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Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen
From a god-fearing Muslim boy enraptured with their mother, to a vocal, queer drag queen estranged from their family, this is a heart-breaking and hilarious memoir about the author’s fight to be true to themself
My name is Amrou Al-Kadhi – by day. By night, I am Glamrou, an empowered, fearless and acerbic drag queen who wears seven-inch heels and says the things that nobody else dares to.
Growing up in a strict Iraqi Muslim household, it didn’t take long for me to realise I was different. When I was ten years old, I announced to my family that I was in love with Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone. The resultant fallout might best be described as something like the Iraqi version of Jerry Springer: The Opera. And that was just the beginning.
This is the story of how I got from there to here: about my teenage obsession with marine biology, and how fluid aquatic life helped me understand my non-binary gender identity; about my two-year scholarship at Eton college, during which I wondered if I could forge a new identity as a British aristocrat (spoiler alert: it didn’t work); about discovering the transformative powers of drag while at university (and how I very nearly lost my mind after I left); and about how, after years of rage towards it, I finally began to understand Islam in a new, queer way.
Most of all, this is a book about my mother. It’s the journey of how we lost and found each other, about forgiveness, understanding, hope – and the life-long search for belonging.
My name is Amrou Al-Kadhi – by day. By night, I am Glamrou, an empowered, fearless and acerbic drag queen who wears seven-inch heels and says the things that nobody else dares to.
Growing up in a strict Iraqi Muslim household, it didn’t take long for me to realise I was different. When I was ten years old, I announced to my family that I was in love with Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone. The resultant fallout might best be described as something like the Iraqi version of Jerry Springer: The Opera. And that was just the beginning.
This is the story of how I got from there to here: about my teenage obsession with marine biology, and how fluid aquatic life helped me understand my non-binary gender identity; about my two-year scholarship at Eton college, during which I wondered if I could forge a new identity as a British aristocrat (spoiler alert: it didn’t work); about discovering the transformative powers of drag while at university (and how I very nearly lost my mind after I left); and about how, after years of rage towards it, I finally began to understand Islam in a new, queer way.
Most of all, this is a book about my mother. It’s the journey of how we lost and found each other, about forgiveness, understanding, hope – and the life-long search for belonging.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published September 24, 2019
102 people are currently reading
8068 people want to read
About the author
Amrou Al-Kadhi
6 books74 followersAmrou Al-Kadhi is the founder of drag troupe Denim and has several TV shows currently in development. Amrou has written an episode for Kumail Nanjiani & Emily V. Gordon’s upcoming series for Apple (US), Little America, as well as for BBC America’s hotly anticipated series, The Watch. Amrou has written and directed four short films and has features in development with Film4, the BFI and BBC films. Their journalism has appeared in the Guardian, the Independent, Gay Times, Attitude, CNN and Little White Lies, among other publications. Unicorn is Amrou’s first book.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 462 reviews
September 29, 2019
Amrou Al-Khadhi writes a remarkably poignant, profoundly moving and unflinching memoir of his challenging life coming from an Iraqi Muslim conservative family to become Glamrou, an exuberant, confident, acerbic, gay drag queen, saying all the things that Amrou himself cannot. It begins with a performance in Edinburgh that is to prove pivotal in re-evaluating himself in terms of his religious faith, family and sense of identity, when a group of hajib wearing Muslim women in the front row result in him falling apart backstage. Amrou and Rafy are twin brothers, with Amrou growing up close to his beloved fashion conscious mother and all things feminine, and Rafy closer to his father, and all things masculine, such as football. In this memoir, he reflects, warts and all, on growing up constantly seeking the attention and love of his mother, the hostility to who he is and the policing of his sexuality by his family, attending Eton, and going to Cambridge, where he helped establish the drag troupe, Denim and the character of Glamrou, and his mental health issues.
Amrou outlines his traumatic and damaging years at Eton with its racism, bullying, Islamaphobia, and some of its controlling and manipulative students that reinforced his personal sense of failure, worthlessness and fuel his growing self hatred, where his dreams to identify as a English gentleman are destined to burn to ashes right from the start. He portrays his experiences with drugs and chemsex, giving the reader a well thought out, painful but insightful look at what being a man entails, masculinity, and the gay community, with its well known homophobia, racism, the often problematic perceptions of drag queens, and the surrounding issues of power and control, and its cultural biases against Islam. Of particular interest to me was how marine biology helped Amrou to actualise his identity as a non-binary aquatic being, with a 'they' pronoun, and how quantum physics contributed to validating who he is.
It is with a sense of relief that I read of how Rafy helped Amrou and his parents come to terms with each other and reconnect, I was particularly touched by how Amrou slowly becomes aware of the pressures that his mother faced with his father, and of the partriarchal system that deny women the right to be who they are. This is an inspirational read, smart, thought provoking, and fascinating at how Amrou shifts his perspectives on Islam, to see how it incorporated all that he is and belonged to him, an integral part of him as he comes to own it. I was so thankful to see how he returned to his family roots, in particular his mother, and came to understand her better. This is a memoir so worth reading, there is so much to learn from it, so much more than just being a gay muslim drag queen, ultimately it is about the complexities of what it is to be human. Highly recommended. Many thanks to HarperCollins 4th Estate.
Amrou outlines his traumatic and damaging years at Eton with its racism, bullying, Islamaphobia, and some of its controlling and manipulative students that reinforced his personal sense of failure, worthlessness and fuel his growing self hatred, where his dreams to identify as a English gentleman are destined to burn to ashes right from the start. He portrays his experiences with drugs and chemsex, giving the reader a well thought out, painful but insightful look at what being a man entails, masculinity, and the gay community, with its well known homophobia, racism, the often problematic perceptions of drag queens, and the surrounding issues of power and control, and its cultural biases against Islam. Of particular interest to me was how marine biology helped Amrou to actualise his identity as a non-binary aquatic being, with a 'they' pronoun, and how quantum physics contributed to validating who he is.
It is with a sense of relief that I read of how Rafy helped Amrou and his parents come to terms with each other and reconnect, I was particularly touched by how Amrou slowly becomes aware of the pressures that his mother faced with his father, and of the partriarchal system that deny women the right to be who they are. This is an inspirational read, smart, thought provoking, and fascinating at how Amrou shifts his perspectives on Islam, to see how it incorporated all that he is and belonged to him, an integral part of him as he comes to own it. I was so thankful to see how he returned to his family roots, in particular his mother, and came to understand her better. This is a memoir so worth reading, there is so much to learn from it, so much more than just being a gay muslim drag queen, ultimately it is about the complexities of what it is to be human. Highly recommended. Many thanks to HarperCollins 4th Estate.
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December 18, 2021Oof. This was … a lot. But it’s very powerful and very beautiful, and explores of lot of not-so-visible intersectional spaces: gender-fluidity, queerness, race, religion, class. It goes to dark and complicated places, and is definitely not an easy read, though I will say Amrou’s sharp wit keeps the narrative from sinking too deeply into the darkness.
It feels appropriative as fuck to say I felt some sense of connection here but the way Amrou talks about queerness and alienation, about the way we search for belonging when our selves are in chaos, the need to create an narrative of who we are from the fragments the world allows us … gah … it just hit me really hard. Also, on separate occasions, Amrou searches for meaning and identity in both marine biology and quantum physics: I mean, how could I not connect? And I hope it’s okay for me to say that. And to recognise a little of myself here, while claiming no ownership of a story that is very, very much not mine. Especially because as a white British person I’m inherently complicit in several of the systems of oppression Amrou has to navigate.
One of the most fascinating threads in the book is Amrou’s troubled relationship with his mother. They’re very close when Amrou is growing up but thee bond becomes fractured around Amrou’s need to express and live their queer identity. Amrou’s family are complex mixture of supportive (it’s clear throughout the book they sincerely love Amrou—if it is possible, that is, to love someone without accepting who they are) and very conservative (with all the tensions and the hypocrisies that entails). Needless to say, this creates a profoundly damaging dynamic for Amrou, the impact of which is felt throughout the narrative and probably will be felt by them for the rest of their life. But there is something of a reconciliation at the very end of the book (paralleling to some degree Amrou’s reconciliation with their faith) where they have a very painful talk, in which it becomes clear that it’s hard for Amrou’s mother to accept their queerness, and the way they embrace the more feminine aspects of their identity, because for Amrou’s mother masculinity is freedom, and being a kind of prison. Whereas, of course, for Amrou heteronormative masculinity was the prison. Oof. I say again. Oof.
Anyway I sincerely, deeply and with all my heart recommend this. Content guidance for emotional abuse, sexual abuse, just about every possible phobia going (Islamophobia, racism, queerphobia, femmephobia) so, as ever, do take care of yourself first and foremost. But this is a book that needs to read. It is so very full of important things, terrible things, beautiful things. I will be thinking about it for a long time.
Also I might have cried at the end.
It feels appropriative as fuck to say I felt some sense of connection here but the way Amrou talks about queerness and alienation, about the way we search for belonging when our selves are in chaos, the need to create an narrative of who we are from the fragments the world allows us … gah … it just hit me really hard. Also, on separate occasions, Amrou searches for meaning and identity in both marine biology and quantum physics: I mean, how could I not connect? And I hope it’s okay for me to say that. And to recognise a little of myself here, while claiming no ownership of a story that is very, very much not mine. Especially because as a white British person I’m inherently complicit in several of the systems of oppression Amrou has to navigate.
One of the most fascinating threads in the book is Amrou’s troubled relationship with his mother. They’re very close when Amrou is growing up but thee bond becomes fractured around Amrou’s need to express and live their queer identity. Amrou’s family are complex mixture of supportive (it’s clear throughout the book they sincerely love Amrou—if it is possible, that is, to love someone without accepting who they are) and very conservative (with all the tensions and the hypocrisies that entails). Needless to say, this creates a profoundly damaging dynamic for Amrou, the impact of which is felt throughout the narrative and probably will be felt by them for the rest of their life. But there is something of a reconciliation at the very end of the book (paralleling to some degree Amrou’s reconciliation with their faith) where they have a very painful talk, in which it becomes clear that it’s hard for Amrou’s mother to accept their queerness, and the way they embrace the more feminine aspects of their identity, because for Amrou’s mother masculinity is freedom, and being a kind of prison. Whereas, of course, for Amrou heteronormative masculinity was the prison. Oof. I say again. Oof.
Anyway I sincerely, deeply and with all my heart recommend this. Content guidance for emotional abuse, sexual abuse, just about every possible phobia going (Islamophobia, racism, queerphobia, femmephobia) so, as ever, do take care of yourself first and foremost. But this is a book that needs to read. It is so very full of important things, terrible things, beautiful things. I will be thinking about it for a long time.
Also I might have cried at the end.
June 21, 2021
Coming out stories will always be an important part of LGBT literature since the way we arrive at a queer identity is a unique journey for every individual growing up in a predominantly heterosexual society. Sometimes I'll idly wonder if we've had enough of them and then come across a tale which is so moving and says something vital about how difficult it is to grow up feeling different in the world today. Amrou Al-Kadhi's memoir is like none I've read before as it describes their life growing up in a strict Iraqui Muslim household, moving to England and developing a fearless drag queen persona named Glamrou.
Even though Amrou's life is very different from my own there were so many aspects of their feelings of alienation and moments of solace that I found relatable. From fancying a cartoon fox to intensely identifying with bizarre undersea lifeforms, I connected strongly with the experiences described. Other parts of this story felt new and surprising to me especially how Amrou became a perfectionist in their studies as a way of dealing with being rejected from their family. From the outside it's difficult to understand a mania to get everything exactly right but when a child feels like they have no value it makes perfect sense.
Read my full review of Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi on LonesomeReader
Even though Amrou's life is very different from my own there were so many aspects of their feelings of alienation and moments of solace that I found relatable. From fancying a cartoon fox to intensely identifying with bizarre undersea lifeforms, I connected strongly with the experiences described. Other parts of this story felt new and surprising to me especially how Amrou became a perfectionist in their studies as a way of dealing with being rejected from their family. From the outside it's difficult to understand a mania to get everything exactly right but when a child feels like they have no value it makes perfect sense.
Read my full review of Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi on LonesomeReader
January 14, 2022
Now that the dust aka my emotions have settled I can put my thoughts into words.
I didn't think this book would make me feel so anxious, but Amrou's struggles and trauma, albeit told with humour, were often uncomfortable to read - which is only fair because "uncomfortable" probably doesn't even begin to describe Amrou's lived experience. There are quite a few traumatic episodes, and although I expected such moments from a queer memoir, cover and title somehow gave more more uplifting vibes. So be warned, finding queer joy and comfort definitely form part of this memoir but the journey isn't straight-forward. Homophobia, islamophobia, depression and abuse also take up a fair bit of space in Unicorn and you won't get out unscathed.
I love Amrou's writing style, I love the images they use and the wit they possess. Theirs is a story of strength, survival and perseverance and I'm so glad I read this. I also really want to go and see them perform live! Goes on the bucket list.
I didn't think this book would make me feel so anxious, but Amrou's struggles and trauma, albeit told with humour, were often uncomfortable to read - which is only fair because "uncomfortable" probably doesn't even begin to describe Amrou's lived experience. There are quite a few traumatic episodes, and although I expected such moments from a queer memoir, cover and title somehow gave more more uplifting vibes. So be warned, finding queer joy and comfort definitely form part of this memoir but the journey isn't straight-forward. Homophobia, islamophobia, depression and abuse also take up a fair bit of space in Unicorn and you won't get out unscathed.
I love Amrou's writing style, I love the images they use and the wit they possess. Theirs is a story of strength, survival and perseverance and I'm so glad I read this. I also really want to go and see them perform live! Goes on the bucket list.
March 23, 2022
4.5 stars for an amazing, honest and heartening memoir.
CW:
this is the representation queer Muslims deserve. yes, it is possible to be a Muslim who is queer and nonbinary and gay and a gender nonconforming drag queen. it's amazing to read about Amrou Al-Kadhi who has managed to integrate their queerness with their Iraqi Arabic culture, Islamic faith, family in Britain, and actually thrived after combining all these aspects of their identity. i thought Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen was the first book i'd read about queer Muslims and only remembered We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir a few hours after i finished this. i definitely appreciate this memoir more because Amrou is more relatable as a nonbinary person and because they interrogate their attraction to white men in terms of their mental health and racial discrimination in Britain.
Amrou lived with their parents and twin Brother, Ramy, in Iraq for their early childhood. they write about their really close relationship with their mother: just spending time together, giving their mother fashion advice and going shopping for feminine clothes. they developed an interest in acting and performance, which their mother fully encouraged.
Amrou recounts how they frequently questioned Islamic practices, enjoyed dressing up and expressed their attraction to boys. all of these, as expected, angered and upset their parents, who believe homosexuality is incredibly haram. so, Amrou was forced to repress their gayness throughout their childhood at home in Iraq and Britain. thankfully, they had the freedom to be gay in primary school in Britain, and later at Eton and Cambridge. Amrou takes us through all their transgressions (they use this word a lot) in exploring their sexuality with the constant fear of being found out and the mentally crushing consequences each time their parents find more evidence of their gayness.
Amrou writes about their greater freedom to explore and experiment with their sexuality and gender presentation in Cambridge, when their parents move back to Iraq. they talk about queer envy, which isn't a very commonly discussed issue, and racism within the gay community.
Amrou started a drag troupe called 'Denim' at Cambridge and assumed they role of drag mother, where performing gave them an incredible sense of power. however, throughout their exploration of queerness, Amrou had been pushing away all aspects of their Muslim and Arabic identity - rather identifying as Christian (for some time) and British. it's only when they meet more Muslim queer people and gain to courage to slowly introduce Arabic elements into their drag outfits and performances, mostly inspired by their mother's fashion sense, that Amrou attains a sense of authentic wholeness and relief.
i really loved reading Amrou's thoughts against their parents' homophobic comments. i'm glad i'm not alone in having solid arguments in my mind, but not articulating them out of fear. okay but, they did eventually call out their mother and i screamed.
they also discover how homophobia and transphobia is linked to misogyny in Middle Eastern households. (thought they say Middle Eastern, i find the exact same thing in South Asian culture.)
the memoir ends with really positive links between queerness and Islam, especially Sufism. it made me so happy that they met other queer Muslims and had these experiences.
here's another quote from near the end because it really is that beautiful.
CW:
But that Edinburgh night, as the beautiful girl in the hijab held my hand and reassured me of Allah's unconditional love and I stood in front of her in a sequin leotard and a melting face of sapphire glitter, I felt as if I finally belonged.
this is the representation queer Muslims deserve. yes, it is possible to be a Muslim who is queer and nonbinary and gay and a gender nonconforming drag queen. it's amazing to read about Amrou Al-Kadhi who has managed to integrate their queerness with their Iraqi Arabic culture, Islamic faith, family in Britain, and actually thrived after combining all these aspects of their identity. i thought Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen was the first book i'd read about queer Muslims and only remembered We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir a few hours after i finished this. i definitely appreciate this memoir more because Amrou is more relatable as a nonbinary person and because they interrogate their attraction to white men in terms of their mental health and racial discrimination in Britain.
Amrou lived with their parents and twin Brother, Ramy, in Iraq for their early childhood. they write about their really close relationship with their mother: just spending time together, giving their mother fashion advice and going shopping for feminine clothes. they developed an interest in acting and performance, which their mother fully encouraged.
To my knowledge, this character existed in no version of Cinderella throughout history, but I was ecstatic nonetheless. For I was going to be premiering the never-before-seen role of ... the Fairy Godmother's gecko. You heard it. A gecko. In Cinderella. My first foray into show business was to play a GECKO in a story that had nothing to do with geckos.
Amrou recounts how they frequently questioned Islamic practices, enjoyed dressing up and expressed their attraction to boys. all of these, as expected, angered and upset their parents, who believe homosexuality is incredibly haram. so, Amrou was forced to repress their gayness throughout their childhood at home in Iraq and Britain. thankfully, they had the freedom to be gay in primary school in Britain, and later at Eton and Cambridge. Amrou takes us through all their transgressions (they use this word a lot) in exploring their sexuality with the constant fear of being found out and the mentally crushing consequences each time their parents find more evidence of their gayness.
Amrou writes about their greater freedom to explore and experiment with their sexuality and gender presentation in Cambridge, when their parents move back to Iraq. they talk about queer envy, which isn't a very commonly discussed issue, and racism within the gay community.
How could I tell him I was proud of him for coming out when I could only feel shame for my own sexuality? Surely a flamboyant, public drag queen would feel nothing but warmth and joy for their best friend finding the courage to come out in some part through their friendship? Instead I felt bitter that my queer positivity could help someone else find happiness when that very same queer positivity was ripping me ever further from my family.
Amrou started a drag troupe called 'Denim' at Cambridge and assumed they role of drag mother, where performing gave them an incredible sense of power. however, throughout their exploration of queerness, Amrou had been pushing away all aspects of their Muslim and Arabic identity - rather identifying as Christian (for some time) and British. it's only when they meet more Muslim queer people and gain to courage to slowly introduce Arabic elements into their drag outfits and performances, mostly inspired by their mother's fashion sense, that Amrou attains a sense of authentic wholeness and relief.
i really loved reading Amrou's thoughts against their parents' homophobic comments. i'm glad i'm not alone in having solid arguments in my mind, but not articulating them out of fear. okay but, they did eventually call out their mother and i screamed.
'Actually, no Mum. What you did was fucking homophobic and has made me a paranoid, often depressed person with severe mental health issues. Most parents would be proud of a kid who has had the life that I have - you're only embarrassed.'
they also discover how homophobia and transphobia is linked to misogyny in Middle Eastern households. (thought they say Middle Eastern, i find the exact same thing in South Asian culture.)
In fact, in Middle Eastern households, you'll often find the mother as the mouthpiece of the patriarchy; while the father silently benefits from his male privilege, the women are left to enact the structures that the men profit from, perhaps even dictate. My dad's apathetic response to this entire odyssey pointed to the fact that it mostly fell to my mother to be the bearer of the patriarchal hand - as such, I had always punished her more in my mind.i would've liked to read more about Amrou's gender exploration, in terms of their identity rather than presentation. they do state that they identify as nonbinary and use 'them/they' pronouns, and mention dysphoria a few times. but, i wanted a bit more attention to the gender aspect, since they discuss their sexuality a lot. this would've made Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen a five star read in my eyes, but of course, there's no need for Amrou to include more about their gender and i'm grateful for how honest they are already.
the memoir ends with really positive links between queerness and Islam, especially Sufism. it made me so happy that they met other queer Muslims and had these experiences.
There were Muslim men in female Islamic robes and a trans woman wearing a hijab, and I thought about little Amrou in Islam class, and how I wished I could tell them that one day they'd be sitting in a room full of other queer Muslims, and that love, not eternal fire, awaited them.
here's another quote from near the end because it really is that beautiful.
I soon found myself among a group of queer Arabs and Muslims, flaunting the costumes of their pasts in true queer glory, many in drag, belly dancing to the Middle Eastern sounds that had raised them (and for some, excluded them). Layla was by my side, as if in that moment out traumatic associations with our heritage were suddenly silenced, and all we felt in front of us was love, solidarity, and beauty. The two runaway Arabs had finally reached their destination.
January 13, 2021
Kuuntelin tämän äänikirjana loman alkuun potkaisemiseksi. Life as a unicorn on muuten hyvä esimerkki siitä, että äänikirjapalveluista löytyy muutakin kuin kotimaisia uutuuksia, ukkoin elämäkertoja, dekkareita ja bestseller-selfhelp-ryönää, jos vain jaksaa etsiä. Inhoan sitä, kuinka huonosti äänikirjasovellusten suosittelutoiminnot toimivat. Aina samat Aki Hintsat ja aamuviiden miljonäärit. Muuta luettavaa löydän käymällä läpi luettavien listaani ja kirjoittamalla teoksen nimet yksi kerrallaan hakukenttään. Yleensä ei tärppää, mutta yllättävän usein jotain kumminkin löytyy. Voi silti olla, että siirryn jossain kohtaa englanninkielisiin palveluihin.
Mutta itse teokseen! Life as a unicorn on brittiläis-irakilaisen drag queenin Glamroun omaelämäkerta, jonka suuria teemoja ovat itsensä etsiminen ja hyväksytyksi tuleminen. Itse kehyskertomus on melko perinteinen vanhoillisesta taustasta ponnistavan queerin kasvukertomus: vanhemmat kieltävät lapsensa ja koulussa kiusataan.
Al-Kadhin tarinan seuraavalle tasolle nostaa se, miten hän kuvaa brittiläisen yhteiskunnan ytimeen pesiytyneen rasismin ja elitismin yhteyttä. Näkökulma on sisäpiiriin pyrkivän mutta koko ajan ulkokehälle tönittävän muukalaisen, joka ei voi täyttää valkoisuusnormia ja jonka tausta on väärä yksinkertaisesti siksi, ettei Al-Kadhin perhe kuulu Britannian (valkoiseen) yläluokkaan. Al-Kadhi ei kelpaa perheelleen queerina homona eikä koulutovereilleen ruskeana ei-natiivina.
Al-Kadhi on syntynyt 1990 ja kirja julkaistu 2019. Kiintoisaa on se, että kertomuksessa homous ja queerius eivät ole enää omanikäisten joukossa olennaisimpia syitä ulossulkemiseen. Rasismi sen sijaan on ja pysyy – tai kuten tiedämme, kukoistaa.
Ehkä 3,5 tähteä. Genressään eli julkkisten omaelämäkerroissa oivallinen. Suhteeni julkkisten elämäkertoihin on kuitenkin hankala.
Mutta itse teokseen! Life as a unicorn on brittiläis-irakilaisen drag queenin Glamroun omaelämäkerta, jonka suuria teemoja ovat itsensä etsiminen ja hyväksytyksi tuleminen. Itse kehyskertomus on melko perinteinen vanhoillisesta taustasta ponnistavan queerin kasvukertomus: vanhemmat kieltävät lapsensa ja koulussa kiusataan.
Al-Kadhin tarinan seuraavalle tasolle nostaa se, miten hän kuvaa brittiläisen yhteiskunnan ytimeen pesiytyneen rasismin ja elitismin yhteyttä. Näkökulma on sisäpiiriin pyrkivän mutta koko ajan ulkokehälle tönittävän muukalaisen, joka ei voi täyttää valkoisuusnormia ja jonka tausta on väärä yksinkertaisesti siksi, ettei Al-Kadhin perhe kuulu Britannian (valkoiseen) yläluokkaan. Al-Kadhi ei kelpaa perheelleen queerina homona eikä koulutovereilleen ruskeana ei-natiivina.
Al-Kadhi on syntynyt 1990 ja kirja julkaistu 2019. Kiintoisaa on se, että kertomuksessa homous ja queerius eivät ole enää omanikäisten joukossa olennaisimpia syitä ulossulkemiseen. Rasismi sen sijaan on ja pysyy – tai kuten tiedämme, kukoistaa.
Ehkä 3,5 tähteä. Genressään eli julkkisten omaelämäkerroissa oivallinen. Suhteeni julkkisten elämäkertoihin on kuitenkin hankala.
October 24, 2019
Before he ever dreams of performing drag, Amrou has to survive the isolating life of being different.
I received a free copy from Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
This follows the story of Amrou, a boy who was born in the UK, raised in Iraq, before going to school in London, and can't understand why he doesn't fit in with his father and twin brother, in the strict gender identities imposed by the Muslim community.
Amrou would rather spend time with his glamorous mother, and is entranced by how only art can overcome the normal gender expectations.
Growing up, he has to internalise his gender dysphoria, and attraction to other boys, as it has been made clear that being different is a sin, and he will bring great unhappiness to Allah and his family. This is all compounded by his painfully-self-destructive OCD and anxiety. No matter the outward appearance, of an obedient Muslim son, or a out-and-proud gay man; inwardly there is constant punishment and guilt and doubt.
Amrou's unflinching autobiography is written by someone who is clearly intelligent, and with a good sense of humour. He explains quantum physics and aquarium care with the same openness and ease as Ru Paul and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.
Even as he makes his way and starts to establish his own identity as a gay man and drag sensation, Amrou admits that he isn't perfect. He makes mistakes along the way, sometime hurting friends, but mostly hurting himself.
Despite being judged constantly by everyone around him, Amrou rarely judges others. He accepts their prejudices, the varying levels of racism and homophobic comments. Perhaps because he doesn't know any better, after being brought up to think that he is the faulty individual; or because these people are just people. They are flawed, ignorant, and rude, but they aren't bad people. It's a very sorry reflection on what is still socially-accepted, in the modern UK.
I don't read many memoirs, but I enjoyed this one.
The author isn't a fabulously smooth writer, and their stories do jump about a bit. It's not always the easiest book to delve into, but I liked how it was styled as Amrou telling the stories of his life with self-deprecation and humour, despite the depressing content.
I received a free copy from Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
This follows the story of Amrou, a boy who was born in the UK, raised in Iraq, before going to school in London, and can't understand why he doesn't fit in with his father and twin brother, in the strict gender identities imposed by the Muslim community.
Amrou would rather spend time with his glamorous mother, and is entranced by how only art can overcome the normal gender expectations.
Growing up, he has to internalise his gender dysphoria, and attraction to other boys, as it has been made clear that being different is a sin, and he will bring great unhappiness to Allah and his family. This is all compounded by his painfully-self-destructive OCD and anxiety. No matter the outward appearance, of an obedient Muslim son, or a out-and-proud gay man; inwardly there is constant punishment and guilt and doubt.
Amrou's unflinching autobiography is written by someone who is clearly intelligent, and with a good sense of humour. He explains quantum physics and aquarium care with the same openness and ease as Ru Paul and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.
Even as he makes his way and starts to establish his own identity as a gay man and drag sensation, Amrou admits that he isn't perfect. He makes mistakes along the way, sometime hurting friends, but mostly hurting himself.
Despite being judged constantly by everyone around him, Amrou rarely judges others. He accepts their prejudices, the varying levels of racism and homophobic comments. Perhaps because he doesn't know any better, after being brought up to think that he is the faulty individual; or because these people are just people. They are flawed, ignorant, and rude, but they aren't bad people. It's a very sorry reflection on what is still socially-accepted, in the modern UK.
I don't read many memoirs, but I enjoyed this one.
The author isn't a fabulously smooth writer, and their stories do jump about a bit. It's not always the easiest book to delve into, but I liked how it was styled as Amrou telling the stories of his life with self-deprecation and humour, despite the depressing content.
February 1, 2021
“As a queer person, I believe almost dogmatically in difference, in the idea that every single person is unique, with their own innate sense of self, and that it is this difference which brings all of us together as one.”
A powerful and necessary narrative which comes and fills in the gaps of the LGBTQ+ literature. Amrou Al-Kadhi tells their story – this is not an analogy of Muslim Drag Queens as I’ve read in some reviews (if you think it is, you’ve completely missed the point!) – the story of finding their identity growing up in a religious surrounding, in a traditional British school and within themselves more than anything else.
I listened to the audiobook while reading my physical copy – Amrou Al-Kadhi narrates it and it made all the difference. It was like they were confiding in me and told me everything they needed me to know. Their relationship with their mother, the expectations that ensued in the Muslim community, the racism and homophobia they faced in England, the abuse of others who didn’t necessarily understand them but didn’t realise they only needed to accept Amrou. It was eye-opening and I particularly enjoyed the conversation that emerged from this, with my friend, who kindly shared her own experience with the religion in her upbringing and who she is as a person today. This is what this book does – it teaches you what you need to know but also brings people together, sharing their own stories with one another and spreading awareness to combat ignorance.
Even if you don’t feel particularly connected to the topic, it is essential to read this and learn about others, to learn about how the society we live in and benefits you as a person, has introduced others’ struggled and challenges throughout their lives.
A powerful and necessary narrative which comes and fills in the gaps of the LGBTQ+ literature. Amrou Al-Kadhi tells their story – this is not an analogy of Muslim Drag Queens as I’ve read in some reviews (if you think it is, you’ve completely missed the point!) – the story of finding their identity growing up in a religious surrounding, in a traditional British school and within themselves more than anything else.
I listened to the audiobook while reading my physical copy – Amrou Al-Kadhi narrates it and it made all the difference. It was like they were confiding in me and told me everything they needed me to know. Their relationship with their mother, the expectations that ensued in the Muslim community, the racism and homophobia they faced in England, the abuse of others who didn’t necessarily understand them but didn’t realise they only needed to accept Amrou. It was eye-opening and I particularly enjoyed the conversation that emerged from this, with my friend, who kindly shared her own experience with the religion in her upbringing and who she is as a person today. This is what this book does – it teaches you what you need to know but also brings people together, sharing their own stories with one another and spreading awareness to combat ignorance.
Even if you don’t feel particularly connected to the topic, it is essential to read this and learn about others, to learn about how the society we live in and benefits you as a person, has introduced others’ struggled and challenges throughout their lives.
December 3, 2020
Some autobiographies can be very difficult to rate and this one is a classic in that vein. The problem with this book is that whilst well-written, Amrou hasn't done enough to fill 320 pages with interesting content, so we spend chapter after chapter in boring domesticity, making our way through childhood and school. It read to me very similar to The Outrun: A Memoir, which is also one of my lowest rated books of the year - I am very queasy reading autobiographies that are really about a dysfunction in a family. I don't see what Amrou's parents have done to deserve this public scorn and I think less of the author for monetising the family's private problems.
As an added issue, I really enjoy a catty narrator in fiction, but in autobiography I find it nauseating. These are real people that Amrou is writing about and it's so rude to publish this kind of vitriol. All the digs at people's personal appearance - it's childish. Taking a meta view - I'm not surprised that Amrou has had such difficulties fitting in and making friends in a wide variety of settings, if this is the inner monologue going on.
As an added issue, I really enjoy a catty narrator in fiction, but in autobiography I find it nauseating. These are real people that Amrou is writing about and it's so rude to publish this kind of vitriol. All the digs at people's personal appearance - it's childish. Taking a meta view - I'm not surprised that Amrou has had such difficulties fitting in and making friends in a wide variety of settings, if this is the inner monologue going on.
unfinished-or-abandoned
May 28, 2023I found this as a library audiobook read by the author, just in time for Ramadan 😃😉
it had a cute start 🙂 and ALOT is interesting... but I wasn't especially engaged with/by the author and their story: it felt like they tried abit hard with language in places; the way they speak, a few turns of phrase; some references turned me away (Harry Potter) and ableist language... AND so many age exclusive reference points - not that they are there, more that they're kinda assumed to be universal (only if you're born after 1980).
for some balance/for posterity, my favourite line :
"...the Quran doesn't say anything about fancying foxes" 🧡
abandoned the book 3 hours into 7.5 (4.5 left), a bit under half way thru.
it had a cute start 🙂 and ALOT is interesting... but I wasn't especially engaged with/by the author and their story: it felt like they tried abit hard with language in places; the way they speak, a few turns of phrase; some references turned me away (Harry Potter) and ableist language... AND so many age exclusive reference points - not that they are there, more that they're kinda assumed to be universal (only if you're born after 1980).
for some balance/for posterity, my favourite line :
"...the Quran doesn't say anything about fancying foxes" 🧡
abandoned the book 3 hours into 7.5 (4.5 left), a bit under half way thru.
August 17, 2020
• r e v i e w •
.
"I find a great affinity with unicorns. They are the ultimate outsiders, destined to gallop alone. They share the body of a horse and are similar in form, but are a different nature, almost able to belong in an equine herd, but utterly conspicuous and irrefutably other.” - Amrou Al-Kadhi.
"And what is acting besides a sublimation of childhood trauma in order to get an agent?" - Amrou Al-Kadhi.
.
Many months ago someone recommended this memoir in the comment section and it had been on my mind ever since. Unicorn turned out to be exactly the way the title suggests. Vibrant, majestic and unique. Although I've read memoirs of queer men and of those from the LGBTQ community, what set this apart was the background of the protagonist. Being a Muslim man from an Iraqi heritage, he had to fight harder to come out of the closet. With zero support from his parents, Amrou faced a torrent of emotions throughout his adolescent and adult life. It was only when he donned the role of a drag queen that he finally found peace. It made him complete.
.
The book opens with Amrou performing in a drag show filled with fear when he spots a group of burqa clad women sitting in the front row murmuring something inaudible. To his surprise, the women shower him with praises, a gesture so uncommon amidst conservative muslim community. This episode warmed my heart and was such a wonderful thing to read. Being brought up in Bahrain and Dubai, Amrou shared a close bond with his mother who happened to be a glamourous diva but their relationship changes instantly when she realises Amrou's liking towards men. The more he tried to please them, the more he felt trapped. This pushed him to rebel against his parents which lasted throughout his entire teenage years.
.
Amrou's life goes through a rollercoaster ride as he goes to Eton, a prestigious British boarding school where he was bullied constantly. His desire to be accepted by his peers made him do things he didn't want to. To top it off, he was at the receiving end of Islamophobia. He was physically and psychologically abused for many years as he was on the lookout for love. It was only when he moved to the university that he discovered drag shows and was instantly comfortable in the makeup and costumes. He led shows and met fellow drag queens who formed a strong bond of trust. His relationship with his parents remained bitter for a long time but I was relieved to read how his mother accepted him in her own way. Amrou's story is as real as it gets. He writes in detail about how his confused filled teenage years triggered his obsessive need to score good marks at school. He sacrificed his sleep and food, pushing himself to the verge of a mental breakdown. Many parts of this memoir were difficult to read. The hate that he received for years and the fact that many young boys/girls like him are still being subjected to such harsh realities is a chilling and hurtful thing to accept.
.
Unicorn was a wonderful memoir but I often felt disconnected from the story. It may have to do with the narration because I couldn't stay focused for too long. He adds a touch of humour to ease the discomfort and to probably buff out the edges of sharp incidents. But I do however recommend this memoir to those who are seeking knowledge about what it feels like to be a queer person growing up in a hostile environment and to finally find acceptance within onself. Amrou is undoubtedly a Unicorn and this memoir proves why.
.
Rating : 3.9/5.
.
"I find a great affinity with unicorns. They are the ultimate outsiders, destined to gallop alone. They share the body of a horse and are similar in form, but are a different nature, almost able to belong in an equine herd, but utterly conspicuous and irrefutably other.” - Amrou Al-Kadhi.
"And what is acting besides a sublimation of childhood trauma in order to get an agent?" - Amrou Al-Kadhi.
.
Many months ago someone recommended this memoir in the comment section and it had been on my mind ever since. Unicorn turned out to be exactly the way the title suggests. Vibrant, majestic and unique. Although I've read memoirs of queer men and of those from the LGBTQ community, what set this apart was the background of the protagonist. Being a Muslim man from an Iraqi heritage, he had to fight harder to come out of the closet. With zero support from his parents, Amrou faced a torrent of emotions throughout his adolescent and adult life. It was only when he donned the role of a drag queen that he finally found peace. It made him complete.
.
The book opens with Amrou performing in a drag show filled with fear when he spots a group of burqa clad women sitting in the front row murmuring something inaudible. To his surprise, the women shower him with praises, a gesture so uncommon amidst conservative muslim community. This episode warmed my heart and was such a wonderful thing to read. Being brought up in Bahrain and Dubai, Amrou shared a close bond with his mother who happened to be a glamourous diva but their relationship changes instantly when she realises Amrou's liking towards men. The more he tried to please them, the more he felt trapped. This pushed him to rebel against his parents which lasted throughout his entire teenage years.
.
Amrou's life goes through a rollercoaster ride as he goes to Eton, a prestigious British boarding school where he was bullied constantly. His desire to be accepted by his peers made him do things he didn't want to. To top it off, he was at the receiving end of Islamophobia. He was physically and psychologically abused for many years as he was on the lookout for love. It was only when he moved to the university that he discovered drag shows and was instantly comfortable in the makeup and costumes. He led shows and met fellow drag queens who formed a strong bond of trust. His relationship with his parents remained bitter for a long time but I was relieved to read how his mother accepted him in her own way. Amrou's story is as real as it gets. He writes in detail about how his confused filled teenage years triggered his obsessive need to score good marks at school. He sacrificed his sleep and food, pushing himself to the verge of a mental breakdown. Many parts of this memoir were difficult to read. The hate that he received for years and the fact that many young boys/girls like him are still being subjected to such harsh realities is a chilling and hurtful thing to accept.
.
Unicorn was a wonderful memoir but I often felt disconnected from the story. It may have to do with the narration because I couldn't stay focused for too long. He adds a touch of humour to ease the discomfort and to probably buff out the edges of sharp incidents. But I do however recommend this memoir to those who are seeking knowledge about what it feels like to be a queer person growing up in a hostile environment and to finally find acceptance within onself. Amrou is undoubtedly a Unicorn and this memoir proves why.
.
Rating : 3.9/5.
September 11, 2022
Heartbreakingly honest and moving memoir. I almost couldn't put the book down, I just wanted to get back into Amrou's life everytime i closed the book.
Their memoir has enlightened me so much more on the Muslim religion and Islamic practices. Their struggle to accept things that they hate but eventually got them to where they are, the difficulties faced by the QTIPOC+ community, the brief pockets of acceptance in a world where you do not feel welcome... it's all there and ready to bring tears to your eyes.
Amrou writes with an amazing flow and knack for storytelling, which is difficult to do when your life is so full and when doing so much introspection. They wrote about their familial relationships, growing up in a restrictive religion, struggles with mental health, rejecting their entire identity as well as the slow process of stringing it back together, the illuminated memories that opened up a life that feels authentic.
The reader even gets exposed to a mind enamoured by marine biology and quantum physics, which greatly expanded my love and knowledge on the topics.
An exerpt here from the book, because ‘It seemed so damn woke in the ocean’:
"I was deeply stirred by the way that the marine creatures moved so freely; the way the soft corals and sea invertebrates seemed to exist without physical boundaries, like warrior shape-shifters; the way the fish regally flaunted their colourful costumes.
That’s how I feel on the inside. In my soul, I’m that colourful; my sexuality, my gender – it’s free-moving, like in the tank. Maybe my soul doesn’t have any boundaries?"
I left so much out - this book is impossible to summarise but an absolute treat to read, so do yourself a favour.
Some quotes that will stay with me:
"Have you ever seen or heard something - a film, a painting, something fleeting out of a car window, a song or a sound - and felt a sudden emotional clarity, as if whatever you've just encountered has always been a part of you, and in that moment, both parts have finally been reunited?"
"It was one of those moments when you see something new and it ignites a fire in you, and you think, 'no matter what anyone says, this is what I want. And I am going to do whatever I need to be part of this.'"
"At sixteen I wanted not only a place to belong to, but a history; a tried and tested narrative that bore none of the chaos of my own."
"Once I realised that the laws of reality were merely a construct, at odds with the behaviours of the subatomic particles that actually comprise reality, then it struck me that surely all constructed notions of gender, racial hierarchy and identity were also imprisoning impositions. I was made up of trillions upon trillions of subatomic particles that basked in their multiplicity, existing as many things and in many places at once, and all the anxieties that had come to govern me came from restricting their natural behaviours."
Their memoir has enlightened me so much more on the Muslim religion and Islamic practices. Their struggle to accept things that they hate but eventually got them to where they are, the difficulties faced by the QTIPOC+ community, the brief pockets of acceptance in a world where you do not feel welcome... it's all there and ready to bring tears to your eyes.
Amrou writes with an amazing flow and knack for storytelling, which is difficult to do when your life is so full and when doing so much introspection. They wrote about their familial relationships, growing up in a restrictive religion, struggles with mental health, rejecting their entire identity as well as the slow process of stringing it back together, the illuminated memories that opened up a life that feels authentic.
The reader even gets exposed to a mind enamoured by marine biology and quantum physics, which greatly expanded my love and knowledge on the topics.
An exerpt here from the book, because ‘It seemed so damn woke in the ocean’:
"I was deeply stirred by the way that the marine creatures moved so freely; the way the soft corals and sea invertebrates seemed to exist without physical boundaries, like warrior shape-shifters; the way the fish regally flaunted their colourful costumes.
That’s how I feel on the inside. In my soul, I’m that colourful; my sexuality, my gender – it’s free-moving, like in the tank. Maybe my soul doesn’t have any boundaries?"
I left so much out - this book is impossible to summarise but an absolute treat to read, so do yourself a favour.
Some quotes that will stay with me:
"Have you ever seen or heard something - a film, a painting, something fleeting out of a car window, a song or a sound - and felt a sudden emotional clarity, as if whatever you've just encountered has always been a part of you, and in that moment, both parts have finally been reunited?"
"It was one of those moments when you see something new and it ignites a fire in you, and you think, 'no matter what anyone says, this is what I want. And I am going to do whatever I need to be part of this.'"
"At sixteen I wanted not only a place to belong to, but a history; a tried and tested narrative that bore none of the chaos of my own."
"Once I realised that the laws of reality were merely a construct, at odds with the behaviours of the subatomic particles that actually comprise reality, then it struck me that surely all constructed notions of gender, racial hierarchy and identity were also imprisoning impositions. I was made up of trillions upon trillions of subatomic particles that basked in their multiplicity, existing as many things and in many places at once, and all the anxieties that had come to govern me came from restricting their natural behaviours."
December 29, 2020
A really beautiful but heartbreaking read about what it's like to grow up as a queer POC in Dubai then Bahrain and finally the UK. I really enjoyed learning about the freedom they felt when they learned about the fluidity of sea creatures and queer interpretations of the Quran. A really quick read as well.
November 27, 2020
I loved this. What an interesting life they have had.
April 9, 2020
I find it very hard to review autobiographies. It's all too easy for criticism of a book to look like criticism of the person and their life and that's not what I intend. I just found this book to be a bit misleading. There didn't seem to be enough about life as a 'Muslim Drag Queen' to justify the title. I read in ebook format (via Borrowbox) and was surprised to get to the end and find no photographs at all. Perhaps I was unrealistic to expect a bit more of the glamour of Glamrou and less of the 'poor me' childhood. My bad, as they say.
If it wasn't about being a Muslim drag queen, then what was it? Mostly a lot about life as an OCD perfectionist and about fighting with his unsupportive family and parents. His privileged childhood lacked only acceptance of his sexuality and his parents were horrified that their little boy had turned into such a monster. Like many young people, Amrou spent a lot of his life feeling like an outsider, trying way too hard to fit in (mostly with Eton toffs who probably weren't worthy of his efforts) and attempting to come to terms with a sexuality that was so at odds with his religion.
As 'misery memoirs' go, this is no Angela's Ashes. As a tribute - twisted perhaps - to his much-loved mother, it's contradictory and complex. When your mother is the living embodiment of the type of woman that many drag queens aspire to be, it's a kick in the teeth that she can't accept her son wants some of that. There's a deeply inciteful passage near the end where Amrou's mother explains that she can't understand why anybody lucky enough to be born a man would want to swap that for being a woman. That's one of the points where the penny drops, and lots of unpleasant things make sense (but are not, of course, to be forgiven).
If the book had been either 'My cross-cultural gender identity conflicted childhood' or 'Life as a fabulously extravagant drag queen', I suspect there's plenty of material to fill two volumes. However, for me, there wasn't enough of the 'Muslim Drag Queen' and rather too much of the bitter little boy looking for other people to blame.
As an aside, I loved the tropical fish tank as a metaphor for Amrou's teen ambitions and conflicts.
If it wasn't about being a Muslim drag queen, then what was it? Mostly a lot about life as an OCD perfectionist and about fighting with his unsupportive family and parents. His privileged childhood lacked only acceptance of his sexuality and his parents were horrified that their little boy had turned into such a monster. Like many young people, Amrou spent a lot of his life feeling like an outsider, trying way too hard to fit in (mostly with Eton toffs who probably weren't worthy of his efforts) and attempting to come to terms with a sexuality that was so at odds with his religion.
As 'misery memoirs' go, this is no Angela's Ashes. As a tribute - twisted perhaps - to his much-loved mother, it's contradictory and complex. When your mother is the living embodiment of the type of woman that many drag queens aspire to be, it's a kick in the teeth that she can't accept her son wants some of that. There's a deeply inciteful passage near the end where Amrou's mother explains that she can't understand why anybody lucky enough to be born a man would want to swap that for being a woman. That's one of the points where the penny drops, and lots of unpleasant things make sense (but are not, of course, to be forgiven).
If the book had been either 'My cross-cultural gender identity conflicted childhood' or 'Life as a fabulously extravagant drag queen', I suspect there's plenty of material to fill two volumes. However, for me, there wasn't enough of the 'Muslim Drag Queen' and rather too much of the bitter little boy looking for other people to blame.
As an aside, I loved the tropical fish tank as a metaphor for Amrou's teen ambitions and conflicts.
October 17, 2020
This book started off a little over dramatic for my liking and I thought to myself, “I hope this book will not be a huge Muslim / Islamic bashing monologue”.
Turns out it wasn’t. Reading Amrou’s painful journey of trying to find a sense of belonging is something I’m sure we all can reflect on at some point in our lives.
What I enjoyed most about this book was finding solace in being Muslim and living it on your terms.
Islam is supposed to be diverse, diverse in people, culture and in thinking. Yet we are made to believe (mainly growing up from my mother, my father was of the total opposite opinion) that it’s regressive, subjugating and difficult. Any institution that comes off this way can only chase you away.
Is it unsurprising people often rebel in the worst ways when you’re made to feel chained up physically and mentally?
I’ve had to realise by myself and conversations with my father (RIP) that Islam is really easy. It’s a way of life. Make it what you want, you can make it fit you. It always will.
This really resonates with what Amrou was going through, (he has been through much worse tbh) you can belong... and belong on your terms!!
Faith is personal! I repeat that over and over again. We are not in this world to police over one another, but support each other. 💕
Turns out it wasn’t. Reading Amrou’s painful journey of trying to find a sense of belonging is something I’m sure we all can reflect on at some point in our lives.
What I enjoyed most about this book was finding solace in being Muslim and living it on your terms.
Islam is supposed to be diverse, diverse in people, culture and in thinking. Yet we are made to believe (mainly growing up from my mother, my father was of the total opposite opinion) that it’s regressive, subjugating and difficult. Any institution that comes off this way can only chase you away.
Is it unsurprising people often rebel in the worst ways when you’re made to feel chained up physically and mentally?
I’ve had to realise by myself and conversations with my father (RIP) that Islam is really easy. It’s a way of life. Make it what you want, you can make it fit you. It always will.
This really resonates with what Amrou was going through, (he has been through much worse tbh) you can belong... and belong on your terms!!
Faith is personal! I repeat that over and over again. We are not in this world to police over one another, but support each other. 💕
March 15, 2021
This was such a heart-wrenching memoir to read. I couldn’t believe that Amrou had to try and overcome lots of hardships throughout their life living in a country where homosexuality is illegal but still wanting to stay true to themselves. Having a family that doesn’t accept you as a person is never easy and Life As A Unicorn is an example of having to hide who you really are which is painful and difficult. Not an easy book by any means due to the subject content (abusive family, bullying, slurs etc) but wishing Amrou all the best for their future!
June 8, 2020
This book was awesome. It was terrifying and heartbreaking, but it was awesome. It's the story of a boy who grows up in the middle east and then at a public school in Britain and is gay. It's about intolerance and racism and bullying and toxic parents whose approval you would do anything to have. It's about drag and gay culture and the courage to choose your own family.
Side note - the author makes Eton sound like the absolute cesspit of cunts I've always suspected it to be.
Side note - the author makes Eton sound like the absolute cesspit of cunts I've always suspected it to be.
October 23, 2020
i--
spectacular, phenomenal, gorgeously written, emotionally packed, gripping, unique and i could go on and on. i was already teary eyed but when i read the last chapter?? a bitch shed some happy tears.
note : it was so refreshing to take a look at a brown non binary person's struggles and everytime i turned a page, as a brown girl i felt so connected to the author and-- god I'm all over the place I'll just stop here. PLEASE READ THIS BOOK is all I'll say
spectacular, phenomenal, gorgeously written, emotionally packed, gripping, unique and i could go on and on. i was already teary eyed but when i read the last chapter?? a bitch shed some happy tears.
note : it was so refreshing to take a look at a brown non binary person's struggles and everytime i turned a page, as a brown girl i felt so connected to the author and-- god I'm all over the place I'll just stop here. PLEASE READ THIS BOOK is all I'll say
May 25, 2020
I loved this book!! and also the fact that Amrou al-Kadhi is the narrator of their audio book was so special. Amrou has a very pleasant voice. Beautifully emotionally written memoir to cry and laugh with (sometimes at the same moment) love love love it.
January 22, 2021
One of the most moving stories I have read recently. A window to fluid gender identity, and intersection with culture. Heartwarming, authentical and beautifully written. I even read the acknowledgements. Thank you for your story Amrou. ❤️
February 14, 2021
It’s an interesting story abs perspective but the writing has no momentum
June 12, 2021
Bloody loved this!
July 27, 2024
Reading a book about a person whose life experiences are radically different from one's own can be an eye opening and enlightening experience in terms of opening our minds to what we perceive as different. This candid, often humorous memoir was definitely that.
Amrou's journey from a conservative Iraqi-American family to completely honest self expression and acceptance as Glamrou,a stylish draq queen on stage is told unflinchingly with all the sadness and despair that came from not being understood and loved unconditionally. Amrou's understanding of his own gender fluidity through studying marine biology and later, quantum physics, to understand how no one is just one thing, not even the universe we live in, was very interesting.
There are so many things we don't have the right knowledge about until we hear about them from someone who has lived through them. Amrou's feelings of alienation from his family even as he wanted a life on his own terms, his closeness to his mother that made it even tougher to understand why she couldn't love him as he was, his attempts to distance himself from his Muslim and Asian heritage to blend in as a Londoner and belong so that he no longer felt alone, are all so poignantly related.
Amrou articulates how despite the love his family always gave him, their inability to comprehend his queerness and way of life hurt. The complexity of his family dynamics and navigating so many seemingly conflicting parts of one personality was something quite alien to my world and yet I felt empathy and understanding for what it entailed.
I found myself rooting for Amrou and hoping that he reached a place where his own personality and desires and just the way he was were more than enough for his family to be proud of him and that he recaptured the wonderful bond with his mother who was his inspiration in many ways even though she did not understand his queerness and life choices. I particularly loved his description of his mother and the complicated love they share from when he was a young child trying to grasp the meaning of his femininity in a culture where it was frowned upon.
I love reading memoirs and this was a very well written one.
Amrou's journey from a conservative Iraqi-American family to completely honest self expression and acceptance as Glamrou,a stylish draq queen on stage is told unflinchingly with all the sadness and despair that came from not being understood and loved unconditionally. Amrou's understanding of his own gender fluidity through studying marine biology and later, quantum physics, to understand how no one is just one thing, not even the universe we live in, was very interesting.
There are so many things we don't have the right knowledge about until we hear about them from someone who has lived through them. Amrou's feelings of alienation from his family even as he wanted a life on his own terms, his closeness to his mother that made it even tougher to understand why she couldn't love him as he was, his attempts to distance himself from his Muslim and Asian heritage to blend in as a Londoner and belong so that he no longer felt alone, are all so poignantly related.
Amrou articulates how despite the love his family always gave him, their inability to comprehend his queerness and way of life hurt. The complexity of his family dynamics and navigating so many seemingly conflicting parts of one personality was something quite alien to my world and yet I felt empathy and understanding for what it entailed.
I found myself rooting for Amrou and hoping that he reached a place where his own personality and desires and just the way he was were more than enough for his family to be proud of him and that he recaptured the wonderful bond with his mother who was his inspiration in many ways even though she did not understand his queerness and life choices. I particularly loved his description of his mother and the complicated love they share from when he was a young child trying to grasp the meaning of his femininity in a culture where it was frowned upon.
I love reading memoirs and this was a very well written one.
November 10, 2020
One of the most beautiful books I have read. I have so much love for Amrou for sharing their story.
Not only is this a beautiful book, but it is also fantastically written. Every time I opened its pages, it felt like I was sitting down on a couch with Amrou, having a glass of wine, and having one of those friendship chats about life and the universe.
Deep, inspiring, tragic, hopeful, I found many parts of the universe in Unicorn's pages.
Not only is this a beautiful book, but it is also fantastically written. Every time I opened its pages, it felt like I was sitting down on a couch with Amrou, having a glass of wine, and having one of those friendship chats about life and the universe.
Deep, inspiring, tragic, hopeful, I found many parts of the universe in Unicorn's pages.
October 29, 2021
Bien. Ni fu ni fa. Creo que esperaba mucho más. Y no me mal entiendan, es muy interesante conocer historias de personas con realidades diferentes a la nuestra, pero al final me pareció bastante tibia la historia, en cierta parte no hay algo que sea un mega diferenciador de la mayoría de historias de personas de la comunidad LGBT. El problema creo fueron dos: en primer lugar al no conocer al autor carezco de contexto profundo de su personalidad, trabajo, ámbito, etc. En segundo es que en mi expectativa esperaba que estas memorias me mostraran un poco más a fondo la cultura musulmana y su visión de cosas tan chocantes como la orientación sexual, el hacer drag, etc. Pero no fue así, osea si la religión y cultura se mencionan, pero muy dadas por hecho y sentado, solo hasta el final en el cierre del libro es que se hace un poco más de análisis de esta.
March 23, 2021
Portsmouth Library book.
Thank you to Michelle for recommending this book.
This is the second drag queen biography I've read and this one was heartfelt and engaging. Glamrou is Iraqi and raised in mainly in Britain. Their story of growing up in the UK and their conflict with their culture reminded me of my time in Egypt and the people I knew there struggling with western and middle-eastern ideologies clashing.
Most interestingly was Glamrou's reconnection with Islam that so far had excluded and demonised them in their past and make it their own as part of a queer muslim group.
This biography was heartfelt and had all the ups and downs of being queer in current society. It was also interesting to read about Eton College and Cambridge University from a non-Conservative point of view.
Thank you to Michelle for recommending this book.
This is the second drag queen biography I've read and this one was heartfelt and engaging. Glamrou is Iraqi and raised in mainly in Britain. Their story of growing up in the UK and their conflict with their culture reminded me of my time in Egypt and the people I knew there struggling with western and middle-eastern ideologies clashing.
Most interestingly was Glamrou's reconnection with Islam that so far had excluded and demonised them in their past and make it their own as part of a queer muslim group.
This biography was heartfelt and had all the ups and downs of being queer in current society. It was also interesting to read about Eton College and Cambridge University from a non-Conservative point of view.
December 29, 2020
Very honest, self-reflective, and insightful. I really liked how the memoir was laid out, I have had troubles with memoirs this year, this was the only one to keep my interest.
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