I Killed Scheherazade: Confessions of an Angry Arab Woman

by Joumana Haddad

Joumana Haddad is angry about the way Arab women are portrayed in the West. In I Killed Scheherazade she challenges prevalent notions of identity and womanhood in the Middle East and speaks of her own intellectual development and the liberating impact of literature on her life. Fiery and candid, this is a provocative exploration of what it means to be an Arab woman today.


Born in 1970 in Beirut, Joumana Haddad is an award-winning poet, literary translator, magazine publisher and journalist. Joumana is the cultural editor for the an-Nahar newspaper and in 2008 launched the Arab world’s first erotic cultural magazine, Jasad (Body). Joumana was chosen as one of the best Arab authors under 39 in 2009 (Beirut39). She lives in Lebanon with her two sons.

Genres: Nonfiction, Feminism, Middle East, Memoir, Lebanon, Poetry, Contemporary

160 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2010

About the author

Joumana Haddad (جمانة حداد) is a Lebanese poet, translator, journalist and women rights activist.

She’s been selected as one of the world’s 100 most powerful Arab women in March 2014 by CEO magazine Middle East (position 62), for her cultural and social activism.

She is head of the Cultural pages for "An Nahar" newspaper, and an instructor of creative writing at the Lebanese American University in Beirut. She’s also the editor-in-chief of Jasad magazine, a controversial Arabic magazine specialized in the literature and arts of the body.

She has already published several essays and poetry collections, widely acclaimed by critics. Her books have been translated to many languages and published abroad.

Speaking seven languages, Haddad is a polyglot and has written books in different languages, and has also published several works of translation, including an anthology of Lebanese modern poetry in Spanish, published in Spain as well as in many Latin American countries, and an anthology of 150 poets who committed suicide in the 20th century.

She interviewed many international writers, such as Umberto Eco, Paul Auster, Jose Saramago, Peter Handke, Elfriede Jelinek, and others.

Joumana Haddad has been awarded the Arab Press Prize in 2006.

In October 2009, she has been chosen as one of the 39 most interesting Arab writers under 39.

In November 2009, she won the International Prize North South for poetry, of the Pescarabruzzo Foundation in Italy.The winner of the novel prize was Austrian writer Peter Handke.

In February 2010, she won the Blue Metropolis Al Majidi Ibn Dhaher Arab Literary Prize.

In August 2010, she received the Rodolfo Gentili Prize in Porto Recanati, Italy.

In November 2012, she received the Cutuli Prize for journalism in Catania, Italy.

In July 2013, she was appointed honorary ambassador for culture and human rights for the city of Naples in the Mediterranean by the mayor of Naples Luigi de Magistris.

In February 2014, she was awarded the “Career Poetry Prize” by the Archicultura Foundation in Acquiterme, Italy.

Haddad's magazine is the feature of a 2013 film by Amanda Homsi-Ottosson, Jasad & The Queen of Contradictions, a Women Make Movies release.

Reviews

[Amal Bedhyefi · Rating 1 out of 5]

What a huge dissappointment.
My god .
Where do I begin ?
I bought this book thinking that it would be a celebration of femininity , feminism and arab women in general ,but little did i know . This book is nothing but Joumana Haddad turning herself into a victim , attacking other women as she likes to call the ' others ' ( but that's a complete different story) and pointing out to the obvious.
I thought that this is one of these books that will enlighten me in a certain way or that it will change my perspective towards feminism after reading it . but joumana kept turning around the same circle ,victmizing herself , praising her work and CONSTANTLY contradicting herself .
But what really pissed me off is the way she dealt with hijab and how she viewed Veiled Arab Women.
Throughout the whole book , Joumana kept linking Hijab and Veiled Women with vulnerability , oppression , submission and ignorance.
I first thought that It was a mere coincidence and that it's not what she actually thinks , but it continued through the whole book ; Pages 28, 29,30,31,32,99,124,125 and 140 are the perfect example.
My mind still can't process the possibility that a well educated women and a "so called feminist" can think this way . How can she still thinks that if you're veiled than , without any doubt , you're oppressed , ignorant , weak and your only goal in life is to please your husband ? Who told you this ?
Does she really think that by belittling a whole category of arab woman , that she is going to rise above all the hatred and manly prejudices ? Is it by attacking your own sex that you're prooving to the west that you're no different than them and that you're also as free as their women ?
That's utterly disgusting and shameful .
Whether you like it or not , we're in this together , veiled and not veiled . We're seeking the same opportunities , fighting the same ideologies and trying so hard to mainatin our rights .
Even though I agree with you partially on some of the things that you have pointed out , I still can't get over how dumb you made us look.
I could not enjoy this book nor read it as ease for your horrific comments towards veiled arab women left a sour and bitter taste .
And believe me , If i weren't veiled , this would still be my opinion.
Because feminism is defending the rights of all WOMEN , all of them.
ndemt eli khsert alih flousi walah.

[Zanna · Rating 2 out of 5]

Well it was exhilarating, but ideologically questionable, like futurist art or, maybe, de Sade, of whom Haddad is a huge fan...

I agree with her that difference is our collective wealth. I agree with her about lots of other things too. Still, I felt there was a lot of victim-blaming going on, and while I am out for defences of femininity, I found Haddad's a bit problematic since she waxes lyrical about beauty inside and out and confides 'hairy armpits are a no-no'. Never claiming feminism, she insists that 'women deserve better' than a 'blind' or unqualified gender solidarity and utters the phrase 'hysterical man haters' without irony. She asserts that she's doing nothing but telling her own truth here, but she continually admonishes her fellow Arab women. When she says 'I don't have all the answers!' I can't help but feel she protests too much. She argues that the contemporary Orientalist image of the veiled and subjugated Arab woman is 'incomplete', and needs to be completed with the image of the 'atypical' Arab woman, herself, a sexually liberated, highly educated and paid career woman who rejects religion. Would anyone else like to lean in here?

In terms of disrupting stereotypes, this is decidedly 101 level, and while she affirms the choices of home-making women like her mother, she can't avoid leaving behind the real 'typical' Arab women, presumably wallowing in the victim status they have submissively accepted, to her intense irritation. The individualist focus on personal choice and development produces various comments to the effect that 'surviving war is good training'. Of course, this is Haddad's truth and she is not obligated to deal with the war she experienced in any way, but this kind of processing evinces the attritional dehumanisation of late capitalism; something Haddad views critically but... not critically enough in my view! I almost threw the book out of the bus window when she said seeing Carmen Chacon reviewing 'her' troops while pregnant was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Maybe I'm just an old reactionary.

The writing is good though! And sometimes Joumana blazed, and I applauded her. My favourite part was where she confessed her losses, a wise and salutary admission of mis-steps

[Paula Mota · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Quando a religião começar a propor um homólogo feminino para Deus, então começarei a respeitá-la” (Huda Shaarawi). Qual é a responsabilidade da mulher árabe no meio desta discussão? Qual é a responsabilidade dela em relação à religião e à interferência religiosa da sua vida e no entrave à escolha livre? Na minha opinião, a sua responsabilidade é a de recusar-se a ser enganada e alvo de uma lavagem ao cérebro por parte de um grupo de gente que quer mantê-la à margem. É a de perceber que é estranho que todas estas religiões sejam estritamente representadas por deuses e figuras masculinas (papas, xeques, aiatolas, padres, profetas, etc.).

Obra lida no mês em que Israel, após um breve cessar-fogo, retomou os ataques ao Líbano, onde, apesar de tudo, Joumana Haddad ainda vive com os seus dois filhos, tendo dito recentemente numa entrevista: “Estamos presos num ciclo interminável de morte e desespero. É como se nós, libaneses, estivéssemos destinados a ser eternos ‘danos colaterais’.” É com a capital martirizada por conflitos bélicos – guerra civil e guerra com os vizinhos -, desde que praticamente nasceu, que ela tem uma relação de amor/ódio.

A guerra é um assunto de homens, diz-se. Portanto, perder aqueles que amamos deve ser um assunto de mulheres, presumo. Não estariam as mulheres árabes muito mais serenas, muito mais concentradas nos seus combates pessoais, se não tivessem sido obrigadas, em tantos países, a ocupar o lugar da viúva, da órfã, da mãe ou da irmã destroçadas?

“Eu Matei Xerazade” deu-me a conhecer uma mulher combativa e orgulhosa, às vezes demasiado arrogante e histriónica, que assume amiúde uma posição defensiva em relação ao olhar dos ocidentais sobre a mulher velada…

Porque há “véus” de muitos modelos e texturas: há o véu da negação; o véu da cegueira; o véu do compromisso; o véu do rótulo exótico; o véu da mensagem política tendenciosa; o véu da visão distorcida e da extrapolação; o véu da apreensão e do medo; o véu da estreiteza de espírito; e, o mais perigoso de todos, o véu do símbolo falso; fabricado pelos media…

…quando, na realidade, ela não é uma delas, não porque tenha tido a coragem de o tirar, mas porque não precisa de usá-lo, visto que é árabe mas cristã e vive no Líbano, um país que não impõe a lei da Xaria a quem não é muçulmano e que, apesar de todos os seus defeitos, concede liberdade religiosa aos seus habitantes. Daí serem as “confissões de uma mulher árabe em fúria” e não de uma mulher muçulmana, que acredito ser uma história bem mais arriscada de contar.
Não quero com isto tirar o mérito a Joumana, que é de facto uma mulher audaz e sem papas na língua, que fundou uma revista erótica no seu país e que pela sua atitude livre e libertária tem sido fortemente criticada.

Uma mulher que escreva literatura explicitamente erótica no mundo árabe tem, não apenas de enfrentar controvérsias estéreis, olhares paternalistas e condescendentes e assédio moral, mas também de reivindicar a liberdade como uma necessidade vital.

Foi muito jovem que esta activista se tornou uma “rapariga má”, como ela diz, ao descobrir “Justine ou os Infortúnios da Virtude” de Marquês de Sade com apenas 12 anos, no alto das estantes do pai, que era um intelectual, o que a “estragou” para sempre para a literatura. Há uma certa gabarolice na demarcação que faz por isso das raparigas da sua idade, mas sei por experiência própria que, quando se começa a ler “literatura séria” em tão tenra idade, é impossível não se ser altiva naquilo que se traz para as estantes.

Lia para respirar; lia para viver (tanto a minha vida como a dos outros); lia para viajar, lia para escapar de uma realidade brutal; lia para abafar as explosões da guerra do Líbano; lia para ignorar os gritos dos meus pais; (…) lia para ganhar forças; lia para afagar a minha alma; lia para esbofetear a minha alma (…)

Intrigava-me há muito o título desta obra: como se pode tão perentoriamente ser contra Xerazade? Foi só aqui que percebi, para meu grande espanto, que esta personagem ficcional é considerada um símbolo feminista. É mesmo? A protagonista das “1001 Noites”, uma colectânea recolhida por homens no século XVIII, que narra as aventuras de homens e retrata as mulheres como concubinas, escravas ou seres desleais? Não concebo feminismo sem sororidade, nem creio que uma mulher que se salva com falinhas mansas seja um modelo para alguém, por muito ardilosa que pareça, afinal, não é isso que fazemos desde sempre para evitar problemas?

Parece-me óbvio que este método coloca o homem na posição omnipotente de quem concede e a mulher na posição inferior, de quem pede. Isto não ensina a resistência e a rebelião às mulheres (…). Ensina-lhes, antes, a fazer concessões e negociações em torno dos seus DIREITOS básicos. Persuade-as de que agradar ao homem, seja com uma história, uma boa refeição, um par de mamas de silicone, uma boa foda ou seja o que for, é a forma de “vencer” na vida.

[Ahmad Al-Maaini · Rating 1 out of 5]

لديّ اهتمام قديم بالخِطاب النسوي، وبالقضايا النسوية، وبما تكتبه كاتبات مثل (نوال السعداوي) و (فاطمة المرنيسي) على سبيل المثال، أو حتى من رائدات الكتابة النسوية في الغرب مثل (جيرمين غرير). لذلك كان من المتوقع أن يستحوذ كتاب (جمانة حداد) الجديد "هكذا قتلتُ شهرزاد: اعترافات امرأة عربية غاضبة" على اهتمامي. الكتاب صدر أولا باللغة الإنجليزية عام 2010 ثم توالت الترجمات بلغات كثيرة منها العربية قبل عدة أسابيع عن دار الساقي. يتكوّن الكتاب من عشرة مقالات أو فصول قصيرة، في 190 صفحة من القطع المتوسط.

تقول جمانة حداد إن فكرة الكتاب جاءت بعد سؤال استفزازي من صحفية أجنبية يستغرب أن تقوم كاتبة/امرأة عربية بتأسيس مجلة إيروتيكية باللغة العربية. وتتحدث جمانة حداد في الكتاب عن عدة قضايا متعلقة بالمرأة العربية كامرأة وككاتبة، جامعة ما بين شذرات من سيرتها الذاتية وتأملات وتعليقات على الوضع العربي فيما يتعلق بالمرأة.

لا بد أن أعترف بأنّ الكتاب جاء مخيبًا للآمال على نحوٍ كبير؛ فالكتاب يغلب عليه الخطاب "الصرخوي" الهجومي الذي لا ينفذ إلى أعماق القضايا وسياقاتها ومسبباتها وتشعباتها (إلا في إشارات جيدة واعية في المقدّمة)، بل يكتفي بالتعبير عن الغضب والتهكم. الفقرة التالية نموذج لهذا الخطاب الهجومي الفضفاض: "هكذا غالبيتنا نحن العرب، ينطبق علينا المثل اللبناني الشهير: "بدّي ياه وتفو عليه". نهجس بالجنس، لكننا لا نجرؤ على التحدث عنه. ننهى عن المنكر بيد، ونمارس الدعارة الفكرية (وهي الأدهى) باليد الثانية. أمة عربية سكيزوفرينية واحدة، متحدة، في غالبيتها الكاسحة، حول دساتير الجهل والفصام والتخلف والخبث والتكاذب وفنون الاختباء وراء الإصبع الوسطى" (ص127-128). ربما هذا هو هدف الكتاب أصلا، والخطأ كان مني حين توقعتُ أكثر من اعترافات امرأة عربية غاضبة. لا أظنني أظلم الكتاب كثيرًا إن قلتُ بأنه لم يأتِ بجديد لا على مستوى الفكرة ولا الطرح، ربما باستثناء تقديم طرحٍ نسوي جديد يسعى إلى التوازن، وهو طرحٌ ليس جديدًا بشكل كامل على أية حال.

في المقال الأول تؤكد جمانة حدّاد بأن فكرة الغرب عن المرأة العربية بأنها مغيّبة محجّبة مقموعة، الخ هي فكرة قد لا تكون خاطئة تمامًا ولكنها بكل تأكيد ناقصة، فهناك نساء متحررات مثلما هناك نساء غير ذلك، ويجب على القارئ الأجنبي خصوصًا أن يتنازل عن نظرته الاستشراقية حتى يرى الصورة كاملة. وفي السياق نفسه جاءت فقرة جميلة في المقدمة: "في الشرق أجيال وأجيال من النساء تحت نير التغييب والتكميم والإلغاء والظلامية والقمع والجهل القسري. وفي الغرب أجيال وأجيال من النساء تحت نير التسليع والتسطيح والتعهير، وتحويلهن محض أجساد معروضة للبيع" (ص28). بعد ذلك تتحدث المؤلفة عن بداياتها وكيف أنّ القراءة منحتها تحررًا فكريًا كبيرًا من خلال قراءة أعمال ربما لا تناسب سنّها، كأعمال الماركيز دو ساد. وتتحدث في مقال "امرأة عربية تكتب شعرًا إيروتيكيا" عن ضرورة تحرير الكتّاب من الخوف، وضرورة تسمية الأشياء بمسمياتها دون اللجوء إلى التوريات والاستعارات كفرض بدلا من أن تكون خيارًا.

في الحقيقة وجدتُ مقال "امرأة عربية تعيد تعريف أنوثتها" الأفضل في الكتاب كله، وهو في رأيي ما ينقذ هذا الكتاب. هنا نجد جمانة حداد تنتقد بشراسة الخطاب النسوي التقليدي المتطرف الذي يدعو إلى محاربة الرجل وشيطنته، وإلى التشبه به والتخلي عن الأنوثة لاكتساب القوة. تدعو جمانة حداد إلى توازن يحفظ للمرأة أنوثتها كما يؤكد على تشبثها بحقوقها وقوتها. أعجبني كثيرًا تهكمها من مساندة النساء النسويات لكل امرأة تدخل المعترك السياسي، وكأنه لا بد للمرأة الداعية إلى حقوق المرأة أن تساند أي سياسية فقط لأنها امرأة!

أكثر المقالات استفزازا للقارئ العربي المتديّن خاصة هو "امرأة عربية لا تخاف استفزاز الله" حيث تبيّن بوضوح عدم اقتناعها بالدين كمحدد للسلوك وطريقة الحياة، وتقول بأنّ الدين هو نتاج أشخاص عباقرة يسمون أنفسهم أنبياء أو قديسين بهدف التحكم بالجماهير مع وعدٍ بهديّة أخروية. وتشير المؤلفة إلى أنّ الإسلام والمسيحية (واليهودية أيضًا) لا يختلفان في ظلم المرأة وقمعها حتى لو بدا الوضع أوضح في الإسلام. وقد بيّنت هذه الفكرة في المقدمة عندما قالت "متى نعترف بأن لا تناغم ممكنًا بين تعاليم الأديان وكرامة المرأة وحقوقها؟" (ص23). هناك تشبيه وجدتهُ شديد التطرف في العلمانية تقول فيه جمانة حداد إنّ الصلاة يجب أن تكون مثل ممارسة الحب، شأنا خاصًا؛ فكما يُسجن من يمارس الحب في العلن بتهمة الإساءة إلى الأخلاق والذوق العام، كذلك تجب معاملة من يحوّلون معتقداتهم الدينية إلى كرنفال (ص158).

المقال الأخير "بيان الجريمة: هكذا قتلت شهرزاد" يوضّح رأي المؤلفة في أن كثيرا من النقاد يضخّمون شهرزاد ويبينونها على أنها رمز للمقاونة والعنفوان النسائي، في حين أنها تمثل مسايرة الرجل بإعطائه ما يريد من أجل اكتساب الحرية والحقوق. لذلك، فقد قررتْ قتل شهرزاد.

الخلاصة..هو كتاب ربما يجده بعض الغربيين مثيرًا للاهتمام جريئًا صادمًا (كتب ماريو فارغاس يوسا عن الكتاب أنه "شجاع ومنير حول النساء في العالم العربي")، لكن القارئ العربي-المطّلع على الخطاب النسوي خاصة- لن يجد فيه أكثر بكثير مما قد تقوله فتاة مراهقة متمردة في مدوّنة شخصية. كان يُمكن لهذا الكتاب أن يكون أفضل بكثير جدًا وأن يضيف قيمة كبيرة إلى النتاج النسوي العربي لو أن الكاتبة تمهّلت فيه وتعمّقت أكثر (مثلا: في مقالها حول إصدار مجلة جسد، كان بإمكانها الإسهاب في ما تشكله هذه المجلة من إضافة فكرية/ثقافية/فلسفية بدلا من الاكتفاء برجم منتقديها بالرجعية وازدواج المعايير) . لا أريد أن أظلم جمانة حداد كثيرًا، لكنني لا أوصي بأن يكون هذا الكتاب أولوية لأي قارئ/قارئة.

[Come Musica · Rating 3 out of 5]

Compito della scrittura è quella di infrangere i tabù, perché la scrittura, quella vera, se genera consensi e se non turba, in qualche modo, allora è una scrittura da gregge, che non scardina vecchi modi di pensare, ma li asseconda e li alimenta.

Con questo saggio autobiografico, Joumana Haddad (poetessa e scrittrice libanese) prova a scardinare la mentalità maschilista araba e lo fa parlando agli occidentali, per smantellare quello che gli occidentali pensano delle donne arabe: lancia una freccia non appuntita su un telo di gomma teso, che rappresenta la mentalità occidentale, nella speranza che durante il percorso inverso, dovuto alla riflessione per l'urto, colpisca il telo che rappresenta la mentalità araba (spero di aver reso l'immagine che ho in mente).

Nel castello di carta, costruito con i mille tabù imposti dalla cultura araba, Joumana Haddad dice con il suo linguaggio ciò che le è stato ordinato di tacere con il corpo: "«Quello che nascondo con il mio linguaggio, lo dice il mio corpo» ha scritto Roland Barthes in Frammenti di un discorso amoroso. Io invece dicevo col mio linguaggio quello che al mio corpo era stato ordinato di tacere, restando immune alle reazioni ostili a «JASAD»."

E lo fa in modo coraggioso, non convenzionale, non stereotipato, perché crede fermamente nel potere della femminilità, "il potere di Lilith, la donna indipendente, dallo spirito libero, che rifiutò di obbedire ciecamente all'uomo, e che, per sua scelta, abbandonò il paradiso. Lilith, la donna ribelle di cui Eva, creata dalla costola di Adamo, non è che una pallida copia."

La lotta di Joumana Haddad non è una lotta contro gli uomini, ma contro un sistema sessista: perché se ci sono uomini che odiano le donne, è anche vero che ci sono donne che odiano le donne, "si alleano contro di loro e le combattono molto più duramente di qualsiasi uomo."

Quello che cerca di fare Joumana Haddad è di far ritrovare a ogni donna “l'identità che le è stata sottratta e snaturata.”
Perché “Riconquistare questa identità sconosciuta e rapita, questo essere compromesso che è stato distorto da varie forme di paura, condizionamenti e frustrazioni è la battaglia che una donna deve affrontare. E vincere."

"Abbiamo bisogno di vincere (o perdere, evidentemente) le nostre battaglie senza condizioni, alterazioni, “patti” o compromessi con la nostra femminilità. Questa è, a mio parere, la nuova Femminilità Araba. Anzi: la nuova Femminilità Universale, di cui abbiamo bisogno oggi.

Una femminilità che non teme la sua verità, la sua forza, la sua avidità, la sua fragilità, la sua ferocia, la sua dolcezza, le sue perdite, la sua curiosità, la sua onestà, la sua follia, i suoi errori, i suoi talenti, la sua bellezza, il suo linguaggio, il suo potere, i suoi estremi, i suoi esperimenti, le sue contraddizioni, la sua giovinezza e la sua maturità.

In breve, una femminilità che non teme se stessa."

Tra 3 e 4 stelle: in alcuni punti non mi ha convinto con le sue argomentazioni. In altri, è molto poetica, in altri ancora è molto energica.

[Laala Kashef Alghata]

"To be a woman writer in an Arab country means to impose strict self-censorship, a thousand times harsher than any official censorship imposed from the outside" - Joumana Haddad, I Killed Scheherazade.

Joumana Haddad is an award-winning Lebanese poet, translator, journalist and women's rights activist.

I Killed Scheherazade is a collection of essays, each leading off the previous one and touching on topics such as sexuality, exploration, erotic poetry, feelings of alienation, atheism and saying no.

It makes for an utterly fascinating read.

She comes off very abrasive and challenging, which occasionally frustrated me, but it isn't surprising given her subject matter.

She is challenging the status quo and is licking the wounds that as an Arab woman she has been dealt repeatedly throughout her life.

In this regard, she's almost equal parts unlikeable, sympathetic and admirable in her book.

Haddad speaks seven languages, including Arabic, English, French and Spanish, and has written books in many languages.

She has also worked on several translations, including those of her own writing.

She was raised a Catholic but is now an atheist, and finds the main monotheistic religions equally to blame for creating a society where women are left without a voice.

Just as she speaks out as an Arab woman, I reserve the right to do the same: I partly take offence for her vehement attacks against hijabs (scarves).

It is entirely possible to be an educated, forward-thinking woman who freely chooses to wear the hijab.

"So despite this traditional upbringing and the weight of fear, I grew up free on the inside, since my readings emancipated me - and freedom, as I learned later, begins in the mind, before moving on to one's expression and behaviour," she writes.

I may disagree with her on many things, but I definitely know how it feels to read to reach greener pastures.

She is refreshingly well-read, and references many fantastic, underrated authors that often fall between the cracks.

Different representatives of the media across the world, especially in the West, have depicted her as a "lone voice" fighting for women's rights.

I find this assessment insulting for all those women who are struggling and fighting for women's rights in different ways.

Her appearance is often referenced in interviews (speaking of bold make-up, miniskirts, and bright colours) as if this decision makes her a stronger activist.

There are women who are perfectly capable of standing up for women's rights and a woman's right to utilise her body, however, she sees fit without actually choosing to embody every aspect of the change they fight for.

Haddad also frequently has descriptions that are painful in how accurate they are.

"Being an Arab today means you need to be a hypocrite. It means you cannot live and think what you really want to live and think honestly, spontaneously, and candidly. It means you are split in two, forbidden from speaking the blunt truth, because the Arab majority depends upon a web of comforting lies and illusions," she writes.

Arabs certainly find themselves worrying more about what is being said about them than actually walking boldly forward how they choose.

This often means restricting yourself in ways that often have nothing to do with religion, but have become ingrained in our culture.

I like her stark honesty. I like a lot of her ideas.

I Killed Scheherazade is an illuminating book, and certainly worth a read.

[Ribal Haj · Rating 2 out of 5]

When I picked up this book, I had expected an educated analysis of the women conditions in the Arab world. I'd heard of Joumana from ALJASAD, of which I used to be a regular reader. So her name stroke me as revolution starting. I did not, however, expect the self-absorbed ranting around which the book mainly revolves.

I say ranting for several reasons, most importantly because the book only complains about the obvious. Yes, we are a patriarchal society. Yes, women need to rise up. Yes, there should be a revolution. But we knew these. We need new ideas, fresh ones to consider and that would be the foundation of a new era. The author seems to be justifying for the "Westerner" for his racism, and his prejudice. By that she sets herself a victim of society, and that of The Other (the Westerner). But wait, we do not start a revolution by playing victims!

I say self-absorbed for several reasons as well. Far from "representing" the Arab Woman, Joumana seems to want to live and decide how life should be lived. It's her needs that she seems to want to achieve. The biographical part in her life aims mainly at exposing what a special, special girl she is, and that she has always been and known that she was different. Then, how she was opposed and hindered, yet she fought and slew (or wants to slay) the dragon. All the while, stereotyping the Westerner (freethinking, judge), Oriental man (closed-minded, enemy), and most other women (ignorant, victims).
In addition to the redundancy of "I as an intellectual Arab woman". What is an intellectual? Who decides that you are one?

Other aspects about the book that I did not particularly enjoy include her arguments on femininity. She seems to emphasize that a woman should be a "woman" and man should be a "man" without any clear definition of what constitutes each. I found myself wondering, what about people who identify with being neither?

Anyway, the book is a poetic expression of Haddad'd frustrations and thought. That is completely respected. We all have the right to throw our feelings out there, hoping they touch others.
Joumana did touch me and reminded of the Arab woman cause. I thank her for that.
Joumana now has a responsibility. She inadvertently took up the cause or by choice, so she should finish what she started, and we, women and men or neither, are with her.

[Iqbal Al-Zirqi · Rating 1 out of 5]

The book was full of the author herself, and her own life. Did not get anything new regarding the situation of women in Middle east, and all what was said in this book was old news for me!!

[ايمان · Rating 3 out of 5]

جمانة حداد قتلت شهرزاد..أيجب أن أكون مسرورة بهذا الفعل ؟هل تمثل شهرزاد المرأة العربية لا أظن فحسب معرفتي فهي فارسية فهل تمثل المرأة المسلمة لا اظن فلو كانت فشهريار ليس مسلما هل الاسلام يبيح قتل الزوجات؟ لست مسرورة و لا حزينة للأن شهرزاد لا تعنيني في شيء فهي شخصية من شخصيات الأدب لم و لن تؤثر في في شيء و لم يكن لها أن تأخذ هذا الاشعاع الا بالفكر الغربي المكبوت و المتخم بالعهر المتعصب الذي يرانا نحن النساء العربيات في شهرزاد فلما أقتلها أذن و هي لم تمس في هويتي شيء ..و لمن لا يعرف هويتي كامرأة عربية و قبلا مسلمة فهذه مشكلته و لست مشكلتي ,لهذا لن أتعب في الرد أو الاجابة كما فعلت جمانة حداد أما أنا سأترك السائل الغربي يتعب و يبحث ليعرف من أكون أما أنا سأمضي في شؤوني ......

[Katherine · Rating 2 out of 5]

A bit disappointing. I really wanted to like this one but I found myself frustrated with Haddad's presentation of certain viewpoints. Specifically her thoughts on beauty inside and out, and what that means to her. We all have our personal preferences, but maybe the fact that you believe hairy pits are a "no-no" for women would be a thought to keep to yourself when writing a feminist text. Perhaps she doesn't declare it so cut and dry, but I found this train of thought unhelpful.

Haddad's image of a schizophrenic society was most compelling to me. The hypocritical actions and ideals she describes inside and outside of religion build a very complicated backdrop that I would love to see explored more as I continue read texts on this subject. This idea alone is worth reading the book for. I wish she addressed feminism within this landscape of complexities outside of her own perspective, but it's an interesting start nonetheless.

I Killed Scheherazade is illuminating in many respects, but ultimately as a polemic I question how effective it is for it's intended audiences. Though many would consider my rating a reason not to read it, I would like to encourage others to pick this one up. There is much interesting conversation to be had around this book.

[Rana Rafeh · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book is problematic. Not analogous to how problematic a labneh sandwich on the lactose intolerant stomach may be, but Donald Trump not acknowledging climate change problematic. Yes that bad.
It is a manifesto of bullshit, attempting to set a prototype for the Arab woman that resembles none other than the groundbreaking, one of a kind, alpha female Joumana Haddad. She condemns a million and one different types of Arab women, claiming that they are standing in the face of feminism or feministic growth, let alone the demographic of women that she doesn’t acknowledge. So let us begin by her demolition of the different factions of Arab women.
1- the “oppressed veiled Muslim.” : Haddad states that the veil is stopping her from her sexual liberation (the only worthwhile liberation in Haddad’s opinion.) and that it must be fought and slain much like the “omnipotent dragon commonly known as god” must be fought. But does not stand in the face of the pious, religious, well informed woman that wears her veil as a testimony of her faith, not as a cry for help? Yes there is a demographic of women that are oppressed by this symbolic garment but generalization really defeats the purpose of modern day feminism.
2- the liberated, man- loathing Arab woman: Although spoken of less frequently, Haddad often condemns the man- hating Arab woman that finds empowerment in not shaving her pits or grooming herself. Stating that she lost her “femininity” in pursuit of equality. Is femininity not another construct binding women? In stating that women must be feminine, are you not socially restricting them and thus impeding this radical progress you claim to be a proponent of? I find it strange that a self proclaimed feminist is setting down the rubric of what an Arab woman should be.
Let us not forget that in getting lost in her sexual need for man, she estranges the homosexual Arab woman. On that note, what’s the deal with reducing female liberation to sexual liberation? Yes our libido is oppressed, but you know what’s far more oppressed? The intellectual capacity of more suburban women. Yes we should be sexually liberated and engage in pre-marital sex, but is it really the time to think of that when a vast percentage of women in suburban Arab regions aren’t getting an education that surpasses ninth grade?
Moreover, in her prose about oppression, she speaks of nothing but sheer emotional or personal exposure. She does not address the governmental laws that oppress women. Quite frankly, I think it’s because she can’t see beyond the slight mishaps that growing up in a privileged progressive Christian household entail (in context of Lebanese politics at the time- christian is an important detail).
I could go on for days, but I shan’t. This book is Joumana Haddad’s means of seeking applause. (She claims narcissism is healthy btw- really forward thinking in terms of mental health advocacy ik). It screams “look at me I’m not afraid to masturbate.” In the face of women who aren’t allowed to develop an interest beyond domestic duties. It’s so easy to speak from a place of privilege, no one chooses to be oppressed, and it is those that are robbed of choice to whom immediate attention must be given. I am disappointed to say the least

[Simona · Rating 3 out of 5]

She is the Lebanese poet, and in this book she ponders about her childhood and interesting/unconventional life path/choices. Don't expect a deep feminist thoughts, but if you want to read a story about a daring woman in the Arab world, then I recommend it.

[Ayala Levinger · Rating 3 out of 5]

Joumana is an interesting person. I liked finding out what she thinks about things even though we certainly don't share the same views about everything.

[Laura · Rating 2 out of 5]

A long rambling parade of vocabulary that doesn't really say much of anything that makes any sense. Maybe I am just too analytical. I couldn't make it more than a few sentences without rolling my eyes.

It starts by criticizing Westerners for believing in the stereotype of veiled, oppressed Arab women. Then admits that those are the majority of Arab women. Then says that there are modern Arab women, and she is one of them, so let's hear her story. It starts with how she grew up in Beirut, which she hates because it has laws that oppress women. Damn you Westerners and your preconceived notions that I will now verify!* She has no love for this city because her 10 year old kid likes 50 Cent but doesn't appreciate Picasso. Apparently this is Beirut's fault? And somehow relates to Arab women? Right?

The only accidentally interesting thing in that whole passage was that her description of the backward, oppressive things about Beirut also functioned as a near perfect description of many places in the U.S. That was kind of amusing.

It goes on from there, and there are some interesting tidbits, but mostly it's a big long existential rant about how writing is freedom and censorship is rape (no, rape is rape, everything else is notrape) and whatever. It's more about her being some free-thinking, out-there poet than anything else. I most definitely did not get what I wanted from it; namely, a discussion of what it's like to be an Arab woman. I kind of thought it might be in there, you know, from the title? Silly me.

*I'd like to note here that part of the reason I picked up this book is because the author explicitly promised to challenge my Western preconceptions about Arab women being so oppressed. I wanted to be challenged! But then most of the book was about how oppressed she felt. Um, sorry, what exactly is your book supposed to be about now? I am left very confused.

[ريم الصالح · Rating 3 out of 5]

جميل هو فكر جمانة حداد. أنا لا أستطيع إنكار إعجابي. تستطيع عبر مقالاتها هذه أن تستقي رؤيةً أكثر انفتاحاً وأوسع أفقاً. رؤية تعود بالإنسان إلى رحم مهده الأول، أصل الإنسانية الأولى "العذراء" تحديداً بوصف جمانة.
ما أعتقد بأنه أثر سلباً على الفكرة المطروحة هو أمران؛ غضبها الواضح - واللغة المتناولة.
أتفهم هذا الغضب الذي ينكب على الواقع العربي المثير للغثيان، أتفهم صعوبة السيطرة على الأعصاب؛ ولكن هذا أخذ من الفكرة. غضب الكاتبة كان على حساب جدية الرؤية والأفكار، فجعلها في قالب توجيهي نمطي يأخذ من الصراخ والتحذير طابعه الأساسي. الفكرة تخسر تفنيذها ومناقشتها بالدلائل والبراهين إذا ما استُهلكت بصورة عصبية صاخبة ومكررة كما كان هنا، فتلاحظ بأن الكاتبة تكتب لـ "تفش خلئها" وأنا -بصراحة- مقدرة لذلك رغم أنني تمنيت دونه.
أسلوب الكاتبة في الكتابة كان شخصياً بعض الشيء. كنت أشعر بالكتابة تتمحور حول الكاتبة وبماذا تشعر وتحس وطقوسها ونظرتها نحو نفسها، بدل أن يكون النقاش حول الهوة في روح الإنسان التي خلّفت كل هذا الدمار. كنا نحتاج إلى نستمع لصوت النسوة، لنقرأ لهن. كنت أتلهف لاستعراض حقائق وماغيره.

لازلت أشيد بشجاعة جمانة، وإقدامها على نشر هذا الكتاب، وعلى مجلة "جسد". معجبة كذلك بشخصيتها حيث تزامنت قراءتي لها مع مشاهدة لبعض مقابلاتها على اليوتيوب.
وأظنني بالتأكيد سأوصي لأحدهم بكتابها هذا.
أتمنى -مستقبلاً- لو أنها تكتب شيئاً يتعدى "مخطوطتها" هذه كما وصفتها، كتاب يكون ميراثاً إنسانياً...

[Maya · Rating 4 out of 5]

هادئة وعاقلة في الظاهر، ومشاغبة في الرأس والباطن: وديعة وحنونة واستقلالية ومغناج، لكني أتحوّل إلى لبوة شرسة إذا ما تطاول أحدهم على حقّي أو جرحني. حساسة جداً وقوية وصلبة في آن واحد.

[Emy · Rating 3 out of 5]

I like when life surprises me, when certain books just “show up”, out of nowhere, and I like my past-self’s decision to read them.
This book, talks about women, feminisim , writing and religion in the “Arabic world”. I may not “share/accept” the author's thoughts -and I couldn’t show the same level of enthusiasm towards them- but I respect them, respect her courage to “speak out loud”.
So, I’ll just share some of the quotes I liked, and considered an "echo" to my internal voice and thoughts.
"Pour une femme, être une femme signifie être, et vouloir être elle-même, et rien d’autre.....Cela signifie développer cette identité personnelle, de toute la force de ses entrailles, de son inconscient, de son corps et de son esprit. Sans peur, sans panique, ni lassitude, ni tabou, ni honte, ni aucun autre obstacle interne ou social, visible ou non. Cela signifie la développer sans se soucier d’obtenir l’approbation des hommes pour ses succès ni d’essuyer leurs critiques pour ses échecs. Cela signifie prendre, au lieu d’attendre qu’on lui donne."

"Dans mon humble vision du monde, les deux identités, masculine et féminine, vont ensemble, main dans la main, complices, égales, se soutenant, se motivant et se défiant l’une l’autre, tout en restant incroyablement DIFFÉRENTES. Si la femme doit parvenir à égaler quelque chose ou quelqu’un, alors c’est elle-même, son entité et son identité propres, et elles seules. Alors elle sera à la hauteur de son être féminin essentiel, un être en perpétuelle transformation, rénovation et recréation"

"Je ne considère pas l’exemple de la femme ayant fait carrière comme le seul modèle de femme s’étant émancipée avec succès et efficacité. C’est de choix qu’il s’agit, choix qui fait toute la différence entre une femme libre et une femme soumise. Je suis pour qu’une femme cuisine si c’est son souhait et sa décision. Contre, si c’est ce qu’on attend d’elle et qu’on le lui impose pour la simple raison qu’elle est une femme."

"Qui a décrété que l’homme était le pire ennemi de la femme ? J’ai rencontré des femmes qui haïssent leurs semblables, s’unissent contre elles pour les combattre avec plus de violence qu’aucun homme ne le ferait : des mères gardant le silence face au viol perpétré par les pères ; s’empressant de trouver un mari pour leur fillette de treize ans ; négligeant son éducation sous prétexte qu’elle est “destinée au mariage de toute façon, alors à quoi bon ?” ; inculquant à leurs fils une mentalité encore plus discriminatoire et méprisante envers les femmes que celle de leur père."

"Je me permettrai donc ici, loin des détractrices hystériques des hommes, comme de la troupe de femmes soumises, volontairement ou par apathie, de rappeler un certain nombre de droits fondamentaux souvent bafoués.
Le droit de la femme à une féminité forte, intelligente et indépendante, contre les slogans agressifs.
Le droit de la femme à avoir des relations non belliqueuses avec des hommes, sans passer pour soumise.
Le droit de la femme à être l’égale de l’homme sans être tentée par un discours de domination sur lui ni de similitude avec lui.
Le droit de la femme à continuer d’apprécier un bouquet de roses même si elle conduit un tracteur ou vidange un moteur."

“Si nous voulons exister, il faut nous montrer fermes dans nos choix et nos désirs. Les mi-chemins conduisent droit à l’autodestruction” (Djamilah Bouhired)

" chaque personne et chaque chemin est unique. Cherchons le noyau : le tout est compris dans le cœur, qui n’est pas statique. Sa splendeur est de rester toujours insaisissable, car toujours en transformation."

"Vivre, c’est accepter qui on est. Mais c’est aussi accepter le changement. C’est pourquoi j’ai toujours essayé de formuler mes points de vue tout en m’autorisant le doute, et une marge de variation. C’est un droit humain que de changer. Ce qui n’est pas synonyme d’un manque de cohérence, comme certains esprits rigides le croient. Au contraire. Il s’agit de laisser l’univers nous parcourir et ses vagues onduler dans l’esprit et l’âme. Je refuse d’être exactement la même dans dix ans, ni dans cinq, ni dans un an d’ailleurs. Les gens rigides, inflexibles, ne se lassent-ils pas d’eux-mêmes ? N’en ont-ils pas assez de répéter les mêmes mots, les mêmes idées et les mêmes concepts ? Je ne dis pas qu’il faille être instable et lunatique. Évidemment, je ne me fais pas l’apologue de la frivolité et du manque de fiabilité. Je veux simplement dire qu’il faut se détendre et ne pas trop se prendre au sérieux. Rester ouvert aux possibles. Se laisser emporter par de nouveaux enthousiasmes. Devenir “blasé” est le pire qui puisse arriver à un être humain. “Déjà vu, déjà fait.” Quelle tristesse… l’anti-vie par excellence."

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not as angry as I expected, this quasi-memoir reflects on what it means to be an Arab woman in this day and age. The entire book centers on Ms. Haddad’s life and experiences, and while she’s a pretty fascinating person, there were places in the book where I felt that her life and, by extension, her opinions and beliefs, drastically differ from those of most “average” Arab women. That’s not a knock on the book, as it is thought-provoking and worth a read. It’s merely to point out that this book is not comprehensive and is more of an addition to a continuing dialogue rather than the final word. The entire book clocks in at about 150 pages, which is the perfect length for what is, at the end of the day, one woman’s opinions. Recommended.

[Sus · Rating 2 out of 5]

I have to admit I was a bit disappointed by this book.. Both the content as well as the flow did not succeed in capturing me. Joumana has a lot of good and interesting ideas that I relate to very well, however the flow was a bit haphazard with no clear transition from one topic to the other. Also, she should have been less self centered and focused a bit more on the issues that the majority of Arab women are struggling with today. Overall, a light and easy read.

[Neii · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es un libro donde la escritora divaga sobre el feminismo, el mundo árabe (sobre todo la mujer árabe con sus consecuencias y causas ) y comparaciones con el cristianismo, el mundo de Occidente... Bastante interesante, se podría decir que es un artículo de opinión extenso. Tiene frases muy buenas y sobre todo cabe recalcar que cada uno de los capítulos te da que pensar.

[Nour · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love boldness!!

Since the beginning of the book and I have wanted to rate it 4 stars. Although some parts pushed me to rate it as 3.5 stars, the end was really good so I gave it a worthy 4 stars!

[Nour Al-Hassanieh · Rating 5 out of 5]

كتاب رائع يحرّض المرأة على الحريّة

[Isham Cook · Rating 5 out of 5]

Joumana Haddad is a writer, poet and intellectual who celebrates the liberation of the body in her native Arabic and as well in remarkably fluent English, French, German, Italian, Armenian and Spanish. In terms of her linguistic capacity's reach, sexual freedom has never had a more effective and articulate spokeswoman (or should we say spokesman?) than this amazing polyglot. "I Killed Scheherazade: Confessions of an Angry Arab Woman" is a quick-read in the tradition of political pamphlets such as the "Communist Manifesto." If this work doesn't hold its own on the polemical bookshelf, I'm sure Haddad has yet more incisive works up their sleeve. The timing couldn't be better, with the unfolding Arab Spring. Her writing is also of universal relevance. I live in China, and I plan to lend this book out to my English-speaking female friends (a Chinese translation is certainly called for), who need merely substitute the word "China" for "Arab" to see how much it speaks to them, in a country where the virginity cult is alive and well amidst futuristic skyscrapers, luxury consumerism, and even strikingly revealing clothing on the streets in the summertime.

Reacting to this as a white male growing up in the US and Canada in the 1970s and tail-end of the 60s (I can already hear women clamoring in condemnation of my having the nerve to arrogate the right to speak about or on behalf of women, let alone Arab women, though this only underscores the freedom of speech Western women have secured), I have to say, I don't know, I have just never been able to fathom this virginity thing. It simply never occurred to much less bothered me or anyone else around me when we became sexually active in our teens and thereafter whether girls were virgins or not. I assumed no men considered it important anymore until years later I chanced upon those incomprehensible news stories about Middle-Eastern women being punished or killed for real or imagined sexual transgressions, including pre or extra-marital sex. So I have a different angle on this. No, I am not threatened by sexual women, more power to you, the world needs a lot more of you. On the other hand, as Haddad points out, Western Judeo-Christian culture is not as sexually free as we assume. As an atheist I have no Christian guilt or hang-ups, but in no society anywhere is sexual discourse and action very free. Sexual abuse and harassment remain a big problem in all societies. We can't talk frankly about sex except in terms of its dangers and the proper (moralistic) channeling of it. Americans are notoriously uptight about their bodies; American women can't breastfeed in public without being arrested or accused of lewd activity. And so on. Perhaps everyone should give Haddad's paean to the sexualized body a read.

I do have a sticking point. Haddad cites the Marquis de Sade as one of her prime inspirations and literary influences, as he was mine. You have to actually sit down and read Sade to understand this. His novel "Justine" (Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom, and Other Writings) blew up in my face like a bomb as a freshman in college, and I had to set aside all my homework to finish it. Sade is not simply about sadomasochism; he is about the working out of mental freedom. He pushed obscenity to the point where it took on philosophical depth and profundity, to the point he inhabited this realm exclusively and mined it for its knowledge. The obscene becomes perfectly logical in any bourgeois or patriarchal society disturbed by it, which relegates it to the private and the unspeakable. The whole Sadeian point is that privacy and domesticity themselves are obscene. Sadeian freedom is also a metaphor for the freedom of language. I wish I could hone my own language to a sharp enough point that with a single sentence I could slay the virginity dragon, convince so many young Chinese females to cast off the brainwashing and fear that presses them into the virginity cult, which is nothing other than the modern version of the brutal foot-binding their foremothers experienced.

Haddad's assured style slackens in the rather generic incantatory formulations that conclude the book, when what I'd like to see more of is a celebration of the obscene, starting with her own sexuality. It's nice to know, as she tells us, that she masturbates, prefers red bras (but wait - you didn't get that idea from Chinese women did you, who are traditionally indoctrinated into believing they must wear red bras and underwear when their Chinese horoscope year comes up?) and shaves her armpits (damn! nothing is more erotic than a woman's hairy underarms), but that's about it. There is scant concrete information about the men (and women?) in her life, her sexual experiences. To paraphrase Nabakov, I want the divine SEXUAL detail. What is her actual erotic life like in the particular and close-up? Could she really be worried about her privacy after reading Sade? Here she might take a page from the scandalous Chinese blogger Mu Zimei, who has written up her scores (or is it hundreds?) of sexual experiences with men in loving detail and posted them online (and has been translated into French ("Journal sexuel d'une jeune Chinoise sur le net") and German (Mein intimes Tagebuch). I haven't yet had the pleasure of reading her and hope it's an invigorating and not a tawdry read, but along with Joumana she's another woman I'd like to get to know.

[Mekita · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book didn’t live up to its interesting title. I was intrigued when I first saw it. Scheherazade’s name is universally recognisable as a cunning storyteller who prolonged her life by telling long complicated stories to men. For another Arab woman to use her name and claim her murder in the title immediately invites attention. The back cover is also inviting: “it takes genius to attain such radical freedom”; “a very courageous and illuminating book”, “Joumana Haddad is a poet who inhabits the storm”.

The first few pages of chapter 1 set the tone of the book. She labels herself with heroic characteristics in just a few pages: ‘bad girl’; ‘insatiable, insubordinate and aware’, ‘fiery’, ‘unstoppingly curious’, ‘passionate’, ‘precocious’, ‘non-conformist’, ‘rebellious’. She writes later in the book that “most Lebanese unfortunately have a certain talent for self-indulgence”. She writes this without humour or irony.

Mild irritation set in when she wrote of the influence of the Marquis de Sade whom she read when she was 12. She confides this proudly, “I become corrupt”, as if she’s unaware that many children read adult books and she’s not the first 12-year-old to have ever read the Marquis de Sade. I just read these pages feeling puzzled. Yes, so? Then pours scorn on her 12-year-old friends who were only reading Barbara Cartland while “there I was, immersed in the impossible world of tireless orgies, priests sodomising virgins, young girls seducing 50-year-old men…” oh pleeease. They’re words on a page, Joumana. You weren’t actually doing it yourself, were you? You were reading a book in the safety of your father’s library. When I was a younger child than her I read about the mechanics of how Nazis and Russians tortured, humiliated, pack-raped and killed Jews in concentration camps. Did this make me corrupt? No, it was just part of learning about the adult world and what humans are capable of. I didn’t actually have to witness that and neither did she have to witness “priests sodomising virgins”. But I guess as an Arab girl with a “traditional upbringing”, she felt herself to be very daring just to read it.

I wanted to be interested in this book and Haddad does write interesting passages in certain parts of it: the mutual stereotypes between Arabs and westerners; her defence against media censorship; the use of metaphor in Arabic language and its richness in allegories and symbols; her conflicting emotions towards her home town of Beirut. She writes scathingly of the cleric Ayatollah Khomeini justifying infant rape and should be commended for her honesty in shining this light on such an ugly part of an otherwise complex and sophisticated culture. I found the most interesting chapter was ‘An Arab Woman Unafraid of Provoking Allah’. The following vague, inoffensive chapter didn’t quite live up to its strident title but her critique of Christianity’s feminist failings as well as Islam’s is observant and deserves to be illuminated. Yet the most daring she gets in this chapter is challenging her reader about their view of Paradise: “A place where a man and a woman were punished for picking an apple and having sex? Really? Give me a break!” A basic and commonsensical enough sentiment that 13-year-olds the world over express. Joumana Haddad is no Ayaan Hirsi Ali.

Throughout the book, I felt his was as writer who desperately wanted to be thought of as defiant, revolutionary, an intellectual feminist force…but she’s like a child wanting attention. Look how defiant I am! Look how rebellious I am! Look how different to other Arab women I am! The tone of the book is I, I, I, me, me, me, I, I, I…right through to her long poem at the end where nearly every sentence starts with the letter ‘I’. Self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-obsessed and narcissistic. If this writer had not been raised in a war zone, she would have had to invent a heroic story for herself.

“It’s not easy to be a woman who writes without compromise in an Arab country”, she writes. As much as she claims to reject victimhood, I think it’s victimhood - as an Arab female poet writing on sex and eroticism – that she most enjoys.

[Nadine · Rating 2 out of 5]

In the beginning, the author states that the book is not solely addressed to the Westerners but also to her fellow Arabs. I think it's very tricky to target both audiences at once, for each group requires different treatment that the author was not aware of.
When speaking to the Westerners, her main goal -or at least what was conveyed- was to destroy stereotypes about Arab women. By doing so, she neglected the many compressed layers that make up our Arab societies that need to be discussed from within. She proceeded to claim that many women, like her, dress however they wish to, and no man can prevent them from doing what they want. I find this rather misleading and inaccurate. The author did not acknowledge her privilege and certainly did not tackle the hardships that come along with being that woman.
On the other hand, speaking to her Arab fellows requires going a step further to acknowledge and identify the complexity behind our realities and only then we'll be able to analyze the layers behind them. It's unfair and shortsighted to dismiss that our societies are controlled by colonialism, occupation, and wars, and certainly affected by internal revolutions that make it impossible to compare to any Western society (that by the way could be the reason for our oppression). The author fell into the trap of copying the individualistic approach of the West and therefore failed to not be condescending.

Other irritating but not-so-trivial points:
-She overused the term "collective schizophrenia" and this generalized diagnosis is so out of place.
-How can a self-proclaimed feminist brag about not being like other women? "I read this and I read that" while other women fantasized about their weddings. OK? then what? Are you saying you're superior? good for you. It puzzles me when women put other women down and shame them for their choices or even for their realities that made only these "choices" available to them. So misogynistic and paternalistic. What for? to get male validation, or worse the West's validation.
-Cursing her homeland throughout the whole book while thanking two ministers for supporting her work? talk about privilege. No wonder why she shifts the blame to the oppressed citizens when the real one to blame is the corrupt government.

It gets worse...
-"I am not superficial, but a woman's oily hair, messy clothes and hairy armpits are on my scale as much a "no-no" as silicon lips/cheeks/tits, and wherever else they inject that substance nowadays." and ".. women believe that this battle for equality demands giving up their femininity." I couldn't believe my eyes when I read this. I couldn't believe that a self-proclaimed feminist is saying this nonsense. I'm sick and tired of women "mansplaining" feminism to the world, and doing it wrong anyway! You not identifying with a certain school of feminism does not negate its existence and the need for it to exist for other women. It's embarrassing.

[Carla Coelho · Rating 4 out of 5]

Joumana Haddad nasceu e cresceu no Líbano, onde ainda hoje vive. Intelectual, escritora e poetisa, é também editora da revista Jasad, publicação cultural dedicada ao corpo e ao erotismo. Este livro, que inaugura o lançamento de uma nova editora em Portugal (Sibilia Publicações) é um misto de autobiografia e manifesto. Na sua formulação original serviu de base a uma peça de teatro levada à cena nos Estados Unidos. A autora questiona o que significa ser árabe e em particular ser uma mulher árabe. Recordou a sua infância, o acesso aos livros como passaporte para uma liberdade sonhada e o modo como constrói esse mesmo sonho de criança: “Adorava ler por muitas razões: lia para respirar; lia para viver (tanto a minha vida como a dos outros); lia para viajar; lia para escapar a uma realidade brutal; lia pata abafar as explosões da guerra do Líbano; lia para ignorar os gritos dos meus pais, o seu dia-a-dia de discussões e sofrimentos; lia para alimentar a minha ambição; lia para ganhar forças; lia para afagar a minha alma; lia para esbofetear a minha alma; lia para aprender; lia para esquecer; lia para recordar; lia para compreender; lia para ter esperança; lia para planear; lia para acreditar; lia para amar; lia para desejar e pata me excitar …
E lia, especialmente, para ser capaz de honrar a promessa que tinha feito a mim mesmo de que, um dia, a minha vida seria diferente (…)”
Em alguns momentos do livro recordou-me As identidades assassinas de Amin Malouf, pela capacidade de questionar o que normalmente identificamos como as coordenadas existenciais dos outros e de nós próprios. O livro é provocador, convocando o olhar ocidental, mas também as mulheres árabes que devem reivindicar a sua liberdade. Claro que Haddad sabe distinguir as realidades. Há espaço em que tal reivindicação não é possível (como sucede com as meninas forçadas a casamentos precoces), mas há muitos outros que identifica como sendo responsabilidade de cada mulher não abdicar da liberdade que é naturalmente sua. É neste ponto que nos explica o porquê de matar Xerazade, modelo antiquado que continua a ser a mulher árabe de referência.
O livro está escrito de forma enérgica, com uma excelente edição em português, tornando a sua leitura um verdadeiro prazer. É inteligente e provocador, criando-nos a vontade de ler mais obra desta autora (creio que nada mais está, por ora, editado entre nós).

[E · Rating 3 out of 5]

This made a strange read. I did enjoy many of the personal reflections, and much of the political content (including treatment of "feminine work" as work), but parts of it also rubbed me the wrong way: Haddad dismisses other people's point that she wouldn't have written this work if she were Muslim. I agree with that dismissal, but she never addresses the spectral point beyond it: that she might never have gained her privileged position (from which she can write this work) had she not been born into a Christian family. Simply, she simply glosses over Lebanon's complex political and religious troubles, mentioning once that different religious groups never had much of a problem with one another before 1975 – okay, I'm paraphrasing, but the statement seems suspect, even naive, especially given Lebanon's inequalities, entrenched in the political system, legally enshrined. Haddad has quite a lengthy go at the hijab and burqa, but with the same "default garments of oppression" argument, which I feel has been refuted and debunked (they can be garments of oppression, of course, but to assume that as a default position – it's a BIG assumption, and not a true one).

Anyway.

Use of the term "Arabs" has its own colonial implications (erasing racial and ethnic minorities in the Middle East), and I guess I wish Haddad were more aware of this and how it might interplay with gender. More personally, I wished there had been more about queer politics (that would've been interesting, especially since this is about gender, and I would've liked to read more about the intersection of gender and sexuality – out of personal interest).

The blending of the personal and political is always an interesting approach. The result is sometimes moving (such as "An Arab Woman Reading the Marquis de Sade" and "An Arab Woman Living and Saying No") but other times limit the arena of the argument/ideas of the essay ("An Arab Woman Redefining Her Womanhood").

Overall, the essays are densely packed with ideas and reflections, and they inspired me to ruminate on why I agreed (or disagreed) with the material presented – so definitely worth reading.

[M. · Rating 1 out of 5]

هكذا قتلتُ شهرزاد عباره عن 190 صفحة من التناقض

نبدأ اول شي بالمقدمة
دايم مقدمات جمانة حداد طويلة بشكل ممل
على الرغم ان مقدمة هذا الكتاب 30 صفحة , حسيتها 100 صفحة من الملل

حاولت وانا اقرا كتابها ان اصير متقبله لكل شي مختلف بس انصدمت لجرئتها اللي احيانا تصير وقاحة
اول شيء مستخدمه مصطلحات لا تليق بانسان "مثقف" والسبب اللي خلاني احط كلمة مثقف بين قوسين لان بين كل فصل وفصل تركز على انها هي المرأه العربية المثقفة والذي منه

وغير المصطلحات الوقحة كان تطاولها على الله غير مقبول
اللي لاحظته من كتبها هي هوسها ب "ليليت" المرأه التي خلقت قبل حواء (حسب الاسطورة) وصار هوسها بذي الاسطورة شي غير مقبول وممل


نجي الحين للتناقضات
طول الكتاب تتكلم عن ان مفروض كل امره عربية تقرر بنفسها اللي تبيه وان مفروض ما احد يغصب المرأه على شيء واصلا جمانة لديها مجلة اسمها "جسد" ومن اسمها ممكن تعرف وش تتكلم عنه بعدين تناقض كل كلامها بالنصف الاخير من الكتاب على انها تحتقر اللي تظهر جسدها وتحتقر المحجبة وتعتبرهم سواء


ما فهمت بالضبط انتِ مع الحرية الشخصية بعدين تحتقرين الناس اللي يمشون على حسب حريتهم الشخصية ؟


ماراح اتكلم عن تطاولها على الله لان الصراحة مابي اخوض بذي الاشياء


الشي الوحيد اللي عجبني بهالكتاب هو الترابط بين الفصول بنهاية كل فصل سطرين يعطوك فكره عن وش الفصل الثاني بيتكلم عنه


اخيرا : جمانة حداد صدمتني بكتاباتها توقعتها كاتبة مثل سيلفيا بلاث وفرجينا وولف ولكن لاسف كتابها هذا وكتاب "عودة ليليت" وضحولي انها امراه "مهايطه" لا غير

[Jumana · Rating 3 out of 5]

"حجر فوق حجر وأنا امرأة عربية تمشي على طريق. والجدار بيني وبيني ولا منفذ في الأفق".
قد لا تعترف جمانة حداد بمدى إحباطها من الواقع العربي والكم الهائل من التابوهات التي واجهاتها . لكنها عبرت عنه بنبرة غاضبه وكأنها تخلصت من ثقل وعقدة في حاجبيها في آخر صفحة بالكتاب.
محبطة من النساء العربيات الخاضعات لتابوهات صنعها المجتمع والدين الذي يجعل منها اقل إنسانية من الذكور ...وكذلك عبرت عن استقلاليتها كأنثى دون اي غضب من الذكور كما فعلت كثير من المناديات بحقوق المرأة وهذا اكثر ما أعجبني في كتابها.

ذكرني عرضها بدراسة نفسيه تقول بان بطبيعة النساء أنهن اكثر ميلا الى التحرر من العادات والتقاليد ، وهذا بالنسبة لي طبيعي جداً كون المجتمع ذكوري بحت يؤمن بإنسانيتها الناقصة.

جُمانه

[Farah Aridi]

I seem unable to describe this book. I am speechless, overwhelmed, proud!!! No one could have said it better. Haddad turns her anger into a masterpiece, and speaks (though never claims to) for every woman who feels like her and believes in similar choices and dogmas. I salute her efforts and I have to humbly admit that I have not read a good book by an Arab woman, a Lebanese woman, nonetheless in quite a long time. Joumana Haddad is one such woman.