA memoir, that the author was still living in a homeless shelter (for the second time) when he wrote it, that the University of Regina Press is working to publish stories from typically unheard voices, I think it takes on another level of impressiveness.
Mohamed flees with his family as war and famine start up in Somalia (the blurb describes this as kidnapping, not quite accurate, but he isn't left with a choice for sure) - instead of London, which is originally the plan, they end up in the Netherlands and then in Toronto, Canada. His "family" is more of a stepfamily, and he is abused from every side. He also experiences racism and Islamophobia of different varieties in each place, compounded by the fact that he is grouped whether he holds those beliefs or not, and it's a struggle because they are difficult to reconcile with his sexual identity.
Family violence leads to homelessness which leads to an inability to stay in school, perpetuating a cycle that does not end in any feelings of hope or reconciliation.
Mohamed flees with his family as war and famine start up in Somalia (the blurb describes this as kidnapping, not quite accurate, but he isn't left with a choice for sure) - instead of London, which is originally the plan, they end up in the Netherlands and then in Toronto, Canada. His "family" is more of a stepfamily, and he is abused from every side. He also experiences racism and Islamophobia of different varieties in each place, compounded by the fact that he is grouped whether he holds those beliefs or not, and it's a struggle because they are difficult to reconcile with his sexual identity.
Family violence leads to homelessness which leads to an inability to stay in school, perpetuating a cycle that does not end in any feelings of hope or reconciliation.
October 20, 2019
Wow, this book was pretty heavy. I’m shook. The immigration story alone hit me so deeply. The fact that one can be sent to live with family members for a “better life” and be stripped away from love. And love is different from relatives to birth parents, it is. Then to be abused — I just have so many conflicting emotions and have heard variations of this story in my own life.
I loved being taken through Toronto through the eyes of Mohamed. Working in the industry of social services I’ve met a few Mohameds in my life — young men who have been through the ringer who are trying to find themselves. It’s always a journey. Sometimes, you get jaded because it becomes that everyone has pain and trouble, but he humanizes the situations many are experiencing on levels. He brings us back to reality, people’s lives, the trauma we face as individuals and that nothing can ever be lumped together. Even in the sidelines of marginalization, we are all unique individuals, with unique stories and none of it can ever be discounted. His book is a lesson in honouring the story of a survivor. I honestly applaud him for sharing these hardcore experiences with us, the reader. Shit was so heavy.
I really like that he’s a total Toronto mans in his delivery of the content. His writing style was highly relatable to the Toronto lifestyle and experience. Some of the coming out story and the self harm was so hard, just the coupling of despair and violence — dark, heavy. But we need these stories. I need these stories. They help me to understand so many things about the lives of others and my own personal challenges. We need the full breath of stories by BIPOC Canadians. I was waiting to read this since I heard about it back in early summer 2019, I’m glad that I got my hands on a copy.
I hope he’s writing more.
I loved being taken through Toronto through the eyes of Mohamed. Working in the industry of social services I’ve met a few Mohameds in my life — young men who have been through the ringer who are trying to find themselves. It’s always a journey. Sometimes, you get jaded because it becomes that everyone has pain and trouble, but he humanizes the situations many are experiencing on levels. He brings us back to reality, people’s lives, the trauma we face as individuals and that nothing can ever be lumped together. Even in the sidelines of marginalization, we are all unique individuals, with unique stories and none of it can ever be discounted. His book is a lesson in honouring the story of a survivor. I honestly applaud him for sharing these hardcore experiences with us, the reader. Shit was so heavy.
I really like that he’s a total Toronto mans in his delivery of the content. His writing style was highly relatable to the Toronto lifestyle and experience. Some of the coming out story and the self harm was so hard, just the coupling of despair and violence — dark, heavy. But we need these stories. I need these stories. They help me to understand so many things about the lives of others and my own personal challenges. We need the full breath of stories by BIPOC Canadians. I was waiting to read this since I heard about it back in early summer 2019, I’m glad that I got my hands on a copy.
I hope he’s writing more.
November 15, 2019
'Angry Queer Somali Boy' is a quintessentially gay story about a young queer boy who was brought to Canada as a refugee, and who then had to become a next-level refugee from his multifariously abusive family when he grew up.
It was Mohamed Ali's dubious luck to be on the inside track of some of history's more interesting recent turns: he was yanked from his mother at the age of 4 as his native Somalia headed towards military catastrophe, and grew up first as an expat in Dubai, toen als asielzoeker in Nederland (then as an asylum seeker in the Netherlands), and finally as a completely Torontonianized young adult in Canada.
His adolescence was spent in the brutish care of a stepmother right out of a Somali Cinderella story, and his being gay and wonderfully, kinkily anomalous was the last broomstraw in their mutual incompatibility. Even then, to extend the Cinderella comparison, the 'ice queen' (his own self-description) glass slippers that magically fit him as a cool queer dude tended to break and cut his feet, and like many gay men who've been shattered out of their former cultural backgrounds, he turned to alcohol and risky adventures in his search for comfort and fascination. But lest this description make the book seem like a sob story, Ali has that killer 'ice queen' wit. It gives him a beautifully frank take on the world that refreshes everything it touches, whether it's tortured family relations, sex with men who want to ingest his excretions, or elevated literature written by the greats of the African diaspora. For example, in describing two white high school chums who tried to assimilate into hip hop culture, he says, "It was not the clothes that made the authority figures uncomfortable (about black Torontonians in saggy rap gear). It was the level of melanin in their skin. Since (the white friends) lacked the key ingredient, they excelled at being black in different ways. They wrote lame rhymes and battled anyone on the sidewalk in front of the school. It was sad but they had the time of their lives. Playing dress-up with black culture was a prerequisite for white male adulthood."
Yo, bruh, I've met those people, too - wallahi. (Toronto highschool slang is Compton meets Kingston meets Aleppo).
Now imagine Ali's terse but intellectual regal tongue being applied, in this short book, to nearly every topic of importance in the Western and Middle Eastern world, including East Africa, and you'll get a sense of the pleasure of reading this piece of writing. Ali is a very perceptive author. Troubles have made him skeptical of many people, but he reciprocates the affection of supportive people glowingly, and all is by no means lost for those readers who, like me, start rooting for his eventual well-being. As with so many gay men, he finds joyous friendship with heterosexual women, in this case mostly black, who intuitively get his fine qualities. Maybe someday there'll be a man who fully gets them, too.
Yeah. I only hope his next piece of autobiography will contain the happy ending, that is, the happy ongoing story, that this book barely tantalizes us with at the end.
It was Mohamed Ali's dubious luck to be on the inside track of some of history's more interesting recent turns: he was yanked from his mother at the age of 4 as his native Somalia headed towards military catastrophe, and grew up first as an expat in Dubai, toen als asielzoeker in Nederland (then as an asylum seeker in the Netherlands), and finally as a completely Torontonianized young adult in Canada.
His adolescence was spent in the brutish care of a stepmother right out of a Somali Cinderella story, and his being gay and wonderfully, kinkily anomalous was the last broomstraw in their mutual incompatibility. Even then, to extend the Cinderella comparison, the 'ice queen' (his own self-description) glass slippers that magically fit him as a cool queer dude tended to break and cut his feet, and like many gay men who've been shattered out of their former cultural backgrounds, he turned to alcohol and risky adventures in his search for comfort and fascination. But lest this description make the book seem like a sob story, Ali has that killer 'ice queen' wit. It gives him a beautifully frank take on the world that refreshes everything it touches, whether it's tortured family relations, sex with men who want to ingest his excretions, or elevated literature written by the greats of the African diaspora. For example, in describing two white high school chums who tried to assimilate into hip hop culture, he says, "It was not the clothes that made the authority figures uncomfortable (about black Torontonians in saggy rap gear). It was the level of melanin in their skin. Since (the white friends) lacked the key ingredient, they excelled at being black in different ways. They wrote lame rhymes and battled anyone on the sidewalk in front of the school. It was sad but they had the time of their lives. Playing dress-up with black culture was a prerequisite for white male adulthood."
Yo, bruh, I've met those people, too - wallahi. (Toronto highschool slang is Compton meets Kingston meets Aleppo).
Now imagine Ali's terse but intellectual regal tongue being applied, in this short book, to nearly every topic of importance in the Western and Middle Eastern world, including East Africa, and you'll get a sense of the pleasure of reading this piece of writing. Ali is a very perceptive author. Troubles have made him skeptical of many people, but he reciprocates the affection of supportive people glowingly, and all is by no means lost for those readers who, like me, start rooting for his eventual well-being. As with so many gay men, he finds joyous friendship with heterosexual women, in this case mostly black, who intuitively get his fine qualities. Maybe someday there'll be a man who fully gets them, too.
Yeah. I only hope his next piece of autobiography will contain the happy ending, that is, the happy ongoing story, that this book barely tantalizes us with at the end.
November 4, 2019
This was a really challenging read for me. Close to home, on a lot of fronts. Ali creates space for himself, despite multiple figures throughout his life + social structures shaping our worlds reiterating that his voice was not relevant / does not matter. There is also a deep commitment to truth-telling on Ali's part, and given Somali socialization/habit of continually sweeping things 'under the rug', I greatly admire him for this. We must name the ugly + violent + traumatic moments or events for exactly what they are. The spiritual + mental health/well-being of our community is dependent on this.
What I couldn't shake while reading this memoir were questions around the audience. Who is Ali writing for? What does it mean/signify that the University of Regina Press published this book? Who will read this work? Soomaalinimo is already vilified in a Canadian context; what does it mean to speak to an experience of Soomaalinimo largely devoid of joy? What does it mean when Ali dips into Islamophobic discourse & maybe even a touch of Western exceptionalism in certain passages? Is it fair that Ali has to even reckon with these questions when recounting the intimate moments of his life? How/when/why do gay Black men take up space in the world of LGBTQIA+ narrative building? What stories are championed in the white Canadian context + which get left behind?
While I maintain that Ali's truths should be honoured, something about his approach made me feel uneasy. Perhaps another re-read will be necessary on my part.
What I couldn't shake while reading this memoir were questions around the audience. Who is Ali writing for? What does it mean/signify that the University of Regina Press published this book? Who will read this work? Soomaalinimo is already vilified in a Canadian context; what does it mean to speak to an experience of Soomaalinimo largely devoid of joy? What does it mean when Ali dips into Islamophobic discourse & maybe even a touch of Western exceptionalism in certain passages? Is it fair that Ali has to even reckon with these questions when recounting the intimate moments of his life? How/when/why do gay Black men take up space in the world of LGBTQIA+ narrative building? What stories are championed in the white Canadian context + which get left behind?
While I maintain that Ali's truths should be honoured, something about his approach made me feel uneasy. Perhaps another re-read will be necessary on my part.
November 16, 2023
4☆ — very impressed by this debut by the writer who is a gay somali man, rendered in beautiful prose that is characterised by a haunting sadness and unflinching anger. there is an ache that we as the reader can feel radiating from the pages, as the writer tells us of his experience growing up gay, black, and muslim under an abusive environment and grappling with addiction. a heavily underrated memoir that i would definitely recommend. add this to your shelves now !
July 23, 2020
The story of Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali's childhood and adolescence was fascinating, as he escaped the Somalian Civil War, and grew up in both the Netherlands and Canada. Although he has experienced various hardships as an LGBTQ+ individual grappling between his adopted countries and his Somali background, he retells them in a way that is captivating. I particularly enjoyed his great insight on how societies in his respective countries operate, where he bluntly focused on immigrants and how they are treated. As a WOC who grew up in Toronto, he really delves into the aspect of how Canada portrays itself as a just and fair society, despite the reality of Toronto's marginalized neighbourhoods being the opposite of what is being preached.
Although the book is relatively short and fast paced, and contained various insightful things, I found that the author tended to ramble onto different topics that were interesting, but didn't feel tied into the rest of the book. Nevertheless, this book unapologetically captures aspects of immigrant life and navigating your intersecting identities.
Although the book is relatively short and fast paced, and contained various insightful things, I found that the author tended to ramble onto different topics that were interesting, but didn't feel tied into the rest of the book. Nevertheless, this book unapologetically captures aspects of immigrant life and navigating your intersecting identities.
December 14, 2022
SO AMAZING. This is not an easy book to read (or talk about) and I have many things to say. I will say them very soon once I collect my thoughts! But wow, this is a read of the year for me.
December 21, 2021
2.5 stars rounded up to 3. Mohammed has an extremely compelling and heart wrenching story. Kidnapped by his father and then taken to Netherlands and then Canada by his stepmother. Abused by his stepmother and siblings, he struggles to find the balance between his Somali heritage and western upbringing and how, as a Queer man, he fits in. Spoiler alert: he wrote this book while living in a Toronto homeless shelter.
While compelling, it felt like just tiny little nuggets of what could have been so much more. I constantly felt like he was just saying ‘and then I did this…and then I did that….and then I went here …and then I went there’. So many parts of this book could have been elaborated into so much more and instead they said so very little.
While compelling, it felt like just tiny little nuggets of what could have been so much more. I constantly felt like he was just saying ‘and then I did this…and then I did that….and then I went here …and then I went there’. So many parts of this book could have been elaborated into so much more and instead they said so very little.
November 23, 2022
I wanted to like this book, but I don't. I just don't.
January 25, 2020
Somewhere between a diary and a college essay, the oddly distant prose oddly juxtaposes casual recounting of a complicated life, against shocking incidents matter-of-factly stated. He remarks insightfully on context but glances over underlying traumas, misdirecting us (himself?) with provocative incidents that feel more like a distraction from critical reflection. This book will stay with me as a portrait of a radically different lived experience, but may be hard to recommend.
July 9, 2020
This is a hard one to review. I finished it a couple of days ago and I'm still thinking about it. It's a very heavy memoir. If you are going to read it, there a lot of trigger warnings.
The description really says it all. This book is really unrelenting for its 191 pages. I would recommend it but be prepared for the darkness.
The description really says it all. This book is really unrelenting for its 191 pages. I would recommend it but be prepared for the darkness.
September 12, 2020
This was difficult to read. The author had a difficult and chaotic upbringing and probably needed an outlet for all the (justified) anger. It gave me a perspective of Toronto and its suburbs that is totally foreign to my own experience with these same places. A perspective I feel grateful for - that I needed to hear.
December 10, 2019
Interesting read, about a young boy from Somalia who is taken to the Netherlands, and then Canada escaping violence and war in his birth country. Not only does he have to adapt to live in another country, but growing up gay in an traditional Somali cultural family, in a Western country has to be "complicated" indeed! The writing is honest, and heartfelt, and sometimes humorous. He resides with an strict and abusive family filled with racism and hate. He's determined to find joy in his life. I hope we hear more from him.
October 25, 2021
“Was identity tied to a piece of land or was it a state of mind?” Ah, ah! what a beautiful piece of writing, this really hit home. May the Somali community continue to grow, cause, lord knows we fucking need it.
November 5, 2021
Simple. Straightforward with no hidden agenda. Painfully honest and genuine. An unobstructed view into Ali’s life thus far. Very touching.
Read
April 25, 2023A friend won several copies from a local bookshop, a couple years back, and gifted one to me.
This book is important and I’m grateful to have read it. I wanted more. It zipped by, feelings of whiplash as Ali describes moving countries and schools and homes (likely the point). At times, I found shifts in voice between the academic, the memoir, and the casual jarring.
Anger is valid and I’m glad to have read another contribution to the space of angry writing.
This book is important and I’m grateful to have read it. I wanted more. It zipped by, feelings of whiplash as Ali describes moving countries and schools and homes (likely the point). At times, I found shifts in voice between the academic, the memoir, and the casual jarring.
Anger is valid and I’m glad to have read another contribution to the space of angry writing.
January 25, 2020
Thanks, Book Riot and your Read Harder challenge, for challenging me to read outside my normal genre. Tasked with finding a debut novel by a queer author, I stumbled upon this little gem at my local library. Novel, however, it is not.
I am struggling with the review of this memoir. The writing was enough to keep me interested and reading past the very disturbing parts but I was desperately ready to stop reading such a depressing and sad book. And then, I remembered that THIS WAS A TRUE STORY. And my empathy kicked back in and I couldn't believe that there were children all around the world who are experiencing such conditions.
All in all, this is an EXTREMELY graphic memoir with both sex and violence that I probably could have gone my entire life without reading. But, I'm glad that it was able to open my eyes and my heart to the plight of the Somali refugee. Definitely something I could use more of.
I am struggling with the review of this memoir. The writing was enough to keep me interested and reading past the very disturbing parts but I was desperately ready to stop reading such a depressing and sad book. And then, I remembered that THIS WAS A TRUE STORY. And my empathy kicked back in and I couldn't believe that there were children all around the world who are experiencing such conditions.
All in all, this is an EXTREMELY graphic memoir with both sex and violence that I probably could have gone my entire life without reading. But, I'm glad that it was able to open my eyes and my heart to the plight of the Somali refugee. Definitely something I could use more of.
May 11, 2023
2.5 - Buckle up, this is going to be a long one.
The tl;dr review – This book was far too short for what I feel Mohamed was trying to accomplish/say. I very much disliked the first half, but enjoyed the second half.
This book actually popped up as a recommendation for me after reading Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and I was eager to read and hear from a different Somali voice and perspective. I’ll be honest though, I wasn’t prepared for him to tear into Ayaan the way he does. He was quick to highlight her years spent in Kenya as a child, but neglects the far more numerous years spent in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, and Ethopia. He accuses her of being a post-9/11 ex-muslim, which made it clear to me that he must not have read her entire book that highlights her multiple decades of struggling with her Islamic faith and the pain of constant oppression she faced by its followers.
At one point he compares the fact that he had become a Dutch refugee by lying, “but so had Ayaan” … as if their two background were even close to being the same. Ayaan, the daughter of one of Barre’s political opponents, a woman who had lost family members during the political unrest and violence in the civil war and change of government powers, held down without medicine by her grandmother while she suffered genital mutilation, gets married off to a guy despite not wanting to, in a country that notoriously oppresses women. Her true story likely would’ve granted her refugee status regardless without any lie needed, she only exacerbated her story to guarantee it. So yeah, not the same story. I’m not sure why him dissing Ayaan bothered me so much, but it did.
But I digress.
This story is written by Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali who was taken from his mom by his father, only to be severely abused by his stepmother who then takes him to the Netherlands and gets them refugee visas (he was not kidnapped). There, the abuse continues with violence and even forcing him to disguise his voice as a young girl and participate in phone sex. Years later, he found out that his father had known about the abuse the entire time and never discouraged it.
They ultimately end up moving to Toronto. There, he was met with racism and discrimination, something he admits to regretfully have partaken in by describing the anti-black perspective and problematic view imbedded within the minds of many Arabs. He then moves on to discuss how moving to the other side of the world highlighted the racial issues he was immune to realizing by having been engulfed in Dutch culture, and having been attempting to conform to it. This later changes as he begins exploring himself, his culture, and the other black cultures around him. He begins highlighting his realizations with this, pointing out the racist and/or anti-blackness attitudes in predominately white nations as well as within Abrahamic religions and the philosophies they preach.
This was, to me, the most interesting part of the book as it showed a profound character development. Mohamed discovers the issue of racism being embedded systematically into schools with the books they read, the idols they keep, the fact that one of the schools was an old residential school responsible for the death of countless indigenous children. I wish this part were expanded on a bit more, because there is a lot more to be talked about there.
After this, the book moves more into his sexuality, struggle with alcoholism, and other gut wrenching sadness and struggles.
Throughout the book, he struggles to connect to the Dutch and Canadian cultures he’s been dragged into. He takes quite a few jabs at Canada and the Netherlands throughout the first part of the book. This was interesting to me because he never really talked about his other alternative, Somalia. It seems like he knew this was somehow his fate and that there was no use in making comparisons since returning was not on his list of options as a gay man. He doesn’t reminisce over his short time in Somalia and his time with his mother. He doesn’t really discuss any of the politics or violence in Somalia throughout this book at all.
Also, did he really need to refer to women as “bitches” that many times in this book?
The tl;dr review – This book was far too short for what I feel Mohamed was trying to accomplish/say. I very much disliked the first half, but enjoyed the second half.
This book actually popped up as a recommendation for me after reading Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and I was eager to read and hear from a different Somali voice and perspective. I’ll be honest though, I wasn’t prepared for him to tear into Ayaan the way he does. He was quick to highlight her years spent in Kenya as a child, but neglects the far more numerous years spent in Somalia, Saudi Arabia, and Ethopia. He accuses her of being a post-9/11 ex-muslim, which made it clear to me that he must not have read her entire book that highlights her multiple decades of struggling with her Islamic faith and the pain of constant oppression she faced by its followers.
At one point he compares the fact that he had become a Dutch refugee by lying, “but so had Ayaan” … as if their two background were even close to being the same. Ayaan, the daughter of one of Barre’s political opponents, a woman who had lost family members during the political unrest and violence in the civil war and change of government powers, held down without medicine by her grandmother while she suffered genital mutilation, gets married off to a guy despite not wanting to, in a country that notoriously oppresses women. Her true story likely would’ve granted her refugee status regardless without any lie needed, she only exacerbated her story to guarantee it. So yeah, not the same story. I’m not sure why him dissing Ayaan bothered me so much, but it did.
But I digress.
This story is written by Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali who was taken from his mom by his father, only to be severely abused by his stepmother who then takes him to the Netherlands and gets them refugee visas (he was not kidnapped). There, the abuse continues with violence and even forcing him to disguise his voice as a young girl and participate in phone sex. Years later, he found out that his father had known about the abuse the entire time and never discouraged it.
They ultimately end up moving to Toronto. There, he was met with racism and discrimination, something he admits to regretfully have partaken in by describing the anti-black perspective and problematic view imbedded within the minds of many Arabs. He then moves on to discuss how moving to the other side of the world highlighted the racial issues he was immune to realizing by having been engulfed in Dutch culture, and having been attempting to conform to it. This later changes as he begins exploring himself, his culture, and the other black cultures around him. He begins highlighting his realizations with this, pointing out the racist and/or anti-blackness attitudes in predominately white nations as well as within Abrahamic religions and the philosophies they preach.
This was, to me, the most interesting part of the book as it showed a profound character development. Mohamed discovers the issue of racism being embedded systematically into schools with the books they read, the idols they keep, the fact that one of the schools was an old residential school responsible for the death of countless indigenous children. I wish this part were expanded on a bit more, because there is a lot more to be talked about there.
After this, the book moves more into his sexuality, struggle with alcoholism, and other gut wrenching sadness and struggles.
Throughout the book, he struggles to connect to the Dutch and Canadian cultures he’s been dragged into. He takes quite a few jabs at Canada and the Netherlands throughout the first part of the book. This was interesting to me because he never really talked about his other alternative, Somalia. It seems like he knew this was somehow his fate and that there was no use in making comparisons since returning was not on his list of options as a gay man. He doesn’t reminisce over his short time in Somalia and his time with his mother. He doesn’t really discuss any of the politics or violence in Somalia throughout this book at all.
Also, did he really need to refer to women as “bitches” that many times in this book?
July 27, 2022
excellent voice
Read
June 23, 2020The subtitle to this book is "A Complicated Memoir," and I have to say, I couldn't agree more. Mo's story is raw, it's real, and it's difficult to read from a place of privilege. His life experiences do help the reader understand race and class segregation, particularly among refugees (and in Mo's case, a queer refugee). The difficulty of the subject matter is good--I want to feel uncomfortable when I'm reading experiences such as Mo's. But the difficulty of the writing style made the book hard to read. There were many names thrown around once or twice, places that seemed to have meaning and then didn't--the character development was lacking (yes, this is non-fiction--but I still need to empathize with the protagonist or understand his relations with others). The only strong character development was that of his stepmother. It's a wonderful (concise) text to read to try to better empathize with those who have had very different experiences, but be prepared to say to yourself, "Wait, what?" and have to re-read entire sections of the book to fully grasp Mo's message.
June 6, 2025
Angry Queer Somali Boy is a raw, unflinching, and deeply personal memoir that explores identity, addiction, displacement, and queerness with striking honesty. Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali writes with sharp clarity and vulnerability as he recounts his journey from Somalia to the Netherlands to Canada, navigating the intersections of trauma, race, and sexuality. Though brief, the memoir is emotionally powerful and layered, offering an important perspective rarely seen in queer or immigrant narratives. It's an essential, thought-provoking read.
January 28, 2020
Ali has some fascinating stories to tell, but I'm not sure they're well told here. At times, his matter of fact recitation of events is quite effective, especially when his stories veer towards the violent and disturbing. However, overall his writing rambles and the book lacks a narrative structure. It's an interesting life, one that I appreciated learning about, but not necessarily a great memoir.
January 21, 2020
Was not expecting all the feels from this book. Raw, matter-of-fact memoir of the life of one Somali immigrant. It’s an exploration of Toronto from the prospective of someone at the fringes. And as a Dutch-Canadian, it gave me a lot to reflect on. Just....wow.
June 30, 2025
Not quite sure what to even say about this one. The life the author has led was truly horrifying and my heart went out to him while I was reading this book. I wonder what his life might have been if it had been populated with a family that showed him any amount of love.
February 12, 2021
“Was identity tied to a piece of land or was it a state of mind?”
For 2021, I have vowed to read more underrated books esp those pushed to the fringes; and queer, Black and Muslim voices are one such stories. I love reading BIPOC stories intersecting between queerness and religion; add to that being immigrant and there’s layers of displacement, identity and belonging struggle. It’s like a minority within a minority, within a minority.
As Somalia stands on the brink of a civil war, at four years of age, Ali is taken away from his mother by his father who leaves him with his second wife and step siblings for better future prospects as they seek asylum in Europe. Ali’s memoir chronicles his nomadic life starting from Mogadishu and ending up in Toronto and it’s a story that is raw, brutal and harrowing with graphic details of physical and sexual abuse, drug addiction and self-harm.
As a child in Netherlands, Ali was pressured to assimilate under the Dutch culture while in Canada not only he had to battle White Supremacy but different shades of ethnic racism present among the Black, African and West Indian communities bringing to light the level of structural racism and glaring bigotry in Toronto’s diverse and poor neighbourhoods. Post 9/11, Ali an immigrant and a Muslim found himself “not black enough” and pilfered cultural identity from one marginalized group to another for some sense of belonging.
““Since our student body was overwhelmingly of colour, many teachers saw their role primarily as government-paid babysitters for a bunch of unruly savages. It was common for guidance counsellors to discourage students from taking academic courses or applying to universities. The relationships between the white teaching staff and the largely brown and black student body prepared many of us for the cruel reality of a racist society and the undermining of our abilities.”
While the writing is pretty straight forward, in depth snippets on historical and current racism, the regressive traditions within their communities and socio-political commentary is something profound.
And despite the turbulent, dysfunctional family, risqué love affairs, internal turmoil with faith and a growing alcohol addiction, Ali's voice has this unrelenting resilience that left me in awe and broke my heart.
Recommend 💯
For 2021, I have vowed to read more underrated books esp those pushed to the fringes; and queer, Black and Muslim voices are one such stories. I love reading BIPOC stories intersecting between queerness and religion; add to that being immigrant and there’s layers of displacement, identity and belonging struggle. It’s like a minority within a minority, within a minority.
As Somalia stands on the brink of a civil war, at four years of age, Ali is taken away from his mother by his father who leaves him with his second wife and step siblings for better future prospects as they seek asylum in Europe. Ali’s memoir chronicles his nomadic life starting from Mogadishu and ending up in Toronto and it’s a story that is raw, brutal and harrowing with graphic details of physical and sexual abuse, drug addiction and self-harm.
As a child in Netherlands, Ali was pressured to assimilate under the Dutch culture while in Canada not only he had to battle White Supremacy but different shades of ethnic racism present among the Black, African and West Indian communities bringing to light the level of structural racism and glaring bigotry in Toronto’s diverse and poor neighbourhoods. Post 9/11, Ali an immigrant and a Muslim found himself “not black enough” and pilfered cultural identity from one marginalized group to another for some sense of belonging.
““Since our student body was overwhelmingly of colour, many teachers saw their role primarily as government-paid babysitters for a bunch of unruly savages. It was common for guidance counsellors to discourage students from taking academic courses or applying to universities. The relationships between the white teaching staff and the largely brown and black student body prepared many of us for the cruel reality of a racist society and the undermining of our abilities.”
While the writing is pretty straight forward, in depth snippets on historical and current racism, the regressive traditions within their communities and socio-political commentary is something profound.
And despite the turbulent, dysfunctional family, risqué love affairs, internal turmoil with faith and a growing alcohol addiction, Ali's voice has this unrelenting resilience that left me in awe and broke my heart.
Recommend 💯
October 14, 2020
Content warning: child abuse (physical), sexual assault, substance abuse/addiction, self-injury, suicide, female genital mutilation, racism, homophobia.
This short memoir was a challenging but powerful read. In his choppy and blunt writing style, Ali tells his harrowing story of leaving Somalia as a refugee with his step-mother, passing through the United Arab Emirates before spending much of his childhood in the Netherlands, and then moving in his early teens to Canada in the late 90s, just in time to experience post 9-11 Islamophobic violence as a young black boy named Mohamed. Although his step-mother is ostensibly saving him from the violence of war in Somalia, he instead suffers her violence of daily severe physical and psychological abuse. He copes with this violence, as well as the suppression of his queerness, in various self-harming and anti-social ways, from getting into fights and starting fires, to self-injuring, to drug and alcohol abuse. These are the only means available to him. He is, at one point, identified as a sociopath, which calls into question the innateness of this designation; culturally, we think of it as a brain problem, but Ali's behaviour is so clearly linked to the intense trauma he is experiencing.
The narrative is an indictment of both the Netherlands and Canada, dismantling the notion of them as these peaceful pastoral places that are safe havens for refugees. He reveals the violence of whiteness and white people, which he experiences even from white friends who use him or exotify him, keeping him as a friend only while it suits them. It comes from the erasure of colonialism from our histories. It comes from cops, teachers, social workers. These kind of stories that disrupt the narrative of Canada the good are so necessary if we have any hope of doing better.
This short memoir was a challenging but powerful read. In his choppy and blunt writing style, Ali tells his harrowing story of leaving Somalia as a refugee with his step-mother, passing through the United Arab Emirates before spending much of his childhood in the Netherlands, and then moving in his early teens to Canada in the late 90s, just in time to experience post 9-11 Islamophobic violence as a young black boy named Mohamed. Although his step-mother is ostensibly saving him from the violence of war in Somalia, he instead suffers her violence of daily severe physical and psychological abuse. He copes with this violence, as well as the suppression of his queerness, in various self-harming and anti-social ways, from getting into fights and starting fires, to self-injuring, to drug and alcohol abuse. These are the only means available to him. He is, at one point, identified as a sociopath, which calls into question the innateness of this designation; culturally, we think of it as a brain problem, but Ali's behaviour is so clearly linked to the intense trauma he is experiencing.
The narrative is an indictment of both the Netherlands and Canada, dismantling the notion of them as these peaceful pastoral places that are safe havens for refugees. He reveals the violence of whiteness and white people, which he experiences even from white friends who use him or exotify him, keeping him as a friend only while it suits them. It comes from the erasure of colonialism from our histories. It comes from cops, teachers, social workers. These kind of stories that disrupt the narrative of Canada the good are so necessary if we have any hope of doing better.
June 16, 2020
This small book packs a punch. It is the true story of Mohamed's birth in Somalia and childhood in the Netherlands and Canada as he comes to terms with his queer identity and wrestles with how to be gay and respectful of his Somali culture. He describes many horrible experiences, including child abuse, addiction, mental health struggle and homelessness. These are described in great detail, so if you have had any of those experiences, this book may trigger you. I personally loved this book for its spunk, honesty and what I learned about Somali politics and culture. I also liked that since Mohamed is close to my age, I understood his cultural references and remembered the events he refers to in his book firsthand as I too spent my teenage years in Toronto. In addition to his own life story, Mohamed includes his opinion on the Toronto police's handling of crimes by black men, and explores why his abusive stepmother discouraged him from identifying as "black: although he was born in East Africa. This book is not for the faint of heart, but it is a beautifully written page-turner and a powerful story of one gay man's resilience as he comes to terms with his racial and sexual identity. A brilliant debut!
March 2, 2022
Uneasy, sometimes difficult read. Many triggering warnings in this book. From self-harm, abuse, mutilation, suicide, racism, homophobia, questions place/religion/love/acceptance. There were many times I wanted more, and then times I needed to put the book down.
The book is raw, leaving the reader with things to reflect on. The book was fitting to how Ali has dealt with his life. It is a diary pose sometimes, history essay sometimes, he rambles on about interesting parts of history and his experiences, but does not dive deep. He also does not dive deep, into relationships, into feelings.
This story made me realize I have read so little of male coming to age stories, and I need to read more stories of men coming to age. He finds friendship in mostly hetrosexual black women - and you hope that he can find this level of intimacy with a man some day. This read made me think a lot about pro-sex talks with my kids, and how to engage in your desires without harm (self or others).
Spolier:
This story left me feeling uneasy - a boy still living homeless, who had just asked for help. I hope the next story finds a happier ending/life.
The book is raw, leaving the reader with things to reflect on. The book was fitting to how Ali has dealt with his life. It is a diary pose sometimes, history essay sometimes, he rambles on about interesting parts of history and his experiences, but does not dive deep. He also does not dive deep, into relationships, into feelings.
This story made me realize I have read so little of male coming to age stories, and I need to read more stories of men coming to age. He finds friendship in mostly hetrosexual black women - and you hope that he can find this level of intimacy with a man some day. This read made me think a lot about pro-sex talks with my kids, and how to engage in your desires without harm (self or others).
Spolier:
This story left me feeling uneasy - a boy still living homeless, who had just asked for help. I hope the next story finds a happier ending/life.
May 25, 2021
This book was recommended to me by CBC for those who loved Joshua Whitehead’s “Johnny Appleseed”. I am so delighted to have taken this rec because this book was devastatingly stunning, and powerful. From Somalia, to a brief stint in the Emirates, to the Netherlands, to Canada, Mo had quite the displaced upbringing, trying to find himself as a queer man while navigating constant violence at the hands of his step-family. It was also interesting how he felt a great detachment from his Muslim identity since it had been associated with his family’s abuse, for him. The last chapter of this book was heartbreaking, but at the same time, hinted at a sense of rebirth and redemption. While the prose was simple and direct, it really felt authentic to Mo and his his lived experience; he is a captivating storyteller. While this was a brief book, I felt like I could have read much more, since this was such an engaging and beautiful read.
December 16, 2025
The book starts off strong due to the author’s unique voice and perspective on life. There is an intellectual understanding of the historical and sociopolitical factors that have shaped his current life circumstances. However, the book slowly delves into angry journal-entry type prose against all those who treated him poorly. The author could have provided more depth in understanding why the people inflicting pain on him were lost causes instead of simply resorting to name calling them in the book. As an “ex-Muslim” myself, I could relate to the unique perspective of rejecting Islam while simultaneously rejecting Islamophobia, but the book quickly loses its central thesis and resorts to short unrelated daily life experiences around Toronto. It’s still an interesting read for someone how grew up marginalized in Toronto to have a similar story be told but lacks emotional depth and understanding of the traumas exacerbated in these experiences.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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