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The Mother Wound
'A magnificent and devastating work of art. There is a raging anger here, and a deep sorrow, but at the core Haydar gives us truths about love. This is one of the most important books I've ever read.' Bri Lee
'I am from a family of strong women.'
Amani Haydar suffered the unimaginable when she lost her mother in a brutal act of domestic violence perpetrated by her father. Five months pregnant at the time, her own perception of how she wanted to mother (and how she had been mothered) was shaped by this devastating murder.
After her mother's death, Amani began reassessing everything she knew of her parents' relationship. They had been unhappy for so long - should she have known that it would end like this? A lawyer by profession, she also saw the holes in the justice system for addressing and combating emotional abuse and coercive control.
Amani also had to reckon with the weight of familial and cultural context. Her parents were brought together in an arranged marriage, her mother thirteen years her father's junior. Her grandmother was brutally killed in the 2006 war in Lebanon, adding complex layers of intergenerational trauma.
Writing with grace and beauty, Amani has drawn from this a story of female resilience and the role of motherhood in the home and in the world. In The Mother Wound, she uses her own strength to help other survivors find their voices.
'I am from a family of strong women.'
Amani Haydar suffered the unimaginable when she lost her mother in a brutal act of domestic violence perpetrated by her father. Five months pregnant at the time, her own perception of how she wanted to mother (and how she had been mothered) was shaped by this devastating murder.
After her mother's death, Amani began reassessing everything she knew of her parents' relationship. They had been unhappy for so long - should she have known that it would end like this? A lawyer by profession, she also saw the holes in the justice system for addressing and combating emotional abuse and coercive control.
Amani also had to reckon with the weight of familial and cultural context. Her parents were brought together in an arranged marriage, her mother thirteen years her father's junior. Her grandmother was brutally killed in the 2006 war in Lebanon, adding complex layers of intergenerational trauma.
Writing with grace and beauty, Amani has drawn from this a story of female resilience and the role of motherhood in the home and in the world. In The Mother Wound, she uses her own strength to help other survivors find their voices.
356 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 29, 2021
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About the author
Amani Haydar
7 books51 followersAmani Haydar is an artist, lawyer, mum and advocate for women's health and safety based in Western Sydney. Amani's writing and illustrations have been published in ABC News Online and SBS Life and her self-portrait Insert Headline Here was a finalist in the 2018 Archibald Prize. Amani uses visual art and writing to explore the personal and political dimensions of abuse, loss, identity and resilience.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 345 reviews
January 4, 2024
A heartbreaking memoir. While Amani Haydar was five months pregnant, her father killed her mother in a horrifying act of domestic violence. Haydar writes with great honesty and clarity about the court case that followed, as well as the support she received and the vitriol aimed at her from those who supported her father. I deeply appreciated how Haydar honors the nuances of the legal system, about how men of color are overrepresented in Australia’s jails and at the same time her father perpetuated murder. She addresses the topic of patriarchy with a similar eye toward complexity, calling out/in men to stop their misogyny against women while highlighting examples of men who are effective allies/advocates, such as her husband. I liked, too, how Haydar writes about her healing process from her trauma, such as going to counseling and becoming an advocate to prevent violence against women.
Furthermore, while this was by no means a focus of the memoir, I am appreciative that Haydar wrote about how her grandmother was brutally killed by an Israeli airstrike against Lebanon in 2006. I also was grateful when she included an anecdote of when she was talking about violence against women at an event, she mentioned her grandmother’s death at the hands of Israel, and a woman told her that it was “triggering” that she mentioned Israel and asked Haydar to not talk about Israel?? What the heck?? Again, her grandmother’s death, while an important part of Haydar’s story, is not the center of this memoir, though I’m glad she spoke out against violence given Israel’s genocide of Palestine occurring right now.
I think there were a few sections of this memoir that I felt could have been condensed or more concisely written, however, I enjoyed reading about Haydar’s process, both her vulnerability and her strength.
Furthermore, while this was by no means a focus of the memoir, I am appreciative that Haydar wrote about how her grandmother was brutally killed by an Israeli airstrike against Lebanon in 2006. I also was grateful when she included an anecdote of when she was talking about violence against women at an event, she mentioned her grandmother’s death at the hands of Israel, and a woman told her that it was “triggering” that she mentioned Israel and asked Haydar to not talk about Israel?? What the heck?? Again, her grandmother’s death, while an important part of Haydar’s story, is not the center of this memoir, though I’m glad she spoke out against violence given Israel’s genocide of Palestine occurring right now.
I think there were a few sections of this memoir that I felt could have been condensed or more concisely written, however, I enjoyed reading about Haydar’s process, both her vulnerability and her strength.
July 4, 2021
Content warning: war, domestic violence, military violence, racism, Islamcphbia, injury death
I read The Mother Wound in two days. It’s a powerful account of Amani’s mother and grandmother, who were both killed violently. Amani’s grandmother was killed in a war crime. Her mother was killed by her father. The tragedy that Amani has lived through is incomprehensible. And her she manages to bring some light into the book, through humorous anecdotes and her joy in mothering two small children.
I was horrified by so much of the things Amani, her mother, her grandmother and her sisters have endured. At times I shouted at the unfairness of the system (Centrelink’s one size fits all process is awful); and cried at the tragic and violent situations detailed.
Amani is an incredible writer - and this book is a beautiful tribute to her mother and grandmother, and also a valuable addition to the domestic violence conversation. The issues Amani explores - shame, violence, stigma, religion, the court process - are so well explained.
It’s available in paperback, ebook and audiobook, narrated by Amani herself.
I was lucky to read half of the manuscript last year, when I mentored her. So very proud and thankful to know Amani.
Please read this book.
I read The Mother Wound in two days. It’s a powerful account of Amani’s mother and grandmother, who were both killed violently. Amani’s grandmother was killed in a war crime. Her mother was killed by her father. The tragedy that Amani has lived through is incomprehensible. And her she manages to bring some light into the book, through humorous anecdotes and her joy in mothering two small children.
I was horrified by so much of the things Amani, her mother, her grandmother and her sisters have endured. At times I shouted at the unfairness of the system (Centrelink’s one size fits all process is awful); and cried at the tragic and violent situations detailed.
Amani is an incredible writer - and this book is a beautiful tribute to her mother and grandmother, and also a valuable addition to the domestic violence conversation. The issues Amani explores - shame, violence, stigma, religion, the court process - are so well explained.
It’s available in paperback, ebook and audiobook, narrated by Amani herself.
I was lucky to read half of the manuscript last year, when I mentored her. So very proud and thankful to know Amani.
Please read this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 15, 2021
‘The last time I saw my mum alive, she was vibrant.’
In March 2015, Amani Haydar’s father killed her mother, Salwa Haydar. He also injured his youngest daughter, Ola, during his frenzied attack. Pregnant with her first child, Amani had to go to the Kogarah Police Station to give a statement. Her father had turned himself into the police.
Why did Haydar Haydar kill his wife of 28 years, the mother of his four children? While the Haydars had recently separated after an unhappy marriage, Amani recalled that while her parents had fought a lot, her father had never bashed her mother.
In this memoir, Ms Haydar writes of her family’s experiences of war in Lebanon, of her parents arranged marriage, of her grandmother’s brutal killing during the 2006 war. Culture and context are important, as is the complexity of intergenerational trauma.
In the six years that have passed since Salwa Haydar was murdered, Ms Haydar has reassessed what she knew of her parents’ relationship, and the different faces and layers of domestic violence. She wonders if she should have realised earlier that her mother was at risk? There may not have been an history of what she recognised as physical domestic violence but there certainly was of emotional abuse and of coercive control.
How can Ms Haydar’s book be both terribly sad and tremendously uplifting? How can anyone move beyond the trauma of losing two parents to looking for ways to make a difference for others as well as for herself? And, importantly, how does Ms Haydar negotiate the ‘othering’ experienced when negative stereotypes (both in relation to domestic violence and to Muslims) are applied? Ms Haydar and her sisters have also had to deal with being ostracised and abused by family members who support her father.
‘Storytelling cracks the crust of shame imposed on victims and shifts the burden to where it rightfully belongs: spitting and smouldering in the palms of the abuser.’
This is a difficult book to read, and I admire Ms Haydar’s courage in confronting so many issues to write it. There is despair here and grief. There is also hope, support, strength, and resilience. Ms Haydar invites us to look at the stereotypes of victims as well, reminding us that it is okay to be angry. Ms Haydar recounts the trauma of her father’s trial, with its victim-blaming and false accusations against her mother.
In 2018, Ms Haydar had an entry in the Archibald Prize. Her painting is a self-portrait in which she holds a photograph of her mother, who holds a photograph of her own mother. I find this moving and uplifting. Three strong women, together.
This is not an easy book to read, but it is important. Highly recommended.
‘We are in a process of breaking cycles, and we are imperfect.’
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and PanMacmillan Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
In March 2015, Amani Haydar’s father killed her mother, Salwa Haydar. He also injured his youngest daughter, Ola, during his frenzied attack. Pregnant with her first child, Amani had to go to the Kogarah Police Station to give a statement. Her father had turned himself into the police.
Why did Haydar Haydar kill his wife of 28 years, the mother of his four children? While the Haydars had recently separated after an unhappy marriage, Amani recalled that while her parents had fought a lot, her father had never bashed her mother.
In this memoir, Ms Haydar writes of her family’s experiences of war in Lebanon, of her parents arranged marriage, of her grandmother’s brutal killing during the 2006 war. Culture and context are important, as is the complexity of intergenerational trauma.
In the six years that have passed since Salwa Haydar was murdered, Ms Haydar has reassessed what she knew of her parents’ relationship, and the different faces and layers of domestic violence. She wonders if she should have realised earlier that her mother was at risk? There may not have been an history of what she recognised as physical domestic violence but there certainly was of emotional abuse and of coercive control.
How can Ms Haydar’s book be both terribly sad and tremendously uplifting? How can anyone move beyond the trauma of losing two parents to looking for ways to make a difference for others as well as for herself? And, importantly, how does Ms Haydar negotiate the ‘othering’ experienced when negative stereotypes (both in relation to domestic violence and to Muslims) are applied? Ms Haydar and her sisters have also had to deal with being ostracised and abused by family members who support her father.
‘Storytelling cracks the crust of shame imposed on victims and shifts the burden to where it rightfully belongs: spitting and smouldering in the palms of the abuser.’
This is a difficult book to read, and I admire Ms Haydar’s courage in confronting so many issues to write it. There is despair here and grief. There is also hope, support, strength, and resilience. Ms Haydar invites us to look at the stereotypes of victims as well, reminding us that it is okay to be angry. Ms Haydar recounts the trauma of her father’s trial, with its victim-blaming and false accusations against her mother.
In 2018, Ms Haydar had an entry in the Archibald Prize. Her painting is a self-portrait in which she holds a photograph of her mother, who holds a photograph of her own mother. I find this moving and uplifting. Three strong women, together.
This is not an easy book to read, but it is important. Highly recommended.
‘We are in a process of breaking cycles, and we are imperfect.’
Note: My thanks to NetGalley and PanMacmillan Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
December 31, 2022
I've wanted to read this book since its release, but have also delayed it frequently because of the topic. I don't remember this case from the news, perhaps it didn't get as much coverage in NZ, or more likely I just didn't take it in, but once I had read the blurb of this book I knew I would have to read it eventually.
Even before I read it I spent a lot of time wondering how you would get your head around your father murdering your mother. I am incredibly grateful that my parents just got divorced. I don't mean that to sound glib, it's a genuine feeling. I'd never fully considered that some people would consider murder a valid way to end a marriage. I am amazed the author managed to keep going as she did - she was five months pregnant at the time, which meant she was trying very hard not to let grief trigger any issues, especially because she had just had a suture in to prevent her having a miscarriage.
Prior to reading this book I hadn't realised that men often cite jealousy as the reason for killing their spouse, and this can be enough of a reason to lower the charge from murder to manslaughter - I don't understand how jealousy, justifed or not, could ever lessen the seriousness of murder. In this case .
Another thing that didn't surprise me, but was disappointing to have confirmed, was how confusing and difficult the legal processes were, as well as her accessing financial support (for herself for maternity leave, her siblings for various other factors). And she was a lawyer, so if she was struggling to make sense of it, it must be even more challenging for those who aren't.
For all that was sad, infuriating, horrifying, I did find this book a wonderful tribute to her mother, and her grandmother. I appreciated the goodness of her husband, juxtaposed against the awful reality of what her father had done. She makes many important points about domestic violence and coercive control, and points out that many men who kill their spouses weren't previously physically violent. I find it odd that police, and people in general, care so much about previous violence, when surely murder is concrete proof that they are violent. It seems like we have an easier time brushing off concerning behaviour if no one is getting hit.
The author has moved from a law career, to being an artist and writer and I think she is very talented. Her portrait included on the inside back cover is beautiful, and I enjoyed the other pieces on display in the interview I have linked below.
I do hope the process of writing this book was cathartic. I have a great deal of sympathy for what she and her family went through, and I hope her advocacy work continues to reach people, and makes people more aware of what constitutes abuse.
An interview with the author:
https://youtu.be/K5_Ywbu8k9M
And:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/202...
Even before I read it I spent a lot of time wondering how you would get your head around your father murdering your mother. I am incredibly grateful that my parents just got divorced. I don't mean that to sound glib, it's a genuine feeling. I'd never fully considered that some people would consider murder a valid way to end a marriage. I am amazed the author managed to keep going as she did - she was five months pregnant at the time, which meant she was trying very hard not to let grief trigger any issues, especially because she had just had a suture in to prevent her having a miscarriage.
Prior to reading this book I hadn't realised that men often cite jealousy as the reason for killing their spouse, and this can be enough of a reason to lower the charge from murder to manslaughter - I don't understand how jealousy, justifed or not, could ever lessen the seriousness of murder. In this case .
Another thing that didn't surprise me, but was disappointing to have confirmed, was how confusing and difficult the legal processes were, as well as her accessing financial support (for herself for maternity leave, her siblings for various other factors). And she was a lawyer, so if she was struggling to make sense of it, it must be even more challenging for those who aren't.
For all that was sad, infuriating, horrifying, I did find this book a wonderful tribute to her mother, and her grandmother. I appreciated the goodness of her husband, juxtaposed against the awful reality of what her father had done. She makes many important points about domestic violence and coercive control, and points out that many men who kill their spouses weren't previously physically violent. I find it odd that police, and people in general, care so much about previous violence, when surely murder is concrete proof that they are violent. It seems like we have an easier time brushing off concerning behaviour if no one is getting hit.
The author has moved from a law career, to being an artist and writer and I think she is very talented. Her portrait included on the inside back cover is beautiful, and I enjoyed the other pieces on display in the interview I have linked below.
I do hope the process of writing this book was cathartic. I have a great deal of sympathy for what she and her family went through, and I hope her advocacy work continues to reach people, and makes people more aware of what constitutes abuse.
An interview with the author:
https://youtu.be/K5_Ywbu8k9M
And:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/202...
June 28, 2021
In THE MOTHER WOUND Haydar tells the story of her family’s trauma from experiences of war in Lebanon. It is shocking to read that ultimately, after years of emotional abuse and coercive control, Haydar’s father murdered her mother. What is so impressive about this brutal memoir is the way Haydar uses her own story of domestic abuse to highlight the systemic issues weighted against all people (mostly women) facing similar situations. She uses her voice and her legal knowledge to transform and transcend her personal story and probe deeper. This is what I want from memoir. As shattering as Haydar’s story is we come to see it in the context of cultural and societal forces. And that gives it so much more force and power to result in actual change.
September 24, 2021
This is the best memoir I have read; that is saying something - as I read quite a few memoirs!
It has been a week since I finished reading The Mother Wound and I am still thinking about it (and recommending it to everyone)!
It is such a moving book about Amani's life, having to suffer unimaginable trauma after her father murders her mother. The book is not just about her grief and intergenerational trauma. It is about the strength and resilience of the women in her family (and so much more).
This book brings awareness to domestic abuse. Her father was emotionally abusive and many people were blind to it because he had not (yet) been physically abusive. Of course, this book made me angry at times. However, one of my main impressions once finishing, is wow, what strong and inspirational women in this family.
Amani could have taken a different path after all her trauma, but she chose to advocate for other women and is passionate and determined to do so. She had to deal with racism, Islamophobia and sexism, to say the least. Despite all this, she continues to be unwavering in making the future better for other domestic abuse victims. This is her way of honouring her mother’s legacy.
There is so much more I could say, but just read it!
It has been a week since I finished reading The Mother Wound and I am still thinking about it (and recommending it to everyone)!
It is such a moving book about Amani's life, having to suffer unimaginable trauma after her father murders her mother. The book is not just about her grief and intergenerational trauma. It is about the strength and resilience of the women in her family (and so much more).
This book brings awareness to domestic abuse. Her father was emotionally abusive and many people were blind to it because he had not (yet) been physically abusive. Of course, this book made me angry at times. However, one of my main impressions once finishing, is wow, what strong and inspirational women in this family.
Amani could have taken a different path after all her trauma, but she chose to advocate for other women and is passionate and determined to do so. She had to deal with racism, Islamophobia and sexism, to say the least. Despite all this, she continues to be unwavering in making the future better for other domestic abuse victims. This is her way of honouring her mother’s legacy.
There is so much more I could say, but just read it!
January 9, 2022
Can I just give this 10 stars?
January 22, 2023
The power of self-advocacy through storytelling when so much is veiled in silence.
Painful and heavy. Pregnancy, motherhood and family. Violence, death and trauma.
Also, how should the law measure genuine remorse by the perpetrator? Should criminal even defence lawyers advise how to express remorse to get a better sentence?
Painful and heavy. Pregnancy, motherhood and family. Violence, death and trauma.
Also, how should the law measure genuine remorse by the perpetrator? Should criminal even defence lawyers advise how to express remorse to get a better sentence?
April 22, 2023
Such a heartbreaking memoir, but a must read to understand what are helpful responses towards victims of domestic abuse and also what are the current gaps in our support systems.
August 29, 2021
The Mother Wound - Amani Haydar
Amani’s parents immigrated to Australia from Lebanon in the late 1980’s in the midst of the Lebanese civil war. In 2015 her father brutally murdered her loving mother, Salwa. During this unfathomable loss, Amani was working as a lawyer and 5 months pregnant with her first child. The grief and trauma that goes with becoming a mother whilst loosing your mother (and your father in another sense) is extremely hard to imagine.
In The Mother Wound, Amani shares very personal details of her family life growing up right through to the present day. She covers such a huge range of important topics such as feminism, grief and dealing with trauma, generational trauma, cultural and religious expectations, sexism, gender roles, racism, Islamophobia, domestic violence, the justice system and so much more. She adds social context by using the balance of her lived experience vs. facts, research and statistics (which are all extremely sobering).
Being a lawyer, Amani had a firm understanding of how the justice system worked and her breakdown of the murder trial was extremely interesting. She also talks about the many inadequacies within the legal system and policies relating to criminal justice and victim support. Legislation and support is seldom fit for purpose when dealing with victims and families who are are affected by Domestic Violence. Amani is a passionate advocate for change in these areas and her story highlights the importance of advocacy.
Parts of this memoir were extremely sad whereas others were inspiring. Amani’s mother, Salwa was an educated woman who’s life work was helping others in various job roles. Her tragic murder is difficult to reflect on and Amani talks about this. The guilt and pain that from wondering about the signs of abuse that may have gone unnoticed and the ‘what if’s’.
This memoir is as informative as it is heartbreaking. Amani is an incredibly intelligent and inspiring woman. The whole way through I was in awe of her resilience and ability to move forward while fighting for change and honouring her mother’s legacy.
I have never had so much trouble writing a review. This book is absolutely incredible and I fear I’m not doing it justice here.
I HIGHLY (and I can’t stress this enough) recommend this book. Hands down the most incredible memoir I have ever read.
This is a book that will stick with you for a very long time.
5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Amani’s parents immigrated to Australia from Lebanon in the late 1980’s in the midst of the Lebanese civil war. In 2015 her father brutally murdered her loving mother, Salwa. During this unfathomable loss, Amani was working as a lawyer and 5 months pregnant with her first child. The grief and trauma that goes with becoming a mother whilst loosing your mother (and your father in another sense) is extremely hard to imagine.
In The Mother Wound, Amani shares very personal details of her family life growing up right through to the present day. She covers such a huge range of important topics such as feminism, grief and dealing with trauma, generational trauma, cultural and religious expectations, sexism, gender roles, racism, Islamophobia, domestic violence, the justice system and so much more. She adds social context by using the balance of her lived experience vs. facts, research and statistics (which are all extremely sobering).
Being a lawyer, Amani had a firm understanding of how the justice system worked and her breakdown of the murder trial was extremely interesting. She also talks about the many inadequacies within the legal system and policies relating to criminal justice and victim support. Legislation and support is seldom fit for purpose when dealing with victims and families who are are affected by Domestic Violence. Amani is a passionate advocate for change in these areas and her story highlights the importance of advocacy.
Parts of this memoir were extremely sad whereas others were inspiring. Amani’s mother, Salwa was an educated woman who’s life work was helping others in various job roles. Her tragic murder is difficult to reflect on and Amani talks about this. The guilt and pain that from wondering about the signs of abuse that may have gone unnoticed and the ‘what if’s’.
This memoir is as informative as it is heartbreaking. Amani is an incredibly intelligent and inspiring woman. The whole way through I was in awe of her resilience and ability to move forward while fighting for change and honouring her mother’s legacy.
I have never had so much trouble writing a review. This book is absolutely incredible and I fear I’m not doing it justice here.
I HIGHLY (and I can’t stress this enough) recommend this book. Hands down the most incredible memoir I have ever read.
This is a book that will stick with you for a very long time.
5/5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
February 2, 2022
TW:
abuse, violence, DV, death, injury, war scenes
This book is a very powerful recount of an unimaginable trauma and the complexities associated with working through this event and the destruction it caused. More than this, it offers a poignantly considered perspective on the Muslim experience in Australia and intersectional identities affected by war, violence, death, migration, religion, race, gender, trauma, access to education and crime. It is an incredible expression of strength and deep sorrow and a sophisticated critique of the institutions and systems which consistently fail women, from marriage to the media and the justice system. Really, entirely devastating and equally as important to read.
abuse, violence, DV, death, injury, war scenes
This book is a very powerful recount of an unimaginable trauma and the complexities associated with working through this event and the destruction it caused. More than this, it offers a poignantly considered perspective on the Muslim experience in Australia and intersectional identities affected by war, violence, death, migration, religion, race, gender, trauma, access to education and crime. It is an incredible expression of strength and deep sorrow and a sophisticated critique of the institutions and systems which consistently fail women, from marriage to the media and the justice system. Really, entirely devastating and equally as important to read.
September 10, 2023
More than 5 stars necessary.
This is one of the most heart wrenching and anger filling books I have read. It’s beautifully written and incredibly sad. A must read for literally everyone.
This is one of the most heart wrenching and anger filling books I have read. It’s beautifully written and incredibly sad. A must read for literally everyone.
July 27, 2024
(4.5 stars)
"Potty-mouthed, topless feminism seemed inaccessible to me and my peers with our complex ties to tradition and culture; it challenged us but also alienated us. At times it even blamed us." The Mother Wound is a poetic and moving account of the terrible impact of domestic and family violence homicide on surviving family members.
"I’d had persistent, violent nightmares. Wet the bed until I was thirteen. Kept secrets to avoid being confronted. Sustained a quiet pre-occupation with the details of my grandmother’s death. Picked at my skin. Worried constantly that something bad would happen. Something bad was always about to happen." As she untangles the story of her father murdering her mother, Amani Hayder applies a seamless combination of lived expertise of violence and knowledge of the law to make an unusually self-reflective account. Hayder adds nuance and depth to concepts like intergenerational trauma and intersectionality. Flipping between a Beirut of "tangled wires, washing hung out on balconies and bullet-holes in concrete" and "backyards in Arncliffe and Bexley – Gadigal Land – playing with Barbies and plastic cricket bats" while watching planes fly overhead, Hayder shows how the unfair deaths of her mother and grandmother are overlaid and connected, trauma upon trauma.
"Grief mingled with physical pain at the crest of each contraction. I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to tell them I wasn’t ready. That I was too sad to push." This is also a book about mothering, starting on the birthing table, but continuing through Hayder's twin losses of mother and grandmother, and ending with the impacts that domestic and family violence has had on her ability to enjoy her own motherhood. Hayder shows us how language and understanding, the state of being motherless, lag behind the actual event: "There is a lag between a life-altering event and all that we already know about the world and how to behave in it."
The thing that really struck me about this book was the way that, until the murder, nobody had raised the issue of domestic and family violence in a way that helped Hayder connect it to the fighting and abuse happening in her family: "I hadn’t yet found the language of abuse, but it was clear that my parents’ incompatibility (as I understood it then)." I had always thought my parents were just incompatible too...
"Potty-mouthed, topless feminism seemed inaccessible to me and my peers with our complex ties to tradition and culture; it challenged us but also alienated us. At times it even blamed us." The Mother Wound is a poetic and moving account of the terrible impact of domestic and family violence homicide on surviving family members.
"I’d had persistent, violent nightmares. Wet the bed until I was thirteen. Kept secrets to avoid being confronted. Sustained a quiet pre-occupation with the details of my grandmother’s death. Picked at my skin. Worried constantly that something bad would happen. Something bad was always about to happen." As she untangles the story of her father murdering her mother, Amani Hayder applies a seamless combination of lived expertise of violence and knowledge of the law to make an unusually self-reflective account. Hayder adds nuance and depth to concepts like intergenerational trauma and intersectionality. Flipping between a Beirut of "tangled wires, washing hung out on balconies and bullet-holes in concrete" and "backyards in Arncliffe and Bexley – Gadigal Land – playing with Barbies and plastic cricket bats" while watching planes fly overhead, Hayder shows how the unfair deaths of her mother and grandmother are overlaid and connected, trauma upon trauma.
"Grief mingled with physical pain at the crest of each contraction. I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to tell them I wasn’t ready. That I was too sad to push." This is also a book about mothering, starting on the birthing table, but continuing through Hayder's twin losses of mother and grandmother, and ending with the impacts that domestic and family violence has had on her ability to enjoy her own motherhood. Hayder shows us how language and understanding, the state of being motherless, lag behind the actual event: "There is a lag between a life-altering event and all that we already know about the world and how to behave in it."
The thing that really struck me about this book was the way that, until the murder, nobody had raised the issue of domestic and family violence in a way that helped Hayder connect it to the fighting and abuse happening in her family: "I hadn’t yet found the language of abuse, but it was clear that my parents’ incompatibility (as I understood it then)." I had always thought my parents were just incompatible too...
November 10, 2022
Brilliant. Nonfiction or memoirs are not genres I read a lot of, but I’m so pleased I picked this one up.
Amani Haydar is a remarkable woman who found the strength to overcome what happened in her life. Domestic violence sadly, is common in society today, but this memoir gives hope to victims. A powerful read and hard to read at times, but one that should be read if you can. Highly recommended.
Amani Haydar is a remarkable woman who found the strength to overcome what happened in her life. Domestic violence sadly, is common in society today, but this memoir gives hope to victims. A powerful read and hard to read at times, but one that should be read if you can. Highly recommended.
January 7, 2024
“It’s not the same thing to die and to have your life taken from you. A death is never as painful as an unfair death.”
This book is such a profound retelling of the emotions of a daughter who had her mother brutally be murdered by her own father. this book delves into the intricacies of abuse especially martial abuse and the trauma that has been casted into the children.
“Everything starts out small and grows bigger over time. Except death. Death starts out huge but it gets smaller.”
This book is such a profound retelling of the emotions of a daughter who had her mother brutally be murdered by her own father. this book delves into the intricacies of abuse especially martial abuse and the trauma that has been casted into the children.
“Everything starts out small and grows bigger over time. Except death. Death starts out huge but it gets smaller.”
September 24, 2022
I am so beyond glad I read this book. I have learnt so much about what Amani went through and world events that I’m astounded I had heard nothing about until reading this book. Despite the very heavy content I’m left with a sense of hope that the issues and problems raised in this book will improve one day. I wholeheartedly recommend this book!
January 12, 2022
Absolutely incredible. This is such a powerful memoir - definitely one of the best I’ve read. I can’t stop thinking about Amani’s story.
Read
January 2, 2022I don't do star ratings anymore because I find them bizarrely anxiety inducing. But if I did do star ratings, I would give this book five stars, and then I'd give it another five stars. Genuinely think it is the most important and well-written book I read in 2021. Amani Haydar is beautifully articulate. The subject matter is of course distressing - but truly, we see this shit every week in the news, another woman dead, victim of a man's violence.
Haydar gives voice to victim-survivors in a way we don't often get the privilege of hearing - or don't hear because we are conditioned, as a society, to victim blame. My commitment to Amani Haydar, in gratitude for the sharing of her story, of her sisters, her mum and her grandmother, is to observe my own thought processes when listening to victim-survivors, to challenge my conditioning so that I can engage and support appropriately. This is something we all can do to help create a safer society that holds and nurtures those who need it, instead of further traumatising people who have suffered in ways most of us don't like to contemplate.
Haydar gives voice to victim-survivors in a way we don't often get the privilege of hearing - or don't hear because we are conditioned, as a society, to victim blame. My commitment to Amani Haydar, in gratitude for the sharing of her story, of her sisters, her mum and her grandmother, is to observe my own thought processes when listening to victim-survivors, to challenge my conditioning so that I can engage and support appropriately. This is something we all can do to help create a safer society that holds and nurtures those who need it, instead of further traumatising people who have suffered in ways most of us don't like to contemplate.
July 13, 2022
When Amani's father murdered her mother, she and her family were shocked. As a lawyer herself, Amani can't help but pick at the details of their relationship and try to find reasons why her father did what he did.
Oh my heart. I don't read much nonfiction and memoirs at that, but this book, wow. This book kept me engrossed because it actually read like fiction. So much of what Amani had to endure did not sound real and I sympathized with her throughout the book. What a courageous individual she is, not only telling her story but now assisting others in similar situations. All the awards this book and herself have received are incredibly well deserved.
Oh my heart. I don't read much nonfiction and memoirs at that, but this book, wow. This book kept me engrossed because it actually read like fiction. So much of what Amani had to endure did not sound real and I sympathized with her throughout the book. What a courageous individual she is, not only telling her story but now assisting others in similar situations. All the awards this book and herself have received are incredibly well deserved.
May 17, 2022
A phenomenal memoir, I devoured this and I can’t stop thinking about it. Amani’s journey broke my heart. This book is essential reading to understand the impact of domestic abuse on victims survivors and their families.
August 27, 2022
One of the most powerful books I have ever read. I’m just in awe of how strong and articulate Haydar is in the face of such awful tragedies. Full review coming soon.
January 2, 2022
A reflective read on a variant of violence that's difficult to comprehend. Haydar adds shape to her sadness in a way that's unwavering.
July 12, 2022
PHENOMENAL!
March 20, 2024
Someone’s mowing their lawn or blowing leaves off their driveway & I can’t think. Read this book. It’s devastating but beautiful and it seamlessly journeys through so many stories with compassion and autonomy.
February 27, 2022
What a beautiful book. Amani’s heartbreak is captured both poetically and matter of factly, reciting alongside it awful statistics about domestic violence, the protection of women, and help available to other victims of this crime. I am also grateful to Amani for challenging some of my perceptions of Muslim women and growing my understanding of the faith.
January 28, 2025
Sucks that i read the best book I'm going to read this year, in January...
July 18, 2021
This is one of those books that’ll stick you for a long time and when you do remember it, it’ll be on a random Wednesday night while you’re eating coco pops. An incredible yet difficult memoir to read so please be sure to check the trigger warnings on this books before you dive in. Amani Haydar does one of the bravest things a woman in today’s world can do: recount generational trauma rawly and unapologetically. As the daughter of a strong and brilliant woman who was also the daughter of another strong and brilliant woman, Amani is now an advocate for women’s issues and in particular domestic abuse. It is no secret Australia is riddled with these injustices and any woman lost to domestic abuse is a woman too many. This memoir details incredibly difficult moments in Amani’s life. At the end of it, I felt validated and heard. While I may not have experienced the trauma that Amani has, any woman who picks this memoir to read will understand just how difficult living under the hold of the patriarchy is. In her epilogue, Amani concludes that she read somewhere “that if trauma can be inherited then so can strength, resilience and joy.” May we all be strong enough to fight another day 🤍
March 13, 2022
I read this book in a day and it is going to stay with me for a very long time.
It feels strange (or somehow exploitative, as in trauma-porn) to say this is a beautiful book, because it revolves around the brutal murder of the author’s mother, by her father.
That trauma, along with other family tragedies and abuses, touches every facet of Amani’s life: how to be a mother (she was five months pregnant with her first child when her mum was killed), her professional life (lawyer) and relationship to the law, racism and xenophobia (she is Muslim and the child of Lebanese immigrants), and all the fractures in her family as the trial progresses.
Amani's writing is raw and devastating and absolutely necessary.
It feels strange (or somehow exploitative, as in trauma-porn) to say this is a beautiful book, because it revolves around the brutal murder of the author’s mother, by her father.
That trauma, along with other family tragedies and abuses, touches every facet of Amani’s life: how to be a mother (she was five months pregnant with her first child when her mum was killed), her professional life (lawyer) and relationship to the law, racism and xenophobia (she is Muslim and the child of Lebanese immigrants), and all the fractures in her family as the trial progresses.
Amani's writing is raw and devastating and absolutely necessary.
January 12, 2022
The title of this novel comes from Dr Sellarch's theory that, "relationships between mothers and daughters is affected by unhealed traumatic experiences passed down matriarchal lines." In telling the story of her family's trauma, artist Amani Haydar links the impact of war and domestic violence and the way dominant male culture denies women the agency to be their true selves. But in moments of terror, there is also beauty and this memoir is a prime example of that. You will be left in tears, you will be left raging, but ultimately it is this rage that leads to change. If Amani Haydar can help at least one person who has read this book, then it is as if she has helped all of humanity. Highly Recommended.
September 5, 2021
Review:
A huge heart of a book with a balance of research, quotation & memoir that tops my 2021 list and should be read by everyone.
Fav Quote:
Some truths are secrets told to us when we are girls so that when we grow up, we know who to trust and what to believe. They exist unspoken and inviolable within us.
From:
Better Read Than Dead in Newtown - a 31st birthday gift from Nusret.
A huge heart of a book with a balance of research, quotation & memoir that tops my 2021 list and should be read by everyone.
Fav Quote:
Some truths are secrets told to us when we are girls so that when we grow up, we know who to trust and what to believe. They exist unspoken and inviolable within us.
From:
Better Read Than Dead in Newtown - a 31st birthday gift from Nusret.
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