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The Go-Between: A Memoir of Growing Up Between Different Worlds
The son of Afghan parents, Osman Yousefzada was raised in post-industrial Birmingham. Osman's father was a carpenter, and his mother, to help make ends meet, took up sewing and became a seamstress. Women from Indian-East African, Israeli, Shia and Afghan communities came together in the Yousefzada household to have clothes made and mended by his mother. Osman learned the craft at her knee and became enraptured by what was deemed a woman's job, and increasingly found himself at odds with the highly patriarchal culture he grew up in.
Whether secretly bringing his sister books and magazines from the local library, lusting after forbidden jelly in the local shop, or chatting to the area's prostitutes, Osman quietly weaved in and out of different spheres.
But no one can be a go-between forever, and Osman's is a story of finding your own way, even if it means turning your back on the world you know.
Whether secretly bringing his sister books and magazines from the local library, lusting after forbidden jelly in the local shop, or chatting to the area's prostitutes, Osman quietly weaved in and out of different spheres.
But no one can be a go-between forever, and Osman's is a story of finding your own way, even if it means turning your back on the world you know.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published April 5, 2022
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745 people want to read
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July 18, 2022
Update Only a Muslim could write this book. Everyone else would be accused of extreme Islamophobia. The author rells the story of an alternative universe, growing up in Birmingham in the 90s, where fundamentalist Islam rules his family and where the whole community live in another world where the laws that govern the rest of us do not apply and are not enforced the authorities. The author's parents, from Afghanistan, are illiterate, and this is the main mystery of the book: quite how his carpenter father who works very hard comes by the money for a 7 bedroom house is not explained.
His sisters are put into purdah - burqa and niqab at age 11 - and illegally left school on the pretext of going abroad with their parents. The author says it was happening under the local authorities noses but nothing was done. No doubt for the same reason as the Rochdale grooming gangs got away with it for more than 20 years, where the police admitted they didn't want to appear Islamophobic (better that innumerable vulnerable little girls were raped and traffiked. They did attend classes in Pashto and Urdu, escorted to the teachers by their brother since the girls weren't allowed to go out alone.
They were taken out of school because, "An educated woman was unthinkable; she would not do the bidding of her husband, she would be difficult, she would meet someone else and want to make her own decisions about her future." And eventually 'the righteous father' would ber forced to kill her to keep his family's honour intact. In other words, what the other Muslims in the community thought of the father and his family was much more important than the lives of his daughters or wives.
They were turned into submissive servants, as the father said when arriving home and not being met at the door by one of them, bellowed, "Am I suppose to make my own tea and dinner?" His father's attitude towards women, oft repeated to his wife, was womankind is a slipper, you slip off one and put on another. Slippers touched the dirty ground, and were interchangeable.
Women are taught, "You had to listen to your husband, no matter if he was wrong; your husband is your god on earth." The author does say there were men who loved their wives, who made them cups of tea and even looked after the children if the wife was sick. But not in his household, where his law was enforced by frequent beatings.
His uncle, a kindly man, who questioned so many beatings, had 'only' four daughters, no sons, so he brought up his eldest as a boy. This has to be the ultimate in misogyny.
There is an interesting view of wearing burkha and niqab,
It isn't all about girls leaving school at 11, or one sister running away from home, or another being forced into an unhappy marriage (from which she triumped, becoming a dinner lady and eventually a PhD in women's abuse). It's also about a Muslim boy discovering the wider world. His stories on books on puberty and subsequently masturbation (hiding the tissues behind the wardrobe) are funny and vulnerable.
The author, a talented artist, eventually left home and attended art school. He's a talented writer too. But his story is just one of adjusting from fundamentalist Islam to being a citizen of the West and so is less intersting to me, whose main political concern in this world, is my half of the sky. I don't care about religion, or much politics, or customs, or race, or size, unless they impinge on all women, I could have been any of them, it was just luck that got me born into freedom and choice (although the present deviant misogyny by certain activist groups today is impinging on my rights too).
The author's eldest brother, Barak-Shah, had an unhappy arranged marriage. When that ended he wanted a modern marriage. keaving the old ways behind, and his wife drove herself around, wore what she pleased, and lived life as we do. And Barak-Shah was happy. His father and the family were not.
In the Caribbean, all Arabs are called 'Syrians' although they are either Palestinian or Lebanese. On my island, the Palestinians are more fundamentalist - you don't see the women much, there are arranged marriages with bride/grooms sent over from Jerusalem or Palestine - and the Lebanese are entirely modern. The women wear shorts, false eyelashes and work. But both Palestinians and Lebanese attend the same mosques.
The father's views of Christians was very weird. I wonder how common it is (I also wonder how common the support for Hamas's genocidal Charter to kill all Jews (not 'just' Israelis) which they say is from the Qu'ran, is?). He says that Christians don't even know that Jesus wasn't crucified on a cross but taken up to heaven by God. The Romans had crucified the wrong man, "Look at them crying over the wrong person." He is said to have chuckled how they got it all wrong and changed, as the Jews did, their holy books and didn't know what the truth was, hence Mohammed was sent.
Of the the three sisers, the eldest Banafsha, functionally illiterate, was married off at 17, and left with three children by her husband. The youngest, Marjan was married to save the family's honour after the middle sister Ruksar ran away from home. Marjan became a dinner lady, working her way up to gaining a PhD in the abuse of women. Ruksar ran away from home, never letting her family know where she was. Eventually when the author was established in his own studio, she visited him - she had a degree in political science and was running an election campaign for a government minister (despite it all, didn't the father's daughters do well?)
The author told his father of the visit hoping he would welcome her back into the family, but the father said,
My only issue with the book is that it ended too abruptly, I wanted more I wanted to know how the author was doing, and his sisters, and their children. I hope the author writes a follow-up book.
It was a good book, very well written, an insider's view of fundamentalist Islam in the UK and how the authorities turn a blind eye to the abuses of girls and women because we females count less than a possible accusation of Islamophobia. One of my favourite quotes,
Notes on Reading The saddest thing I've read so far, is a woman not allowed to go beyond her front door to be with her daughter who has been run over in a traffic accident in front of her, because there are men there, policemen, ambulance men, and because she does not have her husband's permisssion. Her husband is praised for his stricteness, and she for her obedience.
It reminds me of something in a book I was reading recently, but it was in the news, so some might recall it, of a girls' school that burned down in Saudi Arabia where the fleeing girls were pushed back into the school to be burned alive because the 'morals' (meaning totally-immoral) police wouldn't let the girls out because they weren't covered up, didn't have their hijab on and the firefighters were male. It looks the same thing. Women are slaves or possessions and their life or death is of no more consequence than any other slave or possession.
_________
I listened to this through headphones whilst having extractions, implants, endless injections and other things that need major distraction from. It worked, to some extent!
His sisters are put into purdah - burqa and niqab at age 11 - and illegally left school on the pretext of going abroad with their parents. The author says it was happening under the local authorities noses but nothing was done. No doubt for the same reason as the Rochdale grooming gangs got away with it for more than 20 years, where the police admitted they didn't want to appear Islamophobic (better that innumerable vulnerable little girls were raped and traffiked. They did attend classes in Pashto and Urdu, escorted to the teachers by their brother since the girls weren't allowed to go out alone.
They were taken out of school because, "An educated woman was unthinkable; she would not do the bidding of her husband, she would be difficult, she would meet someone else and want to make her own decisions about her future." And eventually 'the righteous father' would ber forced to kill her to keep his family's honour intact. In other words, what the other Muslims in the community thought of the father and his family was much more important than the lives of his daughters or wives.
They were turned into submissive servants, as the father said when arriving home and not being met at the door by one of them, bellowed, "Am I suppose to make my own tea and dinner?" His father's attitude towards women, oft repeated to his wife, was womankind is a slipper, you slip off one and put on another. Slippers touched the dirty ground, and were interchangeable.
Women are taught, "You had to listen to your husband, no matter if he was wrong; your husband is your god on earth." The author does say there were men who loved their wives, who made them cups of tea and even looked after the children if the wife was sick. But not in his household, where his law was enforced by frequent beatings.
His uncle, a kindly man, who questioned so many beatings, had 'only' four daughters, no sons, so he brought up his eldest as a boy. This has to be the ultimate in misogyny.
There is an interesting view of wearing burkha and niqab,
The robes they wore hid all visible identity and defnition, denying them silhouettes. Some felt naked if they dressed any other way. This was their space and this was the godly attire which gave them comfort and protection. Some carried their pain under these robes until they cast them off inside the four walls of their home, away from eyes that couldn't shame and tarnish them.Even wearing a bra, which 'altered their shape contrary to the Prophet's law' is forbidden. How can someone being looked at shame and tarnish them anyway, that is not explained.
It isn't all about girls leaving school at 11, or one sister running away from home, or another being forced into an unhappy marriage (from which she triumped, becoming a dinner lady and eventually a PhD in women's abuse). It's also about a Muslim boy discovering the wider world. His stories on books on puberty and subsequently masturbation (hiding the tissues behind the wardrobe) are funny and vulnerable.
The author, a talented artist, eventually left home and attended art school. He's a talented writer too. But his story is just one of adjusting from fundamentalist Islam to being a citizen of the West and so is less intersting to me, whose main political concern in this world, is my half of the sky. I don't care about religion, or much politics, or customs, or race, or size, unless they impinge on all women, I could have been any of them, it was just luck that got me born into freedom and choice (although the present deviant misogyny by certain activist groups today is impinging on my rights too).
The author's eldest brother, Barak-Shah, had an unhappy arranged marriage. When that ended he wanted a modern marriage. keaving the old ways behind, and his wife drove herself around, wore what she pleased, and lived life as we do. And Barak-Shah was happy. His father and the family were not.
In the Caribbean, all Arabs are called 'Syrians' although they are either Palestinian or Lebanese. On my island, the Palestinians are more fundamentalist - you don't see the women much, there are arranged marriages with bride/grooms sent over from Jerusalem or Palestine - and the Lebanese are entirely modern. The women wear shorts, false eyelashes and work. But both Palestinians and Lebanese attend the same mosques.
The father's views of Christians was very weird. I wonder how common it is (I also wonder how common the support for Hamas's genocidal Charter to kill all Jews (not 'just' Israelis) which they say is from the Qu'ran, is?). He says that Christians don't even know that Jesus wasn't crucified on a cross but taken up to heaven by God. The Romans had crucified the wrong man, "Look at them crying over the wrong person." He is said to have chuckled how they got it all wrong and changed, as the Jews did, their holy books and didn't know what the truth was, hence Mohammed was sent.
Of the the three sisers, the eldest Banafsha, functionally illiterate, was married off at 17, and left with three children by her husband. The youngest, Marjan was married to save the family's honour after the middle sister Ruksar ran away from home. Marjan became a dinner lady, working her way up to gaining a PhD in the abuse of women. Ruksar ran away from home, never letting her family know where she was. Eventually when the author was established in his own studio, she visited him - she had a degree in political science and was running an election campaign for a government minister (despite it all, didn't the father's daughters do well?)
The author told his father of the visit hoping he would welcome her back into the family, but the father said,
"You are without honour. You are without shame. This is a stain that won't be expunged. There is no salve for this. I can't hold my head up high any more and if you had any honour you should have killed her when you saw her."The book ends on a hopeful note, saying that today's girls no longer needed a go-between, as he had been for his sisters. They could go to school, and even walks in the park and to buy their own clothes. But still the arranged marriages, the honour killings, the enshrouding of little girls in burqa and niqab, the grooming gangs continue. And I doubt the 'hopeful' note contains a better attitude towards LGBT or transexual folk. But then why would any man want to become a woman in a society like that?
My only issue with the book is that it ended too abruptly, I wanted more I wanted to know how the author was doing, and his sisters, and their children. I hope the author writes a follow-up book.
It was a good book, very well written, an insider's view of fundamentalist Islam in the UK and how the authorities turn a blind eye to the abuses of girls and women because we females count less than a possible accusation of Islamophobia. One of my favourite quotes,
I asked them why when they persecute men, for religion or colour it was seen by the world as oppression and when they persecute women, it was dismissed as tradition. ― Emer Martin, Baby Zero__________
Notes on Reading The saddest thing I've read so far, is a woman not allowed to go beyond her front door to be with her daughter who has been run over in a traffic accident in front of her, because there are men there, policemen, ambulance men, and because she does not have her husband's permisssion. Her husband is praised for his stricteness, and she for her obedience.
It reminds me of something in a book I was reading recently, but it was in the news, so some might recall it, of a girls' school that burned down in Saudi Arabia where the fleeing girls were pushed back into the school to be burned alive because the 'morals' (meaning totally-immoral) police wouldn't let the girls out because they weren't covered up, didn't have their hijab on and the firefighters were male. It looks the same thing. Women are slaves or possessions and their life or death is of no more consequence than any other slave or possession.
_________
I listened to this through headphones whilst having extractions, implants, endless injections and other things that need major distraction from. It worked, to some extent!
November 13, 2025
أنا بحب الكتاب ده قوي. شىء عجيب أن طفولتي اللي كانت في مصر، في أوائل الألفية، تكون مشابهة لطفولة ولد باكستاني في المهجر الإنجليزي في الثمانينيات. اتقال لنا نفس الكلام، خفنا من ارتكاب نفس الذنوب والبدع، حفظنا نفس الآيات وأحببنا وكلمنا وارتعبنا من نفس الإله.
عثمان اللي كبر وبقى مصمم أزياء معروف، كتب عن طفولته أساسًا من خلال النساء اللي أحطن بيه، أمه وأخواته والجارات وعاهرات الحي وحبيبات الدراسة، كتب عنهن كلهن بعين عطوفة مشفقة، وعن عالمهن كأنه الفردوس الذي طرد منه بسبب ذكورته. ملاحظاته جميلة، لم ير عالمه الذكوري المسلم المهاجر الذي اختبر الاستعمار كأنه جماعة من أنبياء معصومين رغم صفات البوشمن ذوي الكبرياء والنزاهة، أو من حثالة رغم أنهم ضربوا نسائهم ومارسوا رذائل حرموها على أهل بيتهم. كانوا بشرًا، كانوا أهله، وكان صادقًا في حكيه وأديبًا وفنانًا في لغته وأوصافه. أنا طالعة من الكتاب هموت على حتة قماش برتقالية حريرية مرصعة من أطرافها بالخيوط الذهبية صنعت منها أمه فستانًا للجارة طنط فرزانة، من مجرد وصفه الساحر لها.
عثمان اللي كبر وبقى مصمم أزياء معروف، كتب عن طفولته أساسًا من خلال النساء اللي أحطن بيه، أمه وأخواته والجارات وعاهرات الحي وحبيبات الدراسة، كتب عنهن كلهن بعين عطوفة مشفقة، وعن عالمهن كأنه الفردوس الذي طرد منه بسبب ذكورته. ملاحظاته جميلة، لم ير عالمه الذكوري المسلم المهاجر الذي اختبر الاستعمار كأنه جماعة من أنبياء معصومين رغم صفات البوشمن ذوي الكبرياء والنزاهة، أو من حثالة رغم أنهم ضربوا نسائهم ومارسوا رذائل حرموها على أهل بيتهم. كانوا بشرًا، كانوا أهله، وكان صادقًا في حكيه وأديبًا وفنانًا في لغته وأوصافه. أنا طالعة من الكتاب هموت على حتة قماش برتقالية حريرية مرصعة من أطرافها بالخيوط الذهبية صنعت منها أمه فستانًا للجارة طنط فرزانة، من مجرد وصفه الساحر لها.
May 14, 2025
THE GO-BETWEEN is both a memoir and a love letter to the women forming the marrow of Yousefzada's boyhood. Most notably, though, it serves as a reckoning with the more destructive facets of his past.
Having grown up in an orthodox Muslim community, obscured by the lawlessness of Birmingham's poorer regions, Yousefzada surrenders both the joyful and the unnerving memories framing this period. As a result, we witness the birth of a generational divide between the illiterate "Bushmen" and their English-commanding children.
By detailing a pursuit of autonomy - determined by bouts of confusion and ravenous longings - Yousefzada illustrates how the blend of passion and violence can stain the mind, forcing the body's eventual absolution. Tension makes its first appearance in the form of sex workers slipping beneath the veil of the night on the community's God-fearing streets.
The marriage between prayer and the consummation of flesh breeds sanctimony on more than one occasion, exposing the convulsions of morality. In this quiet storm, Yousefzada acts as the go-between connecting the world of women, seen as inferior and expendable, to that of the men.
As time goes on, and he finds himself expelled from the female realm, this crack begins to gnaw on his identity, pitting cultural constraints against the world of white privilege beckoning him forward. As can be expected, there's a great deal of heartache coursing through the pages, but also an undercurrent of honesty that keeps the prose fresh.
Wife beatings, murders, rigid power dynamics, and stifling gender roles all test the limits of cultural relativism. And yet, Yousefzada presents the mindset that is orbited by these elements in a way that inspires openness and compassion in the reader.
Above all, he allows us to grasp that cruelty and the patriarchy are often perpetuated through a lack of education and exposure - especially by the victims. Judgment is left up to us, leading to an interesting development.
Namely, we begin to exercise our own impartiality, accepting the events not as fodder for a critical tongue, but as the stirrings of a roused mind. It makes sense, then, that humor brushes the edges of the pages. From the case of the appendix laid in sacrifice for some haram - forbidden - jelly, to the author's anarchic passion for books, THE GO-BETWEEN offsets thematic gravity with generous doses of drollery.
Its echo is magnified by the precision of Yousefzada's memories. They accommodate the largeness of the people, tastes, and smells of his past with no trace of impulsivity, wrapping all his relationships in muscle and flesh.
Naturally, this makes the bruising of these bodies all the more physical for the reader. Violence becomes ingrained in the mundane, acting as the basis of Yousefzada's world as much as the trigger for its final dismantling. In a way, he is the band-aid that recounts the tale of its slow ungluing from inoperable faith.
The reign of Margaret Thatcher, rising unemployment, as well as an increase in religious fervor and racial antagonism all come together to form the background of this world. As a result, a socio-political testament to a time cast off by history is formed; one that allows us to drill into the bedrock of postcolonial racism.
Aside from their contextual merits, these events yank on the tensions that keep coiling as the memories surge. Clearly fed by Yousefzada's love of reading, the prose feels delectable, forever tempting as it draws us deeper into the body of cerebral, pleasure-seeking rebellion. The cult of flesh, desired and feared - forbidden but relished in secret - gives rise to moments of betrayal, self-pleasure, cruelty, ecstasy.
This angle inspires Yousefzada's contemplation of the feminine form, particularly the way gaze-stopping clothing - such as a burqa - impairs the body's shape and language. As an artist working with both fabric and build today, the author provides valuable insight into his first stirrings of wonder.
As always, there's a thread of cheer and self-awareness interlaced with violence, challenged by it. Silence, we're reminded, can be just as detrimental to the senses as a shooting fist. Maybe that's why Yousefzada's earliest recollections seem to glow, stoked by deviousness and the love that was yet unfiltered. In contrast, the presentation of his university years seems famished for more detail.
Having said that, it makes perfect sense for the author's formative years to take center stage, especially if we look at adulthood as the often traumatized by-product of our youth. And with some memories bound to pick at scabs with more ferocity than others, relegating them to supporting roles seems only fitting.
Overall, Osman Yousefzada offers us a humane, tantalizing account of a life on the brink of release. Exquisitely written, his transformation serves to elevate the women in his life, allowing their stories to live on in liberated perpetuity.
Having grown up in an orthodox Muslim community, obscured by the lawlessness of Birmingham's poorer regions, Yousefzada surrenders both the joyful and the unnerving memories framing this period. As a result, we witness the birth of a generational divide between the illiterate "Bushmen" and their English-commanding children.
By detailing a pursuit of autonomy - determined by bouts of confusion and ravenous longings - Yousefzada illustrates how the blend of passion and violence can stain the mind, forcing the body's eventual absolution. Tension makes its first appearance in the form of sex workers slipping beneath the veil of the night on the community's God-fearing streets.
The marriage between prayer and the consummation of flesh breeds sanctimony on more than one occasion, exposing the convulsions of morality. In this quiet storm, Yousefzada acts as the go-between connecting the world of women, seen as inferior and expendable, to that of the men.
As time goes on, and he finds himself expelled from the female realm, this crack begins to gnaw on his identity, pitting cultural constraints against the world of white privilege beckoning him forward. As can be expected, there's a great deal of heartache coursing through the pages, but also an undercurrent of honesty that keeps the prose fresh.
Wife beatings, murders, rigid power dynamics, and stifling gender roles all test the limits of cultural relativism. And yet, Yousefzada presents the mindset that is orbited by these elements in a way that inspires openness and compassion in the reader.
Above all, he allows us to grasp that cruelty and the patriarchy are often perpetuated through a lack of education and exposure - especially by the victims. Judgment is left up to us, leading to an interesting development.
Namely, we begin to exercise our own impartiality, accepting the events not as fodder for a critical tongue, but as the stirrings of a roused mind. It makes sense, then, that humor brushes the edges of the pages. From the case of the appendix laid in sacrifice for some haram - forbidden - jelly, to the author's anarchic passion for books, THE GO-BETWEEN offsets thematic gravity with generous doses of drollery.
Its echo is magnified by the precision of Yousefzada's memories. They accommodate the largeness of the people, tastes, and smells of his past with no trace of impulsivity, wrapping all his relationships in muscle and flesh.
Naturally, this makes the bruising of these bodies all the more physical for the reader. Violence becomes ingrained in the mundane, acting as the basis of Yousefzada's world as much as the trigger for its final dismantling. In a way, he is the band-aid that recounts the tale of its slow ungluing from inoperable faith.
The reign of Margaret Thatcher, rising unemployment, as well as an increase in religious fervor and racial antagonism all come together to form the background of this world. As a result, a socio-political testament to a time cast off by history is formed; one that allows us to drill into the bedrock of postcolonial racism.
Aside from their contextual merits, these events yank on the tensions that keep coiling as the memories surge. Clearly fed by Yousefzada's love of reading, the prose feels delectable, forever tempting as it draws us deeper into the body of cerebral, pleasure-seeking rebellion. The cult of flesh, desired and feared - forbidden but relished in secret - gives rise to moments of betrayal, self-pleasure, cruelty, ecstasy.
This angle inspires Yousefzada's contemplation of the feminine form, particularly the way gaze-stopping clothing - such as a burqa - impairs the body's shape and language. As an artist working with both fabric and build today, the author provides valuable insight into his first stirrings of wonder.
As always, there's a thread of cheer and self-awareness interlaced with violence, challenged by it. Silence, we're reminded, can be just as detrimental to the senses as a shooting fist. Maybe that's why Yousefzada's earliest recollections seem to glow, stoked by deviousness and the love that was yet unfiltered. In contrast, the presentation of his university years seems famished for more detail.
Having said that, it makes perfect sense for the author's formative years to take center stage, especially if we look at adulthood as the often traumatized by-product of our youth. And with some memories bound to pick at scabs with more ferocity than others, relegating them to supporting roles seems only fitting.
Overall, Osman Yousefzada offers us a humane, tantalizing account of a life on the brink of release. Exquisitely written, his transformation serves to elevate the women in his life, allowing their stories to live on in liberated perpetuity.
February 28, 2022
Highly recommend this book. More than a memoir, this is a social commentary on a secluded immigrant community of the Pashtun people in the heart of Great Britain. This in depth look at the aspirations, fears, and thought processes of a family sheds some light on the reasons behind the lack of assimilation of many migrants in the British society. Peppered with hilarious anecdotes, beautiful Pashtun names and codes of Pashtunwali, it’s also an engaging story of a brave boy’s journey from the ghettos of Birmingham to the red carpets of Hollywood. I would urge Osman to tell us more, maybe in the form of another book, about the latter part of his life ie. His time at Saint Martins and then in the fashion industry. His courageous sisters - Rukhsar and Marjan- deserve books of their own that tell their amazing story of putting themselves back in school and making a life for themselves that’s far removed from the strict orthodox community they grew up in.
April 17, 2023
utterly fascinating - lyrical prose is a win every time and osman yousefzada uses it beautifully to capture his childhood and coming of age. i had very little knowledge of orthodox pashtun culture going into this memoir and yousefzada makes you feel right at home, looking through a child’s eyes into his home in ‘80s birmingham.
ONLY misses out on 5 stars because i felt so deeply for the women in his story and would have welcomed a higher focus on their individuality (his sisters for example); i do however appreciate that he is telling his own story and potentially doesn’t want to co opt theirs
ONLY misses out on 5 stars because i felt so deeply for the women in his story and would have welcomed a higher focus on their individuality (his sisters for example); i do however appreciate that he is telling his own story and potentially doesn’t want to co opt theirs
October 22, 2023
So interesting, this guy has been through so much.
I’m amazed how he has used that pain and trauma to make something beautiful: his art.
Really liked the way it was written, I feel like I learned a lot from this!
I’m amazed how he has used that pain and trauma to make something beautiful: his art.
Really liked the way it was written, I feel like I learned a lot from this!
February 21, 2022
Today is my stop on the blog tour for 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝐆𝐎-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 by Osman Yousefzada. Thank you to Anne Cater at RandomThingsTours and Canongate for having me along, and for sending me a copy of the book.
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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 ... 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨-𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧 ... 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫, '𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧.'
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The Go-Between is an autobiographical account of Osman Yousefzada's upbringing, family, and life so far.
As the son of Afghan parents who moved to the UK, Yousefzada was raised in a very patriarchical environment.
As an artist and designer, it seems he learned a lot from his Mother, who created a business through her abilities as a seamstress, and who encouraged the women in their community to express themselves through their beautiful clothing, even if they couldn't express themselves in other ways.
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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧; 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬-𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬 ... 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬 ... 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.
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Despite depicting a true reflection of his childhood and experiences growing up, which weren't all happy experiences, one thing that stood out to me is Yousefzada's compassion for his parents.
It seems that he doesn't agree with their way of life, or the strong patriarchal and controlling aspects of their religion, but he reflects on their own lives and upbringings with empathy and grace.
He may be critical of his Father's anger, and the treatment of women and girls in the society he grew up in, but he is not cruel in his judgement of them; instead he recognises the unique challenges they faced.
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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.
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There is obviously a strong focus on tradition and upholding certain values in the community that Yousefzada grew up in.
I don't know that all Muslim communities are as strict, and I would hope that as time has gone on, some more freedoms are afforded to young girls and women in these communities, but if not I do feel it is a real shame that lots of girls are not being allowed to fulfil their potential.
While Yousefzada's book does paint a fairly negative story about his upbringing, it is a truthful portrayal based on his own memories and experiences.
While some readers and reviewers may not like the fact that the book paints his childhood environment/community in a fairly poor light, it's important to acknowledge that these memories are his own, and they are valid.
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𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤-𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.
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Yousefzada's story is not all bleak though, ultimately it is a hopeful story about him breaking free of the constraints and control from his family and religion, and ultimately developing as an artist into a freer and happier individual. Clearly he is an incredibly successful person today, but there was a lot of anguish that he had to overcome to transition into the person he is now.
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𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
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I'd recommend this book for anyone who is interested in Osman Yousefzada, for anyone who likes autobiographies, and to anyone who enjoys reading about cultures that may be different to their own.
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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 ... 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨-𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧 ... 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫, '𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧.'
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The Go-Between is an autobiographical account of Osman Yousefzada's upbringing, family, and life so far.
As the son of Afghan parents who moved to the UK, Yousefzada was raised in a very patriarchical environment.
As an artist and designer, it seems he learned a lot from his Mother, who created a business through her abilities as a seamstress, and who encouraged the women in their community to express themselves through their beautiful clothing, even if they couldn't express themselves in other ways.
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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧; 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬-𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬 ... 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬 ... 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.
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Despite depicting a true reflection of his childhood and experiences growing up, which weren't all happy experiences, one thing that stood out to me is Yousefzada's compassion for his parents.
It seems that he doesn't agree with their way of life, or the strong patriarchal and controlling aspects of their religion, but he reflects on their own lives and upbringings with empathy and grace.
He may be critical of his Father's anger, and the treatment of women and girls in the society he grew up in, but he is not cruel in his judgement of them; instead he recognises the unique challenges they faced.
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𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.
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There is obviously a strong focus on tradition and upholding certain values in the community that Yousefzada grew up in.
I don't know that all Muslim communities are as strict, and I would hope that as time has gone on, some more freedoms are afforded to young girls and women in these communities, but if not I do feel it is a real shame that lots of girls are not being allowed to fulfil their potential.
While Yousefzada's book does paint a fairly negative story about his upbringing, it is a truthful portrayal based on his own memories and experiences.
While some readers and reviewers may not like the fact that the book paints his childhood environment/community in a fairly poor light, it's important to acknowledge that these memories are his own, and they are valid.
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𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤-𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.
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Yousefzada's story is not all bleak though, ultimately it is a hopeful story about him breaking free of the constraints and control from his family and religion, and ultimately developing as an artist into a freer and happier individual. Clearly he is an incredibly successful person today, but there was a lot of anguish that he had to overcome to transition into the person he is now.
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𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.
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I'd recommend this book for anyone who is interested in Osman Yousefzada, for anyone who likes autobiographies, and to anyone who enjoys reading about cultures that may be different to their own.
September 15, 2023
I am glad Osman wrote this ... thank you so much for the reminders, for sharing, for admitting. I pray for a better future for the girls of your community, and the women of Afghanistan.
August 8, 2025
DNF @ 25%
In some ways, it is not the book, it is me - this was a book club pick and this is not something I would have selected myself, so it started at a disadvantage.
In other ways - it is very much the book. When you are writing a memoir, it is very hard to make people care about your writing unless they know who you (like Tom Felton) are or your (ghost)writing makes them care (like Jennette McCurdy). This was neither - I have no idea who the author is, and at 1/4 into the book, there are mostly clunky ramblings about childhood in the 1980s Birmingham migrant neighbourhood where everyone appears to be a wife abuser. Are female oppression and misogyny important topics to discuss? Absolutely. Could this be handled in a way which made the reading experience more interesting while still getting the message across? 100%. I am DNFing because there seems to be no respite, no humour, no good examples of living in such a community. Life was bleak for everyone, it seems. Maybe it gets better but I have no desire to carry on reading something which makes me think the author should have gone to see a therapist rather than a publisher.
In some ways, it is not the book, it is me - this was a book club pick and this is not something I would have selected myself, so it started at a disadvantage.
In other ways - it is very much the book. When you are writing a memoir, it is very hard to make people care about your writing unless they know who you (like Tom Felton) are or your (ghost)writing makes them care (like Jennette McCurdy). This was neither - I have no idea who the author is, and at 1/4 into the book, there are mostly clunky ramblings about childhood in the 1980s Birmingham migrant neighbourhood where everyone appears to be a wife abuser. Are female oppression and misogyny important topics to discuss? Absolutely. Could this be handled in a way which made the reading experience more interesting while still getting the message across? 100%. I am DNFing because there seems to be no respite, no humour, no good examples of living in such a community. Life was bleak for everyone, it seems. Maybe it gets better but I have no desire to carry on reading something which makes me think the author should have gone to see a therapist rather than a publisher.
March 15, 2022
The structure of this memoir reminded me of Andre Aciman's Out of Egypt memoir, which I found extraordinary. Both are memoirs of large families and social spheres, and involve being an outsider. You can see here Osman's creativity growing from his mother's ideas and use of fabrics, and it was encouraged a bit in school. He is now a successful artist and designer.
4.5
Cambridgeshire library
4.5
Cambridgeshire library
August 1, 2022
'What I loved was the pace of their days, which had a clarity but also a dreaminess; the ceremonies, the observances of hospitality, what to offer and what to say when a guest arrived. Life was slower inside the house, for me amongst these women; it was a life to be savoured.'
February 17, 2022
The Go-Between
By Osman Yousefzada
“A coming-of-age story set in Birmingham in the 1980s and 1990s, The Go-Between opens a window into a closed migrant community living in a red-light district on the wrong side of the tracks. The adult world is seen through Osman's eyes as a child: his own devout Pashtun patriarchal community, with its divide between the world of men and women, living cheek-by-jowl with parallel migrant communities. The orthodox attend a mosque down the road from the prostitutes and pimps. Children balance Western school teachings with cultural traditions. Osman weaves in and out of these worlds, struggling with the dual burdens of racism and community expectations, as he is forced to realise it is no longer possible to exist in the spaces in between.”
A beautifully written memoir telling Osman’s story of childhood to adulthood; from his mother’s lap among the women of the immigrant community to the overwhelmingly patriarchal community at his local mosque. Osman’s stories are all at once touching, funny and enlightening.
We follow Osman through his childhood, caught between totally different worlds and into adulthood as he finds himself in London studying at university and living away from the expectations of his family in Birmingham.
Thanks so much Canongate Books and Random Things Tours for my gifted copy of this book, all opinions are my own.
By Osman Yousefzada
“A coming-of-age story set in Birmingham in the 1980s and 1990s, The Go-Between opens a window into a closed migrant community living in a red-light district on the wrong side of the tracks. The adult world is seen through Osman's eyes as a child: his own devout Pashtun patriarchal community, with its divide between the world of men and women, living cheek-by-jowl with parallel migrant communities. The orthodox attend a mosque down the road from the prostitutes and pimps. Children balance Western school teachings with cultural traditions. Osman weaves in and out of these worlds, struggling with the dual burdens of racism and community expectations, as he is forced to realise it is no longer possible to exist in the spaces in between.”
A beautifully written memoir telling Osman’s story of childhood to adulthood; from his mother’s lap among the women of the immigrant community to the overwhelmingly patriarchal community at his local mosque. Osman’s stories are all at once touching, funny and enlightening.
We follow Osman through his childhood, caught between totally different worlds and into adulthood as he finds himself in London studying at university and living away from the expectations of his family in Birmingham.
Thanks so much Canongate Books and Random Things Tours for my gifted copy of this book, all opinions are my own.
February 3, 2023
Yousefzada grew up in Balsall Heath in an orthodox Muslim family in the 80s. In his book, he details the brutality people of colour faced, including gang rivalries and targeted hate crimes. He recounts the patriarchal norms in his community, where women were controlled by their husbands, facing honour-based violence. Girls were taken out of school as they reached puberty; education was seen as a man’s world. Yousefzada also depicts how Magaret Thatcher devastated the immigrant population. How the Iron Lady caused the community to live in fear of deportation, and the crushing impacts of the merciless removal of factory jobs in Birmingham.
Reading Yousefzada’s book was an eye-opener. It made me realise how far Birmingham has progressed, to the point where its multiculturalism is known as its greatest asset. Seeing Yousefzada rebel against masculine expectations, and fight for creative freedom is inspiring- especially as his work influences the next generation of BAME artists to follow in his footsteps and defy the norm.
Reading Yousefzada’s book was an eye-opener. It made me realise how far Birmingham has progressed, to the point where its multiculturalism is known as its greatest asset. Seeing Yousefzada rebel against masculine expectations, and fight for creative freedom is inspiring- especially as his work influences the next generation of BAME artists to follow in his footsteps and defy the norm.
June 22, 2023
Book Review by Serina Hartwell – The Go Between by Osman Yousefzada
Brutally honest, refreshing, raw, gritty funny and sad, all wrapped up into one. A childhood set in a history I recall, left me reminiscent of my own, whilst being reminded of much harsher times. Children were to be seen and not heard.
I finished reading Osman Yousefzada’s autobiography yesterday; I only bought it on Monday night and almost finished it in one sitting. It's the best biography I've read. Osman conveys such an honest and raw telling of a life story from a distant past, yet it was only yesterday when I think back. The well and the bucket quota was simply genius; I laughed myself to sleep as I bookmarked my page.
I am readying myself to meet this prolific man tomorrow, whose accomplishments, I can only awe at. Reading Osman’s accounts of the past described a life that I felt touched upon my own beginnings in some ways. I felt like I stood on the other side of the mirror. Growing up in a community where only streets away an Asian community resided, most of my friends were Asian. We didn’t care about racism, we left that to others. We just had fun and hung out as kids. The past Osman described made me re-visit other, more frowned upon moments too, on this unbridled venture, which left me laughing intensely at times and holding back tears at others. His recollections gave me a few answers from my own past about things that I’d wondered about.
He doesn’t know it, but I’m the person who is going to be his chaperone tomorrow, while he speaks of a life well lived and barriers overcome to my year 10s, who will pick their nose, and shuffle in their seat, and mess about, while their teacher’s back is turned, because something different has been arranged for a Friday afternoon. I’m the librarian.
When he described his desire to read, it took me back to my own visits to the school library and finding all the treasures the library had to offer. I am wondering if I should hide the books though. On the eve of his visit, I give his book 5 solid stars and know that shuffling aside, his message about where he came from and how he soared to the top will have an impact on the students, even if they don’t show it and they won’t.
Brutally honest, refreshing, raw, gritty funny and sad, all wrapped up into one. A childhood set in a history I recall, left me reminiscent of my own, whilst being reminded of much harsher times. Children were to be seen and not heard.
I finished reading Osman Yousefzada’s autobiography yesterday; I only bought it on Monday night and almost finished it in one sitting. It's the best biography I've read. Osman conveys such an honest and raw telling of a life story from a distant past, yet it was only yesterday when I think back. The well and the bucket quota was simply genius; I laughed myself to sleep as I bookmarked my page.
I am readying myself to meet this prolific man tomorrow, whose accomplishments, I can only awe at. Reading Osman’s accounts of the past described a life that I felt touched upon my own beginnings in some ways. I felt like I stood on the other side of the mirror. Growing up in a community where only streets away an Asian community resided, most of my friends were Asian. We didn’t care about racism, we left that to others. We just had fun and hung out as kids. The past Osman described made me re-visit other, more frowned upon moments too, on this unbridled venture, which left me laughing intensely at times and holding back tears at others. His recollections gave me a few answers from my own past about things that I’d wondered about.
He doesn’t know it, but I’m the person who is going to be his chaperone tomorrow, while he speaks of a life well lived and barriers overcome to my year 10s, who will pick their nose, and shuffle in their seat, and mess about, while their teacher’s back is turned, because something different has been arranged for a Friday afternoon. I’m the librarian.
When he described his desire to read, it took me back to my own visits to the school library and finding all the treasures the library had to offer. I am wondering if I should hide the books though. On the eve of his visit, I give his book 5 solid stars and know that shuffling aside, his message about where he came from and how he soared to the top will have an impact on the students, even if they don’t show it and they won’t.
April 26, 2024
This was a present that worked! Usually I don't like being given books as gifts but feel duty bound to read them, but this was no duty as it is a delightful read. It resonated for me as it is the author's experience of growing up in Balsall Heath in Birmingham in the 1980s. This was an inner city area of significant depravation, with multiculturalism supposedly at its heart, although the different communities tended to keep separate. It is where I lived from about 1980-1987 - hence the resonance. However, my experience and Osman's experience couldn't have been more different. His is about growing up in a divided world - where men and women lead separate lives, where women have no autonomy and cannot venture outside without a male relative once they had reached 'womanhood' however that was randomly determined. It was also a divided world between his very strict community, the Pathadan community from the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan, and the rest of Balsall Heath with all its many temptations and treats. The author's navigation through these different worlds can make for a tough read, especially as a feminist, and he recognises and, indeed, experiences the disconnection. It's an excellent book that is filled with love for the women in his life and their love for him.
The section where he talks about the mosque's determination that the prostitutes should be moved off the streets (Balsall Heath was a 'safe' area as it was the known 'red light' district) brought back so many memories of elderly Muslim men telling me and my female partner to get off the streets and to go home - often being quite intimidating but we could intimidate back. It was a tough time for women on those streets as their action to 'cleanse' the streets made them less safe for women...and it soon stopped, but, by then, the harm had been done and the prostitutes had moved out or indoors.
The section where he talks about the mosque's determination that the prostitutes should be moved off the streets (Balsall Heath was a 'safe' area as it was the known 'red light' district) brought back so many memories of elderly Muslim men telling me and my female partner to get off the streets and to go home - often being quite intimidating but we could intimidate back. It was a tough time for women on those streets as their action to 'cleanse' the streets made them less safe for women...and it soon stopped, but, by then, the harm had been done and the prostitutes had moved out or indoors.
February 23, 2022
The Go-Betwen by visual artist and designer Osman Yousefzada belongs to the second category. Telling a story about one´s life should not be a narcissistic outburst. By sharing one´s story, the author might try offering more than a personal story, but a personal view into unique circumstances. Yousefzada is inviting us to a journey of identity and - at least - dual belonging, to different worlds, languages and traditions.
Belonging to a Pashtun-Afghan family he grew up in Birmingham in the 1980s-1990s. His migrant experience is unique in terms of the global narrative he is part thereof. He witnesses not only the changing taking place within his own community, but the social changes taking place in Britain as well, particularly the raise of anti-migrant feelings and the widening of the generational and economic gap between different categories.
My favorite part of reading this memoir though is less the informative part (although I appreciated it at its just value) but the storytelling power. Yousefzada writing is so powerful that one can clearly imagine the characters and their adventures, from the outskirts of Birmingham to Kabul river. It makes the reader comfortable within the story nest where one is invited to wander through the memory lanes together with the author, his family and neighbours too.
Indeed, not all immigrant stories are the same, but reading every single one of them makes us aware of the universal human diversity.
Disclaimer: Book offered as part of a blog tour, but the opinions are, as usual, my own
Belonging to a Pashtun-Afghan family he grew up in Birmingham in the 1980s-1990s. His migrant experience is unique in terms of the global narrative he is part thereof. He witnesses not only the changing taking place within his own community, but the social changes taking place in Britain as well, particularly the raise of anti-migrant feelings and the widening of the generational and economic gap between different categories.
My favorite part of reading this memoir though is less the informative part (although I appreciated it at its just value) but the storytelling power. Yousefzada writing is so powerful that one can clearly imagine the characters and their adventures, from the outskirts of Birmingham to Kabul river. It makes the reader comfortable within the story nest where one is invited to wander through the memory lanes together with the author, his family and neighbours too.
Indeed, not all immigrant stories are the same, but reading every single one of them makes us aware of the universal human diversity.
Disclaimer: Book offered as part of a blog tour, but the opinions are, as usual, my own
February 20, 2022
I knew of Osman from his stunning ‘Infinity’ pattern around Selfridges in Birmingham, and had heard about his clothing being worn by A list celebs. Other than an article in The guardian, this is my first read by Osman.
The book recounts the author’s upbringing among the mainly Pakistani immigrant community in 1970s and 80s Birmingham. Growing up in the close knit communities, misunderstood and untrusted by locals.
The way the author’s early life in strictly patriarchal groups among other migrant communities, the misogyny, separation of children by gender, and honour based violence, all shaped his view of the world and influenced his future, and his style of writing made this a pleasurable read, which opened my eyes about the other cultures with whom we share our towns and cities.
Overall, I think this is a well written book, which would appeal to anyone from our multicultural communities. I gave The Go-Between, by Osman Yousefzada, four stars.
The book recounts the author’s upbringing among the mainly Pakistani immigrant community in 1970s and 80s Birmingham. Growing up in the close knit communities, misunderstood and untrusted by locals.
The way the author’s early life in strictly patriarchal groups among other migrant communities, the misogyny, separation of children by gender, and honour based violence, all shaped his view of the world and influenced his future, and his style of writing made this a pleasurable read, which opened my eyes about the other cultures with whom we share our towns and cities.
Overall, I think this is a well written book, which would appeal to anyone from our multicultural communities. I gave The Go-Between, by Osman Yousefzada, four stars.
July 23, 2023
A very interesting and insightful growing up experience for first generation Britt from Afgan/Pakistani heritage, come to England to work when encouraged for better life, salary, opportunities, and as always, improve the lives for the children. As part of a large family, where patriarchy was very strong, he is caught in between the very religious family and community, and the school full of Western culture, the battle between wanting to be a child and the rules set by the Koran. It was so sad to read about how girls are forbidden access to education and always treated with so much hatred, because what else would really make one strike out to their own wife/daughters, and not respect or appreciate any of the work they are made to do.
April 7, 2023
I got this book for a reading group I’m going to attend and it’s not usually the kind of book I would pick up, but I enjoyed it. It was written so vividly and descriptively it was transportive and I found it immersive. It was also very educational and interesting. It raises lots of questions and really paints a picture of two very different worlds entrenched in each other. However, I could have done with more definitions of certain words as some of the Muslim words used went over my head. The ending came as a surprise but was perfect- this book is not fiction but it reads with it and even has a clear happily ever after kind of ending.
February 2, 2022
The book sheds light on all the negative and questionable aspects of the Asian community in the 80s and 90s and fails to portray the beautiful culture, community spirit, heritage and how it developed the British Asian identity we see today with hijab wearing successful role models, bearded graduates, community out reach programs etc
seems like an opportunity to exaggerate and over emphasize certain traits to provide a fantastical backstory of how Osman managed to escape under all odds and give the audience another rags to riches story
seems like an opportunity to exaggerate and over emphasize certain traits to provide a fantastical backstory of how Osman managed to escape under all odds and give the audience another rags to riches story
March 14, 2022
This was an absolutely stunning book. It has been commented in places that it portrays a skewed version of the truth but the story should be heard. Osman’s presentation of his childhood is nuanced. His love for his culture and family shines through quite clearly. But it is tainted with a darkness that he cannot change and so he finds his place in a different world. I really think everyone needs to read this to understand the complexity of love and estrangement that you feel as a child and adult stuck between completely different worlds
August 12, 2023
This book made me feel so… seen. I felt that I’d lived the lives and stories that Osman speaks of and how intertwined the immigrant experience is. It felt like a love letter to that beautiful way of being raised, in a way our parents knew best and tried to protect and nurture us in a world foreign to them. It broke my heart when I read of Osman’s father’s passing, just as I had with my own dearly loved ones.
Osman’s The Go-Between is an homage to those parents who gave everything for their children, when they didn’t even know what they could give. Poetry in novel form.
Osman’s The Go-Between is an homage to those parents who gave everything for their children, when they didn’t even know what they could give. Poetry in novel form.
February 11, 2024
This book was fascinating, but overall suffered from some pacing issues and missing plot points. The first 3/4 focused on this childhood, which was interesting but slow. The last fourth of the book was his middle school to early adult years which were much more interesting but were very rushed. We never learned how he ended up going to school or how he ended up becoming a fashion designer. The parts of his family life including his brother's divorce, sister running away, and marriages were also very glossed over.
July 13, 2024
I had never thought things I had personally experienced as a south Asian Muslim growing up in Britain would ever be something that could be expressed for others to see. Above all, this book represents a voice for thousands of us people who have never had the chance to reflect on our very different upbringings, and all the rights, wrongs and in-betweens we silently witnessed and were caressed into. I highly recommend this book.
July 18, 2023
This is an absolutely wonderful childhood memoir and opportunity to learn about the Pashtun community. There was a heavy focus on all the women in his childhood and teenage years who clearly influenced him throughout his life. Overall, it was super interesting to hear what it was like for Osman growing up between two communities and navigating where and how be fit in.
February 8, 2023
A wonderful read and very well written. I work in Birmingham and this book gave me an insight into a community that I wasn’t aware of with traditions and the fear of shame in the community
I would love a sequel …
I would love a sequel …
August 20, 2023
5* for the insight into the Pashto-Birmingham culture. I enjoyed experiencing the community from the perspective of a child. TMI at times and a couple of other things made me feel quite uncomfortable…I skimmed a chapter near the end as a result.
December 21, 2024
Listened as an audio book, find it kinda hard to write reviews for memoirs or biographies bc I feel like I’m judging the persons life lol. But an interesting insight into growing up as an immigrant in Birmingham in the 80’s
July 16, 2022
Absolutely fascinating look at growing up in Birmingham, the son of Pakistani immigrants.
A must-read for the insights into racial issues, immigrant experiences and more.
A must-read for the insights into racial issues, immigrant experiences and more.
January 8, 2023
Really powerful imagery,relatable at times and insightful at others. The writing did fall flat in some instances, at least towards the end, and was difficult to follow but overall was a good read.
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