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Dancing in the Mosque
A People Book of the Week & a Kirkus Best Nonfiction of the Year
An exquisite and inspiring memoir about one mother’s unimaginable choice in the face of oppression and abuse in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan.
In the days before Homeira Qaderi gave birth to her son, Siawash, the road to the hospital in Kabul would often be barricaded because of the frequent suicide explosions. With the city and the military on edge, it was not uncommon for an armed soldier to point his gun at the pregnant woman’s bulging stomach, terrified that she was hiding a bomb. Frightened and in pain, she was once forced to make her way on foot. Propelled by the love she held for her soon-to-be-born child, Homeira walked through blood and wreckage to reach the hospital doors. But the joy of her beautiful son’s birth was soon overshadowed by other dangers that would threaten her life.
No ordinary Afghan woman, Homeira refused to cower under the strictures of a misogynistic social order. Defying the law, she risked her freedom to teach children reading and writing and fought for women’s rights in her theocratic and patriarchal society.
Devastating in its power, Dancing in the Mosque is a mother’s searing letter to a son she was forced to leave behind. In telling her story—and that of Afghan women—Homeira challenges you to reconsider the meaning of motherhood, sacrifice, and survival. Her story asks you to consider the lengths you would go to protect yourself, your family, and your dignity.
An exquisite and inspiring memoir about one mother’s unimaginable choice in the face of oppression and abuse in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan.
In the days before Homeira Qaderi gave birth to her son, Siawash, the road to the hospital in Kabul would often be barricaded because of the frequent suicide explosions. With the city and the military on edge, it was not uncommon for an armed soldier to point his gun at the pregnant woman’s bulging stomach, terrified that she was hiding a bomb. Frightened and in pain, she was once forced to make her way on foot. Propelled by the love she held for her soon-to-be-born child, Homeira walked through blood and wreckage to reach the hospital doors. But the joy of her beautiful son’s birth was soon overshadowed by other dangers that would threaten her life.
No ordinary Afghan woman, Homeira refused to cower under the strictures of a misogynistic social order. Defying the law, she risked her freedom to teach children reading and writing and fought for women’s rights in her theocratic and patriarchal society.
Devastating in its power, Dancing in the Mosque is a mother’s searing letter to a son she was forced to leave behind. In telling her story—and that of Afghan women—Homeira challenges you to reconsider the meaning of motherhood, sacrifice, and survival. Her story asks you to consider the lengths you would go to protect yourself, your family, and your dignity.
304 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 1, 2020
563 people are currently reading
8633 people want to read
About the author
Homeira Qaderi
2 books70 followersHomeira Qaderi is an Afghan writer, activist and educator. Her name is also written in English as Homeyra. She was born in Kabul, Afghanistan during the Russian occupation to an artist mother and a father who is a high school teacher.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 635 reviews
December 9, 2020
The more I think about this book and I have been thinking about it since I finished reading it, I have to change my rating. It deserves 5 stars.
***********************************************
As a young girl, growing up in Afghanistan, Homeira Qaderi received supportive and wise advice from her father : “By reading more novels, Homeira , you will become more creative. You will know more people and you will experience many different lives.” And from her mother : “They have written about their own lives. You must write about you. “ This inspiring memoir reflects so beautifully that she heeded their advice. The narratives of her life experiences are interspersed with letters to her son who she had to leave behind in Afghanistan when she leaves for the US.
A precocious rebel as a child, inquisitive even in the hellishness of her experiences : “ I can’t remember a time when my homeland was not at war. My childhood began with fighter-jet attacks, bombs falling from the sky, and me trying to count invisible bullets. War and hunger, those are my earliest memories.” After the Russians, the Taliban came and closed all schools for girls and women were not allowed to leave their homes. Her bold mother recommended that she teach young girls in their home and at thirteen years old, she does, and then later holding classes in the mosque for both boys and girls under the guise of teaching them the Koran. They learned, they read and yes, even danced in the mosque. Books were banned and her father who revered books and learning, buried books in a chest in their yard. He dug them up and hid them in the cellar when Homeira read her family the first story she wrote so she could read. This girl who wrote could not publish stories under her own name, but when one appeared, her whole family was in danger.
Today she is a writer, a professor and advises the Afghan government on issue of equality for women.
When she marries, she became the “ property” of her husband. They moved to Iran and in Tehran, her life changes. She becomes educated and blossoms into the woman she hoped to be, but things took a turn when they returned to Afghanistan. “ Divorce, divorce, divorce, “ in a text from her husband. According to their culture, if a husband says it three times it makes their marriage “ null and void.” Heartbreakingly, her son now belonged only to his father.
Her telling of her life growing up and as an adult is inspiring, enlightening, hopeful, yet heartbreaking. Her letters to her son are filled with anguish, grief, regret and most of all love.
“Do not believe them! I haven’t died. I am living a life of exile, in a place that has its own beauty, its own laws, and its own problems. But to my eternal pain, it does not have the most important element of my being, of my soul. It does not have you.”
“How could a mother just walk away and leave her child behind? It was never my wish.”
It’s hard to imagine sometimes a life so very different from our own, making me wonder what decisions I may have made under the same circumstances, how I would have survived under the same conditions and cultural norms. Homeira Qaderi in her powerful memoir affords us the opportunity for some understanding. Well written and highly recommended.
An NPR interview with the author: https://www.npr.org/2020/11/28/939629...
I received a copy of this book from Harper through Edelweiss.
***********************************************
As a young girl, growing up in Afghanistan, Homeira Qaderi received supportive and wise advice from her father : “By reading more novels, Homeira , you will become more creative. You will know more people and you will experience many different lives.” And from her mother : “They have written about their own lives. You must write about you. “ This inspiring memoir reflects so beautifully that she heeded their advice. The narratives of her life experiences are interspersed with letters to her son who she had to leave behind in Afghanistan when she leaves for the US.
A precocious rebel as a child, inquisitive even in the hellishness of her experiences : “ I can’t remember a time when my homeland was not at war. My childhood began with fighter-jet attacks, bombs falling from the sky, and me trying to count invisible bullets. War and hunger, those are my earliest memories.” After the Russians, the Taliban came and closed all schools for girls and women were not allowed to leave their homes. Her bold mother recommended that she teach young girls in their home and at thirteen years old, she does, and then later holding classes in the mosque for both boys and girls under the guise of teaching them the Koran. They learned, they read and yes, even danced in the mosque. Books were banned and her father who revered books and learning, buried books in a chest in their yard. He dug them up and hid them in the cellar when Homeira read her family the first story she wrote so she could read. This girl who wrote could not publish stories under her own name, but when one appeared, her whole family was in danger.
Today she is a writer, a professor and advises the Afghan government on issue of equality for women.
When she marries, she became the “ property” of her husband. They moved to Iran and in Tehran, her life changes. She becomes educated and blossoms into the woman she hoped to be, but things took a turn when they returned to Afghanistan. “ Divorce, divorce, divorce, “ in a text from her husband. According to their culture, if a husband says it three times it makes their marriage “ null and void.” Heartbreakingly, her son now belonged only to his father.
Her telling of her life growing up and as an adult is inspiring, enlightening, hopeful, yet heartbreaking. Her letters to her son are filled with anguish, grief, regret and most of all love.
“Do not believe them! I haven’t died. I am living a life of exile, in a place that has its own beauty, its own laws, and its own problems. But to my eternal pain, it does not have the most important element of my being, of my soul. It does not have you.”
“How could a mother just walk away and leave her child behind? It was never my wish.”
It’s hard to imagine sometimes a life so very different from our own, making me wonder what decisions I may have made under the same circumstances, how I would have survived under the same conditions and cultural norms. Homeira Qaderi in her powerful memoir affords us the opportunity for some understanding. Well written and highly recommended.
An NPR interview with the author: https://www.npr.org/2020/11/28/939629...
I received a copy of this book from Harper through Edelweiss.
April 25, 2021
Imagine living in a country as a woman with no voice. Imagine not being able to dance, sing, walk alone, get an education, read or write.
Imagine having to wear a burka in 100 degree heat under the law.
Now imagine having a son who has been taken away from you as you do not want to be wife #2.
This is a love letter from a mother to her son. A woman Who left Afghanistan to write where it is accepted and to be an activist for the women of her country. A woman who made the greatest of sacrifices that came at such a huge cost.
4.5⭐️
Imagine having to wear a burka in 100 degree heat under the law.
Now imagine having a son who has been taken away from you as you do not want to be wife #2.
This is a love letter from a mother to her son. A woman Who left Afghanistan to write where it is accepted and to be an activist for the women of her country. A woman who made the greatest of sacrifices that came at such a huge cost.
4.5⭐️
January 5, 2021
This book was just the perfect read for those of us who think our lives have been difficult as women. In it, Homeira Quderi vividly relates what life was like for a young girl growing into adulthood under Taliban rule.
Most of us are aware of the indignities done to girls by the Taliban, forbidden to learn, to go outside without the company of a man, to forever be covered from head to toe with the consequences of not following the rules. The consequences were at best a severe beating and at worst beheading.
Homeira is a revolutionary who believes that all children need to be educated so she secretly runs a small school in a mosque. Ever vigilant to the dangers of both what she is doing, not only to herself but to the children, she allows them to dance, another thing forbidden, and learn to write and read.
There are many close calls but miraculously she is never caught and eventually marries after being somewhat betrothed to a Taliban chieftain. Moving to Iran, she finds she is able to go to school. and eventually earns her PhD. However, her marriage falls apart as her husband decides he likes the ways of the Taliban, the couple move back to Afghanistan.
He divorces her and takes her son and the book contains both poignant and emotional letters to a son she has not seen in years.
Sad and mournful, Dancing in the Mosque makes the reader ever so grateful to live in a free country where women can be anything.
Most of us are aware of the indignities done to girls by the Taliban, forbidden to learn, to go outside without the company of a man, to forever be covered from head to toe with the consequences of not following the rules. The consequences were at best a severe beating and at worst beheading.
Homeira is a revolutionary who believes that all children need to be educated so she secretly runs a small school in a mosque. Ever vigilant to the dangers of both what she is doing, not only to herself but to the children, she allows them to dance, another thing forbidden, and learn to write and read.
There are many close calls but miraculously she is never caught and eventually marries after being somewhat betrothed to a Taliban chieftain. Moving to Iran, she finds she is able to go to school. and eventually earns her PhD. However, her marriage falls apart as her husband decides he likes the ways of the Taliban, the couple move back to Afghanistan.
He divorces her and takes her son and the book contains both poignant and emotional letters to a son she has not seen in years.
Sad and mournful, Dancing in the Mosque makes the reader ever so grateful to live in a free country where women can be anything.
May 17, 2021
Dancing in the Mosque is a moving memoir by a courageous Afghani woman, Homeira, Quderi. It is a letter to her son, Siwash, who was just 19 months old when she last saw him. According to Afghan law, after a couple divorces, the father retains custody of the child. Homeira Quderi objected to her husband taking a second wife. So he divorced her and told their son that she was dead. The book is her attempt to reach her son and explain her life to him.
Homeira was always a fighter. She was a child during the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and the Civil War that followed. She spent her adolescence evading and attempting to subvert the Taliban's draconian laws against women. Although women and girls were no longer able to attend school, walk outside without a male escort or read books apart from the Koran, Homeira secretly taught literacy skills to local girls in her family's kitchen and to refugee children at a local Mosque. She also organized a secret writing class for women with a local Professor.
This segment of the memoir is rich with characters and stories of resistance and violence. The reader meets her extended family, her students, teachers, and a young man, forced to join the Taliban, who was her first crush.
The second segment of the memoir chronicles her marriage and adulthood. When Homeira was 17, her parents, afraid that a member of the Taliban would claim her, arranged her marriage to a local businessman. He moved with her to Teheran, where there was relatively more freedom for women, and her husband willingly adhered to these new social norms. They both attended university.
Homeira had her writing published and obtained a Ph.D. in Persian literature. Then, after 15 years, her husband, who had earned his doctorate in business and government policy, realized that he needed to return to Afghanistan if he wanted to advance his career.
Once back in Kabul, he decided that he wanted her to become a traditional Afghani wife.
I liked this book and learned a great deal about the challenges faced by Afghani women. Many of the stories she shared touched me deeply.
NPR author interview: https://www.npr.org/2020/11/28/939629...
Homeira was always a fighter. She was a child during the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and the Civil War that followed. She spent her adolescence evading and attempting to subvert the Taliban's draconian laws against women. Although women and girls were no longer able to attend school, walk outside without a male escort or read books apart from the Koran, Homeira secretly taught literacy skills to local girls in her family's kitchen and to refugee children at a local Mosque. She also organized a secret writing class for women with a local Professor.
This segment of the memoir is rich with characters and stories of resistance and violence. The reader meets her extended family, her students, teachers, and a young man, forced to join the Taliban, who was her first crush.
The second segment of the memoir chronicles her marriage and adulthood. When Homeira was 17, her parents, afraid that a member of the Taliban would claim her, arranged her marriage to a local businessman. He moved with her to Teheran, where there was relatively more freedom for women, and her husband willingly adhered to these new social norms. They both attended university.
Homeira had her writing published and obtained a Ph.D. in Persian literature. Then, after 15 years, her husband, who had earned his doctorate in business and government policy, realized that he needed to return to Afghanistan if he wanted to advance his career.
Once back in Kabul, he decided that he wanted her to become a traditional Afghani wife.
I liked this book and learned a great deal about the challenges faced by Afghani women. Many of the stories she shared touched me deeply.
NPR author interview: https://www.npr.org/2020/11/28/939629...
May 20, 2025
This memoir is written in a spare direct style that is sometimes beautiful. I wish I wasn't dependent on a translator. Much of the content is tragic but there is a lot of love in the author's family.
The book starts with childhood during the Russian Afghan war. It ends after the return of the Taliban. In that context, the author is a girl, then a woman with courage, curiosity, strong will, creativity. I felt with her. I feared for her as she took risks. I questioned my own ability to stand up in comparable ways under such circumstances.
The author studied literature in Iran and India. Somehow life gave her exceptional opportunity along with the ability to make the most of it.
The biography at the end mentions some truly tragic events that didn't make it into the book. I hope the author finds peace and well being.
The book starts with childhood during the Russian Afghan war. It ends after the return of the Taliban. In that context, the author is a girl, then a woman with courage, curiosity, strong will, creativity. I felt with her. I feared for her as she took risks. I questioned my own ability to stand up in comparable ways under such circumstances.
The author studied literature in Iran and India. Somehow life gave her exceptional opportunity along with the ability to make the most of it.
The biography at the end mentions some truly tragic events that didn't make it into the book. I hope the author finds peace and well being.
April 17, 2021
4 ★
Excellent memoir about the early days of the Taliban and a mother's sacrifice in order to live free and become an advocate for others, because in her country "pain and grief adorn a woman" and she yearned for a different life.
Well done narration which gives the reader a break from challenging pronunciation, though there were inserts obviously recorded at a different time and sounded a bit off from the main body of text.
Excellent memoir about the early days of the Taliban and a mother's sacrifice in order to live free and become an advocate for others, because in her country "pain and grief adorn a woman" and she yearned for a different life.
Well done narration which gives the reader a break from challenging pronunciation, though there were inserts obviously recorded at a different time and sounded a bit off from the main body of text.
February 6, 2021
This was just an excellent portrayal of the disgustingly unequal treatment of women in Afghanistan during Taliban rule (and before... and after). Homeira on the surface seems luckier than most, but she also paid a price, giving up her son for her freedom from a husband who decided she wasn't enough for him. Alternating chapters are of reading a letter to her son so he will know who and where she is. Hers is a story worth knowing and I'm glad my Goodreads friends Angela and Diane brought it to my attention with their excellent reviews.
I loved the audio narrator as well. Can I mention an oddity in the recording, however? Several times, at least ten, I'd venture to guess, sentences -- portions of sentences or complete sentences -- were very obviously inserted, having been re-recorded at a different time and place. These sentences sounded like they were phoned in, literally, with a tinny tone to them. The only reason I can think of for this is the studio maybe closed during the pandemic and the edits were done from home. Maybe it could not be helped, but it was a distraction nonetheless.
I loved the audio narrator as well. Can I mention an oddity in the recording, however? Several times, at least ten, I'd venture to guess, sentences -- portions of sentences or complete sentences -- were very obviously inserted, having been re-recorded at a different time and place. These sentences sounded like they were phoned in, literally, with a tinny tone to them. The only reason I can think of for this is the studio maybe closed during the pandemic and the edits were done from home. Maybe it could not be helped, but it was a distraction nonetheless.
November 30, 2020
This is the inspiring story of a very courageous young girl growing into a woman in Afghanistan. The book is to bear witness to the changes happening in her country, and on a more personal level to explain to her son (and to the reader) why she had to escape and leave him behind.
She tells of her childhood, moving from the relative ‘safety’ of war-torn Herat under the Russian occupation, through the Mujahadeen, the Taliban and then ISIS. At the start of the book, the major dangers were exploding bombs and bullets, male relatives being imprisoned and tortured – but many children (including girls) still had access to an education. With the chaos of Mujahadeen, everyone was at risk, and the restrictions on girls and women began to tighten. By the time the Taliban are in charge, females could no longer leave their homes without a husband or male relative in attendance, they must wear a burka in public and all schooling for females is banned. For Homeira – who has always been a rebel and has always railed against the preferential treatment shown to her younger brother – this ruling needs to be thwarted. She loves education – needs education. And so, aged merely thirteen, she sets up a secret part-time school in a make-shift mosque. Initially it is for the local young girls – but soon refugee children (including some young boys) join in. The title refers to an incident where the children are happy and excited, and start to dance – and come so very close to being discovered by strict Taliban soldiers. That would have involved the destruction of the school, and almost certainly executions – or worse.
All too soon, it is time for Homeira to marry. It is not something that the wife-to-be – nor her family – have any say in. Once a Talib man chooses a female for his first (or second, third or fourth) wife – the matter is settled.
Homeira manages to avoid marriage for longer than most of her friends, but eventually a particularly cruel Talib leader claims her. Thankfully, he dies in battle before the ceremony. The next marriage does takes place – and your heart sinks along with the hearts of Homiera and her family. But then the wonderful twist. Her new husband takes her straight to Iran so that he can go to university there. And Homeira gets the opportunity to do the same.
In the West, Iran is perpetually demonised, but to Homeira it was a beacon of hope – somewhere she could become the woman she wanted to be:
She is able to put off motherhood for years to focus on her education and writing career. Unfortunately, her husband (with whom she had fallen in love) eventually decides to return to Afghanistan – taking her with him, and she is pressured into having a child. She tries to continue her career in Afghanistan, but when her husband informs her that he is taking a second wife, it is the final straw:
I found the family dynamics very interesting. Homeira is very influenced by her father and grandfather, who do their best to support and encourage her. Her grandfather is widely read, and hides his many works of Russian literature when the Taliban come. Her mother is a somewhat neutral figure, but her grandmother always just wants Homeira to conform – like a good woman should.
Homeira wants the men to change – but I cannot help but believe, that until the women change – nothing will. Education is a start, but while there continues to be acceptance of the woman’s submissive and second-class role, women will not be free.
I wholeheartedly recommend this book to everyone.
I received this copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
“Losing you was the most severe pain I have ever suffered and I know you must be very, very angry. But I felt I had to make a choice, not just for myself, but also for my country and, ultimately, for you. I don’t want either of us to belong to a society that degrades women the way the Afghan society does. You, my son, are a new generation and it is my deepest hope that by the time you grow up, things will have changed—that you will become an instrument of that change.”
She tells of her childhood, moving from the relative ‘safety’ of war-torn Herat under the Russian occupation, through the Mujahadeen, the Taliban and then ISIS. At the start of the book, the major dangers were exploding bombs and bullets, male relatives being imprisoned and tortured – but many children (including girls) still had access to an education. With the chaos of Mujahadeen, everyone was at risk, and the restrictions on girls and women began to tighten. By the time the Taliban are in charge, females could no longer leave their homes without a husband or male relative in attendance, they must wear a burka in public and all schooling for females is banned. For Homeira – who has always been a rebel and has always railed against the preferential treatment shown to her younger brother – this ruling needs to be thwarted. She loves education – needs education. And so, aged merely thirteen, she sets up a secret part-time school in a make-shift mosque. Initially it is for the local young girls – but soon refugee children (including some young boys) join in. The title refers to an incident where the children are happy and excited, and start to dance – and come so very close to being discovered by strict Taliban soldiers. That would have involved the destruction of the school, and almost certainly executions – or worse.
All too soon, it is time for Homeira to marry. It is not something that the wife-to-be – nor her family – have any say in. Once a Talib man chooses a female for his first (or second, third or fourth) wife – the matter is settled.
“The nekah matrimonial ceremony is the recitation of some verses in Arabic by a maulawi that, in an instant, allows a total stranger to become your master.”
Homeira manages to avoid marriage for longer than most of her friends, but eventually a particularly cruel Talib leader claims her. Thankfully, he dies in battle before the ceremony. The next marriage does takes place – and your heart sinks along with the hearts of Homiera and her family. But then the wonderful twist. Her new husband takes her straight to Iran so that he can go to university there. And Homeira gets the opportunity to do the same.
In the West, Iran is perpetually demonised, but to Homeira it was a beacon of hope – somewhere she could become the woman she wanted to be:
“In Afghanistan, a good woman was defined as a good mother. In Iran, a good woman could be an independent and educated woman.”
She is able to put off motherhood for years to focus on her education and writing career. Unfortunately, her husband (with whom she had fallen in love) eventually decides to return to Afghanistan – taking her with him, and she is pressured into having a child. She tries to continue her career in Afghanistan, but when her husband informs her that he is taking a second wife, it is the final straw:
“It takes years and generations for men to accept strong women. And in the end, he felt more accountable to society than to me.”
I found the family dynamics very interesting. Homeira is very influenced by her father and grandfather, who do their best to support and encourage her. Her grandfather is widely read, and hides his many works of Russian literature when the Taliban come. Her mother is a somewhat neutral figure, but her grandmother always just wants Homeira to conform – like a good woman should.
“Pain and grief adorn a woman,” she said. “You should accept it for your own comfort. No woman’s life can be compared to a man’s. I swear that your eyes and ears will get used to the second wife. Don’t be afraid. It is difficult for all women, but when it happens, they accept it.”
Homeira wants the men to change – but I cannot help but believe, that until the women change – nothing will. Education is a start, but while there continues to be acceptance of the woman’s submissive and second-class role, women will not be free.
I wholeheartedly recommend this book to everyone.
I received this copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
June 15, 2022
4.5 Dancing in the Mosque is a painfully raw, beautifully written, and unflinchingly informative story of an Afghan woman fighting for women’s rights in her home country of Afghanistan. It is absolutely incredible and has quickly become my favorite memoir; I would recommend this book to everyone under the sun and have never felt so much admiration and respect for an author.
If you’ve never read nonfiction before, this is an amazing place to start; it’s fast paced, only 200 pages, and is a memoir so it reads like fiction even when it covers true events! Seriously, read this!!!
Books around the globe: Afghanistan
If you’ve never read nonfiction before, this is an amazing place to start; it’s fast paced, only 200 pages, and is a memoir so it reads like fiction even when it covers true events! Seriously, read this!!!
Books around the globe: Afghanistan
March 22, 2021
This is a memoir of growing up in war torn Afghanistan, in a society becoming increasingly restrictive for women. The author chafes at these restrictions from the youngest age. When her husband divorces her for not welcoming a second wife into the home, the courts award full custody of their young son to him. This book is written to that child to let him know of her tender love and her lifetime of struggle as an Afghani woman.
November 14, 2021
Dancing In The Mosque by Homeira Qaderi is one of those books I just know will stay with me forever. Once in a while I read or listen to a book which makes me want to talk (and talk and talk) about it. This was one of those. Not only that but no sooner than I finished I started listening to it again, I Googled the author desperate to know what she's doing now, and already I've recommended it to several others I know would appreciate it. Written as a letter to her son, this was Homeira's memoir in which she writes of her experiences as an Afghani woman.
What a life!!! Can anyone from a Western society really understand what it was (still is) like to be a woman in Afghanistan or Iran. I've read books over the years that opened my eyes to their plight (and yes I chose that word intentionally). Books such as A Thousand Splendid Suns, A House Without Windows, and I Am Malala are just a few that come to mind. Knowing it was non-fiction made her story all the more powerful, and it was remarkably well written. Homeira writes with passion but also with honesty, and a fairness I was astounded by. Whilst she desperately wants to change conditions in Afghanistan she didn't place blame on the individuals for their behaviour and acknowledged they were victims of the law and the patriarchal conditions of her homeland.
She reflects back on her childhood which was a time of war. The Russians invaded Afghanistan so her childhood was defined by bullets, tanks, explosions, dead bodies and missing families. When war ended, she made the observation that she knew about seasons changing but she had never known peace. She also recalled Civil war, becoming a refugee for some time. She wrote of the treatment of girls and the prejudices they endured. Then in the mid 90's the Taliban took control and things became even worse. Females were prohibited from leaving their homes, schools were closed, burqa's were compulsory and so the list went on.
The punishment for those defying the Taliban was harsh (where harsh meant anything from beatings, flogging or execution). So Homeira knew she was taking a massive risk when at thirteen she began secretly teaching children in the neighborhood to read and write. Children were not allowed to be children, they couldn't read any book unless it was the Qur'an, they couldn't make noise or draw attention to themselves. For example the title of the book came from her recollection of a time when the children she taught spontaneously danced and clapped and the noise drew the attention of the Talabs patrolling the area. Homeira lied her way out of the situation but it was a terrifying time for them all.
Though many of her stories were horrendous to me, under the circumstances she conceded she had been fortunate. Despite entering an arranged marriage which she despised on principle - following the recitation of a few verses a complete stranger became her husband and master (yes, master! Her legal master at that) she admitted to eventually loving her husband. She was grateful for the opportunities he permitted her. When they lived in Iran she had freedoms she'd never dreamt of and he allowed her to study at the highest levels, became a professor and taught at university. When, ultimately she made the decision to stand up to her husband, this man she loved, refusing to accept his decision to take a second wife she expressed gratitude that he did not beat her when that would have been his right.
I bookmarked so many passages in the Audiobook and I'm sure I'd have highlighted half the book had I read it. The 'About The Author' section told me so much more about her accomplishments and I was truly impressed by Dr. Homeira Qaderi. I was inspired by her courage and determination and my Google search tells me her story is far from over so I look forward to reading more of her work. I hope my words will encourage you to also consider reading this title.
What a life!!! Can anyone from a Western society really understand what it was (still is) like to be a woman in Afghanistan or Iran. I've read books over the years that opened my eyes to their plight (and yes I chose that word intentionally). Books such as A Thousand Splendid Suns, A House Without Windows, and I Am Malala are just a few that come to mind. Knowing it was non-fiction made her story all the more powerful, and it was remarkably well written. Homeira writes with passion but also with honesty, and a fairness I was astounded by. Whilst she desperately wants to change conditions in Afghanistan she didn't place blame on the individuals for their behaviour and acknowledged they were victims of the law and the patriarchal conditions of her homeland.
She reflects back on her childhood which was a time of war. The Russians invaded Afghanistan so her childhood was defined by bullets, tanks, explosions, dead bodies and missing families. When war ended, she made the observation that she knew about seasons changing but she had never known peace. She also recalled Civil war, becoming a refugee for some time. She wrote of the treatment of girls and the prejudices they endured. Then in the mid 90's the Taliban took control and things became even worse. Females were prohibited from leaving their homes, schools were closed, burqa's were compulsory and so the list went on.
The punishment for those defying the Taliban was harsh (where harsh meant anything from beatings, flogging or execution). So Homeira knew she was taking a massive risk when at thirteen she began secretly teaching children in the neighborhood to read and write. Children were not allowed to be children, they couldn't read any book unless it was the Qur'an, they couldn't make noise or draw attention to themselves. For example the title of the book came from her recollection of a time when the children she taught spontaneously danced and clapped and the noise drew the attention of the Talabs patrolling the area. Homeira lied her way out of the situation but it was a terrifying time for them all.
Though many of her stories were horrendous to me, under the circumstances she conceded she had been fortunate. Despite entering an arranged marriage which she despised on principle - following the recitation of a few verses a complete stranger became her husband and master (yes, master! Her legal master at that) she admitted to eventually loving her husband. She was grateful for the opportunities he permitted her. When they lived in Iran she had freedoms she'd never dreamt of and he allowed her to study at the highest levels, became a professor and taught at university. When, ultimately she made the decision to stand up to her husband, this man she loved, refusing to accept his decision to take a second wife she expressed gratitude that he did not beat her when that would have been his right.
I bookmarked so many passages in the Audiobook and I'm sure I'd have highlighted half the book had I read it. The 'About The Author' section told me so much more about her accomplishments and I was truly impressed by Dr. Homeira Qaderi. I was inspired by her courage and determination and my Google search tells me her story is far from over so I look forward to reading more of her work. I hope my words will encourage you to also consider reading this title.
March 17, 2021
An unflinchingly honest letter to a son about a mother’s life in Afghanistan and the life she left behind.
Our author here recounts here life story of life in Afghanistan including the invasion of the Russians and the Taliban, alongside her grass roots activism and fight for an education.
I couldn’t get through this book fast enough. Gripping and brutally honest, this has me hooked from start to finish but left me emotionally destitute with the knowledge that this mother is parted from her son.
Our author here recounts here life story of life in Afghanistan including the invasion of the Russians and the Taliban, alongside her grass roots activism and fight for an education.
I couldn’t get through this book fast enough. Gripping and brutally honest, this has me hooked from start to finish but left me emotionally destitute with the knowledge that this mother is parted from her son.
April 23, 2021
Barbara recommended this book to me a while ago. So, I am not surprised that it’s a wonderful book and the fact in this book is fascinating...
It’s a memoir of Homeira, the author. She comes from Afghanistan. She had to cross lengthy, difficult roads to realize her dreams, to raise her voice through these pages. At the end of each chapter, she added a little letter to her dear son, Siawash.
Homeira’s childhood was unfolding through the pages. It was a childhood that had to depend too much on the timeline of history. How sad an era the generation experienced through the successive wars in the land of mountains and birds. Children learned to know bullets before mountains and flying warplanes before birds.
Difficulties were enough. And still, life brought Homeira a more difficult moment. She had to listen to her heart and listen to only one desire from the two- to hear the word “mother” from her son or to live a free life.
Not only “Mother” is the first word for a human child, but also it’s the single most common word associated with our different emotions… In her letter to Siawash, Homeira wrote-
The bits of her life was intriguing. I enjoyed knowing her country, people through her surroundings. The writing was beautiful. But I missed something in the little letters she wrote after each chapter. They were sometimes repetitive (as mothers love to repeat their words always, that’s no wonder though). I felt Homeira could pace a little bit more before revealing some parts of her story. That would be thrilling.
A book worth reading if anyone is interested to discover Afghanistan and know that a dream can be pursued under any condition like a flower can bloom beneath the snow.
It’s a memoir of Homeira, the author. She comes from Afghanistan. She had to cross lengthy, difficult roads to realize her dreams, to raise her voice through these pages. At the end of each chapter, she added a little letter to her dear son, Siawash.
Homeira’s childhood was unfolding through the pages. It was a childhood that had to depend too much on the timeline of history. How sad an era the generation experienced through the successive wars in the land of mountains and birds. Children learned to know bullets before mountains and flying warplanes before birds.
Difficulties were enough. And still, life brought Homeira a more difficult moment. She had to listen to her heart and listen to only one desire from the two- to hear the word “mother” from her son or to live a free life.
Not only “Mother” is the first word for a human child, but also it’s the single most common word associated with our different emotions… In her letter to Siawash, Homeira wrote-
I would place your little ball out of your reach, so you could call me “Mother”. I would pick up my purse pretending to be leaving the house, so you could pleadingly call me “Mother”. At night when your sleepy head would grace my chest, I would gently ruffle your hair, so your sleepy eyes would open and you would object with the word “Mother”.
The bits of her life was intriguing. I enjoyed knowing her country, people through her surroundings. The writing was beautiful. But I missed something in the little letters she wrote after each chapter. They were sometimes repetitive (as mothers love to repeat their words always, that’s no wonder though). I felt Homeira could pace a little bit more before revealing some parts of her story. That would be thrilling.
A book worth reading if anyone is interested to discover Afghanistan and know that a dream can be pursued under any condition like a flower can bloom beneath the snow.
May 17, 2021
4.5 Stars
December 17, 2020
“𝙄𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙗 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙖 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣’𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚—𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙗 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙖𝙧. 𝙄𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙣–𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝘼𝙛𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙞 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙-𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡—𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣.”
Dancing in the Mosque is a heart-wrenching memoir which the author, Homeira Qaderi, dedicated to her son who she was forced to leave behind in Afghanistan. She reflects on her own life and includes a series of letters that she wrote for her son, but knows he will never receive. She portrays her life several decades moving from a war-torn Herat under Russian invasion to, through Mujahideen in civil war, the Taliban and then finally the ISIS.
She recounted her past as she refused to cower under the strictures of a misogynistic social order. She told how Islam was turned into an instrument of retribution, into a stone with which to strike people, especially women, under Taliban rule. As a defiance to her lost freedom she started to teach children and risked her own life to learn to read and write. Until one day she’s forced to marry a Herati man at age of 17, to save her from being taken by a Talibani commander who wanted to marry her.
This is not a light-hearted book. Her letters to her son are filled with anguish, grief, regret and most of all love. It is an intimate, personal, and riveting chronicle of one defiant girl’s coming of age in a war-torn Afghanistan. Well written and highly recommended.
Dancing in the Mosque is a heart-wrenching memoir which the author, Homeira Qaderi, dedicated to her son who she was forced to leave behind in Afghanistan. She reflects on her own life and includes a series of letters that she wrote for her son, but knows he will never receive. She portrays her life several decades moving from a war-torn Herat under Russian invasion to, through Mujahideen in civil war, the Taliban and then finally the ISIS.
She recounted her past as she refused to cower under the strictures of a misogynistic social order. She told how Islam was turned into an instrument of retribution, into a stone with which to strike people, especially women, under Taliban rule. As a defiance to her lost freedom she started to teach children and risked her own life to learn to read and write. Until one day she’s forced to marry a Herati man at age of 17, to save her from being taken by a Talibani commander who wanted to marry her.
This is not a light-hearted book. Her letters to her son are filled with anguish, grief, regret and most of all love. It is an intimate, personal, and riveting chronicle of one defiant girl’s coming of age in a war-torn Afghanistan. Well written and highly recommended.
March 21, 2021
Unfortunately, I'm going to fall into the unpopular opinion. I do want to preface my review by acknowledging that Homeira's life and choices she had to make were sad for sure. As a mother, I can't imagine making the choice to leave my children for the sake of my own independence. But then again, I'm privileged to not ever be in the position to have to make a choice like that.
However, I just thought that the story lacked any deep significance or meaning. For most of the book, the story read as though Homeira was telling us that one day she would write her own story(ies)...but as a reader, I felt that I was waiting and waiting for some type of real story or writing about her life. Perhaps there was a misconnect in the translation of the story.
I'm glad that Homeira had a chance to escape her life and hope that she feels her choices were worth the life she now lives.
However, I just thought that the story lacked any deep significance or meaning. For most of the book, the story read as though Homeira was telling us that one day she would write her own story(ies)...but as a reader, I felt that I was waiting and waiting for some type of real story or writing about her life. Perhaps there was a misconnect in the translation of the story.
I'm glad that Homeira had a chance to escape her life and hope that she feels her choices were worth the life she now lives.
December 9, 2020
Dancing in the Mosque is the powerful memoir of a woman growing up in Afghanistan both during Russian and then Taliban control. Her story is broken up as messages to the son taken from her when her husband divorced her. To a woman of similar age who had the luck of being born in a place where women are given equality, it was a painful reminder of the horrors women are faced with around the world. Yet the story is filled with hope and love as well, from her family and her determination to stand up for herself, those who were lost and those who come after her.
Full disclosure- i received a copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Full disclosure- i received a copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
November 19, 2021
Dancing in the Mosque is the book that I wanted when I read
The Broken Circle
. Both books were set in Afghanistan toward the end of the 20th century, with both authors young girls at the beginning of the Russian invasion and Afghani civil war.
Enjeelah Ahmadi-Miller, however, was a privileged girl from Kabul. Her family had money and connections, so her trip to New Delhi, while an ordeal, was possible. They had friends in high places who made their poverty temporary. The young Ahmadi-Miller focused on fabrics, clothing, and chandeliers, things that seem unnecessary and trivial during an invasion.
Homeira Qaderi was a middle-class girl from Herat, four years younger than Ahmadi-Miller. Her family, too, loved books and poetry, but they were not insulated from the war or the civil unrest. While Ahmadi-Miller was living in India by the time that the Taliban came to power, Qaderi was attempting to school refugee children in Herat, when doing so put her and her family at significant risk. Ahmadi-Miller mostly focused on her family, although occasionally sex slaves and refugees; Qaderi was a feminist writer, who had to make her life at the fringes and who lost her son when she refused to be only a 1st wife (of at least two). Qaderi had friends who immolated themselves rather than be stoned to death.
Ahmadi-Miller's story is an interesting one and she was a courageous child, but The Broken Circle encourages the reader to believe that Ahmadi-Miller's success was her doing, rather than that of the people who helped them, the large amounts of money they carried with them. Qaderi had support from friends and family, some of whom encouraged her – her father dug up his books even though they put the family at risk, her mother supported her dreams – and some who admonished her to keep quiet and follow her husband.
It is dangerous to believe too much in bootstraps and that anyone can do anything all by themselves.
Enjeelah Ahmadi-Miller, however, was a privileged girl from Kabul. Her family had money and connections, so her trip to New Delhi, while an ordeal, was possible. They had friends in high places who made their poverty temporary. The young Ahmadi-Miller focused on fabrics, clothing, and chandeliers, things that seem unnecessary and trivial during an invasion.
Homeira Qaderi was a middle-class girl from Herat, four years younger than Ahmadi-Miller. Her family, too, loved books and poetry, but they were not insulated from the war or the civil unrest. While Ahmadi-Miller was living in India by the time that the Taliban came to power, Qaderi was attempting to school refugee children in Herat, when doing so put her and her family at significant risk. Ahmadi-Miller mostly focused on her family, although occasionally sex slaves and refugees; Qaderi was a feminist writer, who had to make her life at the fringes and who lost her son when she refused to be only a 1st wife (of at least two). Qaderi had friends who immolated themselves rather than be stoned to death.
Ahmadi-Miller's story is an interesting one and she was a courageous child, but The Broken Circle encourages the reader to believe that Ahmadi-Miller's success was her doing, rather than that of the people who helped them, the large amounts of money they carried with them. Qaderi had support from friends and family, some of whom encouraged her – her father dug up his books even though they put the family at risk, her mother supported her dreams – and some who admonished her to keep quiet and follow her husband.
It is dangerous to believe too much in bootstraps and that anyone can do anything all by themselves.
July 29, 2022
Sima si mise a volteggiare accanto a me. “Sima, questa è davvero resistenza?”, le chiesi mentre giravamo. Sima rideva, i suoi occhi scuri brillavano. “Se i talebani ci trovano qui a ballare, cosa pensi che ci faranno, Homeira-jan?”
“Ci uccideranno”
“Allora, questa è la nostra resistenza!”
“Ci uccideranno”
“Allora, questa è la nostra resistenza!”
August 19, 2023
Scoperto per caso, ma molto interessante!
January 8, 2021
My adult life parallels the historical time period of the rise of the Taliban, a mysterious, horrifying, and enigmatic monster living in a faraway land. A monster that has led women my age all over the world to reflect upon our own power and freedom and to warily watch forces everywhere that continue to try to put limitations on those powers and freedoms. This is the first work I have read written from inside the experience of a woman, barely younger than I, growing up under the shadow of that monster. A work in translation, the prose does not translate artfully. Rather, it is the details in the story that create a richly-woven tapestry. A mix of past-tense narrative and letters written directly to the author's son, this book took my breath away. It is a testimony to the struggle and strength of women through time and space, as well as the tremendous import of literature and storytelling.
May 8, 2021
Every now and then, I read a book which leaves a mark on my heart. Dancing in the Mosque is one of those books.
Homeira Qaderi takes us on a heartbreaking, yet brutally honest tour of her life growing up in Herat, Afghanistan. She describes her experiences of the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan in the 1980s, the period of strained peace which ensued following this, and the eventual rise of the Taliban, and the establishment of the Taliban Government. Unlike other stories of Afghanistan, Qaderi takes us on this journey through her own looking glass, a collection of memories and emotions that she retained from her childhood. We follow her as she grows into a headstrong young woman, and the ways in which young Homeira defies the shackles of the Sharia law that the Taliban impose, in her own little ways. Eventually, Homeira is married, and we see glimpses of her life in Tehran, before moving back to Afghanistan, to Kabul.
The beautiful narrative style that Qaderi commands is interspersed with extracts of letters to her young son, which serves as a reminder to us all - Homeira Qaderi didn't write this book for our consumption. This is a labour of love, a love letter to her son. And we are lucky to have been able to read it.
Homeira Qaderi takes us on a heartbreaking, yet brutally honest tour of her life growing up in Herat, Afghanistan. She describes her experiences of the Soviet Invasion of Afghanistan in the 1980s, the period of strained peace which ensued following this, and the eventual rise of the Taliban, and the establishment of the Taliban Government. Unlike other stories of Afghanistan, Qaderi takes us on this journey through her own looking glass, a collection of memories and emotions that she retained from her childhood. We follow her as she grows into a headstrong young woman, and the ways in which young Homeira defies the shackles of the Sharia law that the Taliban impose, in her own little ways. Eventually, Homeira is married, and we see glimpses of her life in Tehran, before moving back to Afghanistan, to Kabul.
The beautiful narrative style that Qaderi commands is interspersed with extracts of letters to her young son, which serves as a reminder to us all - Homeira Qaderi didn't write this book for our consumption. This is a labour of love, a love letter to her son. And we are lucky to have been able to read it.
October 5, 2022
Heartbreak, anger, despair, admiration, fear, and some more anger are some of the feelings this book made me feel.
I can not fathom the courage and willpower that the women of Adganistan have, even to keep on living day after day let alone defy the worst face of patriarchy that ruled and still rules their country. I stand with the women of Afghanistan that see their dreams and hopes and dignity crushed once more, and I really hope that they will manage to live and leave this patriarchal hell behind.
I would love to read more stories by Dr Qaderi and other Afghani women. Happy, beautiful stories, with no fear and no tears.
#smashpatriarchy #standwithafghanistan #standwithiran
*The book itself is beautifully written, informative and emotional in equal measure.
I can not fathom the courage and willpower that the women of Adganistan have, even to keep on living day after day let alone defy the worst face of patriarchy that ruled and still rules their country. I stand with the women of Afghanistan that see their dreams and hopes and dignity crushed once more, and I really hope that they will manage to live and leave this patriarchal hell behind.
I would love to read more stories by Dr Qaderi and other Afghani women. Happy, beautiful stories, with no fear and no tears.
#smashpatriarchy #standwithafghanistan #standwithiran
*The book itself is beautifully written, informative and emotional in equal measure.
October 3, 2020
I really enjoyed this memoir for its raw truth. It wasn't trying to make you feel anything besides the authentic experience of being a woman in that world. There were moments that felt like triumph and ones that left me devastated. And yet, throughout the whole book you had these letters, which at first I thought were journal entries. So Homeira is telling us stories from two different times and periods in her life, but she's also letting you, the reader, know - she's ok.
I will be recommending this book to friends. It' so important that we explore lives that we will never live, shoes that we will never wear, and homes that will never be our own. This is, absolutely rr
I will be recommending this book to friends. It' so important that we explore lives that we will never live, shoes that we will never wear, and homes that will never be our own. This is, absolutely rr
January 30, 2022
I've read many books about Afghanistan - written by Afghans as well as journalists. This book doesn't ring true at all. This is not the first book by an Afghan who has supposedly run a secret school but considering her age, it's not believable. As well, it's doubtful that the Taliban would have allowed her to teach a mixed class in a mosque or anywhere for that matter.
Perhaps it's an interesting book for someone who hasn't read other books about Afghanistan but it really fell short of my expectations. I'm glad that I took it out from the library rather than having bought it.
Perhaps it's an interesting book for someone who hasn't read other books about Afghanistan but it really fell short of my expectations. I'm glad that I took it out from the library rather than having bought it.
January 7, 2021
A child in Afghanistan does not belong to their mother; they are entirely and legally the property of their father. It's not just Afghanistan where that's the case; there are many other countries that take the same approach. And when your husband doesn't want you anymore and divorces you with a technique founded in historic sharia law but delivered in an oh-so-21st-century text message, the child is no longer yours. They belong to their father and you have no rights to access or parentage. This is the background to Homeira Qaderi's memoir, "Dancing in the Mosque". The book is part memoir - an account of growing up under the Russian invasion, the rise of the Taliban, and the rule of ISIS/Daesh - and part a letter to her young son who was taken from her in 2015.
This is a challenging life but not an entirely bleak one. There is love, fun, inspiration, friendship and a great family at the heart of Homeira's story. Under each wave of occupation and oppression, she doesn't let her surroundings grind her down. There are horrifying things - beatings and molestations and abject unfairness - but also inspiring stories of fighting the system in quiet ways, of ignoring the 'no education' rules, and in one case 'dancing in the mosque'. I think it's the blend of oppression and inspiration that gives this book more power than many of the unremittingly miserable stories about Afghanistan.
I particularly enjoyed the chapters about her time in Iran and the wonderful freedoms that she found in Tehran compared to being at home in Afghanistan. I've been to Iran a couple of times and I loved the role the country played in this book as a benchmark of relative freedom and indulgence.
Nobody ever became great by staying home and following the rules and Homeria Qaderi has clearly achieved much greatness in her life, but the loss of her son continues to haunt her.
Highly recommended. A bit confusing in the first few chapters, but well worth the effort.
This is a challenging life but not an entirely bleak one. There is love, fun, inspiration, friendship and a great family at the heart of Homeira's story. Under each wave of occupation and oppression, she doesn't let her surroundings grind her down. There are horrifying things - beatings and molestations and abject unfairness - but also inspiring stories of fighting the system in quiet ways, of ignoring the 'no education' rules, and in one case 'dancing in the mosque'. I think it's the blend of oppression and inspiration that gives this book more power than many of the unremittingly miserable stories about Afghanistan.
I particularly enjoyed the chapters about her time in Iran and the wonderful freedoms that she found in Tehran compared to being at home in Afghanistan. I've been to Iran a couple of times and I loved the role the country played in this book as a benchmark of relative freedom and indulgence.
Nobody ever became great by staying home and following the rules and Homeria Qaderi has clearly achieved much greatness in her life, but the loss of her son continues to haunt her.
Highly recommended. A bit confusing in the first few chapters, but well worth the effort.
July 21, 2025
Homeira Qaderis memoir om att vara kvinna och uppväxt i Afghanistan. Boken beskriver hennes uppväxt i Herat under sovjetisk ockupation till att leva under talibanernas styre. Hur det är olagligt för kvinnor att dansa, utbilda sig, skratta eller lämna huset utan en man. Hur kvinnor i allt mån ska vara osynliga och helt uteslutna från samhället.
Den här boken är så vackert skriven. Boken börjar från att hon är 3-4 år och på ett så oskyldigt sätt skriva om så grymma saker. Sedan hur hon växer upp och där hon är idag. Hon beskriver hennes ständiga och pågående kamp mot normer och kultur av mäns makt och kvinnans osynlighet.
”My grandmother believed that one of the most difficult tasks that the Almighty can assign anyone is being a girl in Afghanistan.”
Så viktig bok i att förstå att kampen inte är över. 80% av självmorden som begås i Afghanistan är av kvinnor. 95% av victims av ”self-immolation” är flickor i åldrarna 14-19. Herat är provinsen där majoriteten av landets självmordsförsök begås. Men också mycket mörkertal och svårt att se statistik i ett land där kvinnor är osynliga.
Bok 1 i min Read Around the World Challenge: Afghanistan
Den här boken är så vackert skriven. Boken börjar från att hon är 3-4 år och på ett så oskyldigt sätt skriva om så grymma saker. Sedan hur hon växer upp och där hon är idag. Hon beskriver hennes ständiga och pågående kamp mot normer och kultur av mäns makt och kvinnans osynlighet.
”My grandmother believed that one of the most difficult tasks that the Almighty can assign anyone is being a girl in Afghanistan.”
Så viktig bok i att förstå att kampen inte är över. 80% av självmorden som begås i Afghanistan är av kvinnor. 95% av victims av ”self-immolation” är flickor i åldrarna 14-19. Herat är provinsen där majoriteten av landets självmordsförsök begås. Men också mycket mörkertal och svårt att se statistik i ett land där kvinnor är osynliga.
Bok 1 i min Read Around the World Challenge: Afghanistan
March 10, 2024
However many beautiful tales my husband tells me, of a land that holds such potential, it’s very different for the women who live there. This book explains why my heart breaks for this amazing country now that Taliban is back in charge. I fear things will only get worse, especially for women. The land I’ve never visited, where my husband is from, where my family-in-law lives, where our children have part of their roots: I wish I could save you 💔
February 1, 2025
I’m going to be thinking about this one for a while.
The audiobook is narrated really well and also reminds me to be more conscious and considerate of my pronunciations
The audiobook is narrated really well and also reminds me to be more conscious and considerate of my pronunciations
June 29, 2025
Somehow it feels like I am reading quite a few books these day that deal with the injustice of it all!
Dancing in the Mosque is a deeply personal, honest memoir that reads like a rebellion against a world that tries—again and again—to silence women. The book is dedicated to all people who believe in equality.
While Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq takes on the injustices cloaked in tradition through fiction, Dancing in the Mosque stands beside it as a non-fictional companion piece—testimony, not tale. It is not about heroic resilience in the face of all odds, but about the very possibility of telling one's story because of fortune, courage, and the insistence on being heard.
Set in Taliban-era Afghanistan, Homeira Qaderi’s world is one where imams prey on kids, women are not allowed to move without the burkha, girls’ schools are shuttered and even public baths—the only spaces where women could safely speak (and dance)—are locked down. Yet, in this stifled silence, women still dare to hope, read, write, and dream. Qaderi’s words are like whispered prayers that rise defiantly against oppression.
Framed as a letter to the son she was forced to leave behind, the book becomes more than memoir. A plea to her child not just to understand her pain, but to grow into a man who can help shift the world into something kinder and more just. Her words carry a quiet urgency: we need generations of well-raised boys and strong-willed girls to level the playing field.
This is not a feel-good narrative of triumph. It’s far more important than that. It is the kind of book that aches with longing and burns with quiet anger—yet still manages to carry hope. A reminder that the ability to dream, to teach, and to tell your truth can itself be revolutionary. Also, the silent warning that men are not to be judged by ideas at a point of time, but the consistency of actions over decades.
Dancing in the Mosque is beautifully written, emotionally grounded, and politically vital. It is a gift and a call to action—for readers, for daughters, for sons, and for a future where no voice is silenced.
PS: Side note, I found the comparative freedom in Iran quite revealing!
Dancing in the Mosque is a deeply personal, honest memoir that reads like a rebellion against a world that tries—again and again—to silence women. The book is dedicated to all people who believe in equality.
While Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq takes on the injustices cloaked in tradition through fiction, Dancing in the Mosque stands beside it as a non-fictional companion piece—testimony, not tale. It is not about heroic resilience in the face of all odds, but about the very possibility of telling one's story because of fortune, courage, and the insistence on being heard.
Set in Taliban-era Afghanistan, Homeira Qaderi’s world is one where imams prey on kids, women are not allowed to move without the burkha, girls’ schools are shuttered and even public baths—the only spaces where women could safely speak (and dance)—are locked down. Yet, in this stifled silence, women still dare to hope, read, write, and dream. Qaderi’s words are like whispered prayers that rise defiantly against oppression.
Framed as a letter to the son she was forced to leave behind, the book becomes more than memoir. A plea to her child not just to understand her pain, but to grow into a man who can help shift the world into something kinder and more just. Her words carry a quiet urgency: we need generations of well-raised boys and strong-willed girls to level the playing field.
This is not a feel-good narrative of triumph. It’s far more important than that. It is the kind of book that aches with longing and burns with quiet anger—yet still manages to carry hope. A reminder that the ability to dream, to teach, and to tell your truth can itself be revolutionary. Also, the silent warning that men are not to be judged by ideas at a point of time, but the consistency of actions over decades.
Dancing in the Mosque is beautifully written, emotionally grounded, and politically vital. It is a gift and a call to action—for readers, for daughters, for sons, and for a future where no voice is silenced.
PS: Side note, I found the comparative freedom in Iran quite revealing!
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