Due to boring circumstances beyond my control, I will not be online much in February. Fortunately I’ve been able to line up a number of stellar guests to fill in for me. Most are writers, but I also thought it would be fun to get some publishing types to explain what it is they do, teach you some more about the industry, and answer your questions, as well as one or two bloggers.
Today we have Randa Abdel-Fattah and not just because she’s a Sydneysider like me. She’s one of those amazing writers who manages to produce novels while holding down a demanding job and looking after her kids. (Little known fact: the majority of novelists have day jobs.) Enjoy!
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Randa Abdel-Fattah is the award-winning author of young adult novels Does My Head Look Big in This?, Ten Things I Hate About Me and Where The Streets Had A Name. She is thirty and has her own identity hyphens to contend with (Australian-born-Muslim-Palestinian-Egyptian-choc-a-holic). Randa also works as a lawyer and lives in Sydney with her husband, Ibrahim, and their two children. Her books are published around the world. Randa is a member of the Coalition for Peace and Justice in Palestine. She writes on a freelance basis for various newspapers and has appeared on television programs such as the ABC’s First Tuesday Book Club, ABC’s Q and A and SBS’ Insight. You can find out more about Randa or contact her through her website.
Randa says:
A couple of the guest posts have discussed books and race/ethnicity and it’s a topic I feel very passionate about so I thought I’d add my two cent’s worth. I’ve presented some parts of my post below in various talks but have added some more to it as well (once I get started on this issue, it’s very hard for me to stop).
It sounds trite to say this (forgivable in a blog post?) but a love of books transcends race, culture, ethnicity, colour. To be uplifted by words, moved to tears of joy or sorrow by a story, travel through the past and present, knows no nationality or religion. Books have the ability to transform people. As writers we wield immense power and there is something at once magical and terrifying about this. About our power to create subjects and objects; judges and judged. We take our pens (okay, our keyboards) and purport to portray individuals, communities, cultures and races using a frame of reference that can sometimes do little justice to those we seek to portray.
Okay, so it’s no secret I’m Muslim so I’m going to offer my insight into this problem from my personal point of view. That kind of power represents one of the difficulties Muslims have faced in the sea of books that have sought to characterise, sermonise and describe them, as though we’re some kind of crude, monolithic bloc. I mean, how many times do you trawl through the shelves of bookstores only to see that Muslim women only ever feature as protagonists or characters in crude orientalist-type narratives in which women achieve ‘liberation’ because they have ‘escaped’ Islam or are victims of honour killings, domestic violence and oppression because of Islam? I have a habit (I can’t let it go) of checking out bookshelves just to annoy myself. You know the shelves, holding a list of unimaginative but prolific titles: Beneath the Veil, Under the Veil, Behind the Veil, The Hidden World of Islamic Women, Princess, Desert Royal, Sold, Forbidden Love, Not Without My Daughter , Infidel . . .
I’m conscious that the fact that I’m Australian-born, that I’m a Muslim, that I have a Palestinian father and an Egyptian mother who have both lived longer in Australia than they have in either Palestine or Egypt, has both closed and open doors for me in my life. I’m conscious that I’m neither part of Australia’s dominant culture nor part of a minority. I‘m conscious of the fluidity of my identity because it is an impossible demand of a country founded on immigration to expect a pure demarcation between citizenship and heritage, between minority and majority.
Despite the fact that I’m Aussie-born, I’m sometimes deemed to be part of a minority because of my Muslim faith and my Middle-Eastern heritage. Growing up, and sometimes even now, I have felt both marginalized and included. I have felt that I belong and I have felt like an outsider. But when it came to the books I read as a child and a teenager, and the movies I watched, I only ever felt that that part of my identity that was Muslim and Middle-Eastern was strictly slotted into a minority status, invariably represented in terms of crude stereotypes. I learned fairly quickly that I would not, as a Muslim of Arabic heritage, survive the country in which I was born and was being raised without choosing how I would define myself. Without demanding the right to self-definition I was a nappy head, a tea towel head, a wog, a terrorist, a camel jockey, a fundamentalist, an oppressed woman, a slave to Muslim men. The negative imagery of Islam and Muslims I saw saturating the arts pushed me to insist on my own self-definition and to take a proactive approach. I was motivated to provide readers of contemporary fiction with an alternative narrative and to give agency and a voice to a Muslim female character who defied the usual stereotypes.
When I wrote my first YA novel, Does My Head Look Big In This?, I wanted my readers to suspend their judgments and prejudices and engage at a very personal level with a Muslim teenager, Amal, and her journey of self-discovery. I wanted to invite my readers to challenge their preconceived notions about Islam and Muslims and encounter a story in which a Muslim teenager explores what it means to come of age in the sometimes stiflingly conformist world of the young.
Using humour to tell Amal’s story was strategic. When I wrote Does My Head Look Big In This? I was acutely conscious that given the breadth of stereotypes and misconceptions I wanted to confront, there was a real risk that I could sound boringly preachy. I therefore found that Amal’s self-deprecating, humorous outlook on life was the best way to humanise ‘the Other’ and avoid preaching to my readers. Humour enabled me to confront people’s misunderstanding of Islam and Muslims without plaguing my characters with a victim complex (oh, plus the fact it’s rare to think of ‘Muslim’ and ‘humour’).
But hang on a second. Let me make it clear that I’m no apologist and I certainly don’t seek to write novels which selectively present the ‘cream of the crop’ of Australian Muslims, denying the existence of Muslims who distort Islamic teachings to oppress women or who confuse culture with religion to exact an appalling abuse of Islamic teachings (plenty of examples of that happening around the world).
My second novel, Ten Things I Hate About Me, is a novel in which I sought to confront the reality of Muslim teenagers who experience great difficulty straddling between their Aussie, Muslim and Arabic identities and who withdraw to the safety of anonymity in order to achieve acceptance by their peers. The novel also addresses the sometimes sexist rules applied to brothers and sisters by their parents and the dishonest conflation between culture and religion (you know the kind, ‘the girl has a curfew but the guy has no limit to when he gets home’ etc). To write from a platform of legitimacy and to be taken seriously requires an honest insight into what is happening in Aussie Muslim communities (interestingly, I’ve received mail from around the world from teenagers of all different backgrounds, not just Muslim, who identify with Ten Things I Hate About Me).
I’ve always been concerned about identity issues for young people and as an Aussie-born Muslim I feel I am better ‘qualified’ to give expression to young people’s experiences than somebody of non-Muslim background who writes about Muslims through a prism of us/them, subject/object.
A critic once implored me to see the importance of writing about issues faced by all sorts of Australians, rather than limiting them to those of my culture. I reject this. Anglo writers do not attract that same instruction.
Australians of Anglo background are not defined as ‘Anglo writers’ (that applies to any westerner). It almost sounds absurd. And yet I am sometimes described as a ‘Muslim writer’. When I wrote Does My Head Look Big In This? and Ten Things I Hate About Me my objective was firmly set in my mind: I wanted to write about the lives of two Australian girls. I wanted to challenge the typical definition of the mainstream, of dominant culture, and show that these two girls, one who wears the veil, one who is of Lebanese descent, are a part of the mainstream, rather than interesting deviations from the norm. I wanted to normalize their experience, demonstrate that it is embedded in their Australian identity and life, rather than migrant or foreign identity.
There is no doubt that my first three novels have centered on my own personal world (my fourth novel to be released in Oz this year is a crime fiction/legal thriller for teenagers but that’s another topic, with its own issues, altogether).
So far I’ve been navigating identity struggles, family politics, community and relationships. Although works of fiction, I’ve drawn on my own religious identity and ethnic heritage, not because I seek to add another title to the ‘exotic Islamic/Middle Eastern’ bookshelf, but because I believe it is high time contemporary fiction recognised Muslims as human beings and dispensed with the one-dimensional Muslim caricature. For me, it’s about taking ownership over how my faith is represented and narrated.
Thanks for your post, Randa. I can’t believe I haven’t picked up any of your books yet! I really look forward to reading them next time I head to the library.
Do you think it is possible for someone who isn’t a Muslim to write sensitively about Muslims without resorting to a “one-dimensional Muslim caricature”? Do you think writers should be actively trying to incorporate difference in their work or do you think this just creates more problems?
Thanks again.
Thank you so much for this post. Lots to learn from this.
And I’m going to look for your books NOW.
I loved Does My Head Look Big In This? When will your third book be out in the States.
How are teens in Oz responding to your novels?
How is the YA market in Oz as it relates to culture and identity?
Thank you for your books, which I haven’t read yet, but I’ve seen them and just seeing them made me glad of their existence. I appreciate honest portrayals of people of faith, especially ones that break stereotypes. Since religion is one of those taboo discussion topics, especially in schools, all most kids ever learn about religions different than their own are the actions of extremists you hear about on the news or misinformation fed them by not-knowing-any-better-themselves authority figures. So thank you again.
Does My Head Look Big In This? (which I read a few years ago, when I was a freshman in high school) was my first introduction to an opinion regarding the hijab outside of the rather narrow-minded “But it’s oppressive!!!” opinion that a lot of misguided but well-meaning people (and, as Amal says, feminists) tend to have. Reading the list of reasons why she should or shouldn’t make the choice to wear it was a kind of small revelation for me, and got me interested in reading about the issue as a whole – I still have incredible respect for your book (and, by extension, you). It’s definitely one of the most personally influential books I’ve ever read.
Hi!
I just wanted to say that I read Does My Head Look Big In This? last year and I loved it so much–it was one of my top 10 YA reads of the year. It meant a lot to me to know that you are writing your experiences, and I found the book to be extremely powerful. I loved Amal’s character, and I loved how you showed her learning to empathize with people that initially she had little in common with, or was resistant to understanding. I thought that worked so well because that’s something every one of us can relate to.
I have a question regarding Amal’s neighbor in that story, the elderly woman. I believe she was a Bosnian immigrant? I wept shameless copious tears when I was reading the chapter where she told Amal and the reader her story, and I was wondering:
a) why you chose that particular character to be Amal’s gateway (and ours, through Amal) towards acceptance, and
b) if her character was based on someone from your own life, or if you were able to create her experiences mostly through research.
I also wondered if, as a writer, you feel your primary goal is to use your experiences and your knowledge to confront stereotypes and tackle questions of identity, as you stated in your post; or if your primary goal is to entertain first and educate second. I’m really curious about what sort of cultural themes will be present in the crime thriller, for example!
Justine, thanks so much again for having Ms. Fattah guest blog! This made my day. Ms. Fattah, please please keep writing! <3333
Caveats to previous comment:
– I meant to properly address you as Ms. Abdel-Fattah, I’m sorry!
– I want to clarify that I mention “education” in the context of your being a YA novelist writing for teens, because I think it’s always an educational space and I’m always curious about how different YA novelists navigate that. Especially because for you, humor was your way of getting to a place where you could illuminate (maybe a better word?) readers with regard to Amal’s life without having it come across as preachy– but still, as you said, write from a platform of legitimacy.
I’ve been meaning to pick up “Ten Things..” and this is a great excuse to do so. Thank you both again!
I read “Does My Head Look Big In This?” last fall, and I’m not Muslim, Australian, or of immigrant stock, but there was a lot in the book to relate to (maybe I was just sold at the Cat Stevens reference, having had a mini-crush on him/his music throughout much of high school 🙂 ). Also probably partially because I am a Baha’i and a lot of our social laws are similar to Muslim ones. I have read exactly one novel about a protagonist of my religion and it was 20 years old and stiflingly preachy. I think the preachiness dilemma is a reason so much children’s and YA lit avoids religion, or only represents certain well-known types or stereotypes. Why does explaining always set off people’s Stop Preaching At Me bells? And if it needs to be explained to an audience who doesn’t get it, or who’s never heard of it, then it’s a problem. I think that tension is probably why protagonists default to White Middle-Class of Indeterminate Christian or Agnostic Background, because to the mainstream, that doesn’t need explaining.
I loved Does My Head Look Big in This? For the precise reason you state above, I thought the hijab was used to opress women, I an American teen who has had no contact with Middle Eastern Muslims (I do have a friend who is African and Muslim) thought that the hijab was un-feminist and I felt sorry for women I saw wearing it. Thanks to Does My Head Look Big in This? I realize how very wrong and limiting this view was. Yes some girls are forced to wear the hijab, but some like Leila don’t mind and some like Amal make the decision on their own. And the hijab has beneift; it hides the bad-hair days 🙂 Seriously though, it’s an expression of faith, no different than wearing a cross or Star of David (I think anyway). Humor is definitely a crucial part of why I loved this story, I found it hilarious and since i read it for a 24 read a thon, it woke me up when I was drifting off!
Thank you for writing the stories you do with authentic teen voices that we can relate to, but also that celebrate the diversity of the Muslim faith and culture. I look forward to reading Ten things I Hate About Me and Where The Streets Had No Name 😀
From one hyphenated American-Black-Panamanian-Catholic-choc-a-holic to another hypenated person, I salute you and say ‘pshh’ to all those who think that you limit yourself in only writing about Muslim cutlure. Keep doing what you do!
First of all, thank you to you all for taking the time to post such yummy, feel-good, makes me feel all fuzzy and warm comments. I am reading this at work, trying to avoid writing a horrendously complicated advice to a client, so it is a pleasure to jump on the site and read your comments.
So my response to specific questions:
Beth: Do you think it is possible for someone who isn’t a Muslim to write sensitively about Muslims without resorting to a “one-dimensional Muslim caricature”?
Absolutely. I don’t think there should be any rule that says- Muslims write about Muslims, whites about whites etc. What I do think is that we need to start to have a greater awareness about the value judgements and assumptions underlying the writing so that the one-dimensional caricature can be seen for what it really is. There will always be a problem of authority but that will be solved by how well a writer captures the character’s voice and has actually bothered to research the person’s faith, culture etc.
Do you think writers should be actively trying to incorporate difference in their work or do you think this just creates more problems?
I am wary of dictating to writers any kind of agenda in their writing. If a writer choose to do so then it is probably because that reflects their own interest and passion. I would hate to think we have some kind of ‘affirmative action’ agenda for all books. What we need is a sophisticated change in our general mind-set so that we examine what we define as ‘different’ and what we define as ‘mainstream’.
Doret: You asked When my third book will be out in the States. In your fall.
How are teens in Oz responding to my novels? Really well. They are being taught in schools and the feedback at festivals, through the mail is overwhelmingly positive.
How is the YA market in Oz as it relates to culture and identity?
I think it’s fantastic. We have a wonderful range of books that explicitly and implicitly tackle issues of race, identity, culture etc. We could always use more though!
AJ: a) why you chose that particular character to be Amal’s gateway (and ours, through Amal) towards acceptance, and
b) if her character was based on someone from your own life, or if you were able to create her experiences mostly through research.
I am very close to my grandmother and fascinated by relationships between the young and the elderly, probably because I love story-telling and the elderly (well, the ones I know at least) have a wealth of stories and are the gateway to history. So I was attracted to the idea of a relationship between Amal and an elderly neighbour. Also, because Mrs Vaselli enabled Amal to confront her own prejudices and limitations and therefore learn never to feel self-righteous or give in a to a victim complex without assessing her own behaviour.
I also wondered if, as a writer, you feel your primary goal is to use your experiences and your knowledge to confront stereotypes and tackle questions of identity, as you stated in your post; or if your primary goal is to entertain first and educate second. I’m really curious about what sort of cultural themes will be present in the crime thriller, for example!
I write first and foremost because I love life and I love story-telling. having said that, my interests and passions inform the kind of stories I am drawn to and want to tell which means identity, politics, social justice and such themes are a part of my writing.
PS No problem calling me Randa, AJ. Much less formal!
Thanks again everybody for the lovely words!
Randa… I immensely enjoyed your post – thank you! Much like you I guess – I live between ‘worlds’. I am of the Bardi Mob – an ‘Aboriginal’ group from the top of the Dampier Peninsula – north of Broome. My father is a ‘gudiya’ man – a white man – of Irish heritage.
My wife worked extensively with an organisation that worked with those who survived torture and trauma from parts of the globe where people oppressed other people – for whatever their religion or reason. We have many things to talk on at times. And – sometimes it frustrates the bejezuz out of us watching the narrow view form the unit of measure for those who choose to come here and call this place home.
I long thought of Oz culture to be the by product of a giant blender, when it’s introduced to a spasmodic migratory ‘finger’. It’s a mix this place. At times certain things will ‘blend’ with ease (and perhaps with time). Other ‘things’ simply can’t – but that doesn’t detract from the richness of the solution within. In fact it’s all the better for such things – and I’ve often thought this of all the different ‘cultures’ that have come to land in this place.
Science has a term for such things – there are those substances that combine completely and those that simply can’t due to the nature of their basic properties and chemical make-up. I of course can’t remember these terms – and as we’re talking about ‘culture’ as opposed to ‘substances’ this isn’t an ‘exact science’ so to speak! 😉
But it’s always been my belief that I am ALL of what makes me up – now – not all of what made up my father, mother, brother(etc) THEN. I’m also allowed to be all of these things individually. The parts that make me who I am from a cultural point of view – and thus impact upon how I see my self here in this world – can’t be determined by others. This business is up to me… but it sure doesn’t stop others from doing it for me eh?
I’m so lucky I’m a man… I hate to think of the weight associated with the layers and layers of pre-conceived notions I’d have to wade through if I’d have been born an Aboriginal ‘girl’ in today’s Australian society.
Should you be able to challenge and shift this in any way that’s positive – my hat off to you! I’ve been using humour and simple frankness to do this for years in the work that I do. It comes out now in my writing and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it…
But then – that’s a good thing right? 🙂
More books for the to-read list–hooray! 🙂
Great post.
I just wanted to let you know I’m a Muslim teenage girl and I’ve been on the lookout for Muslims in YA/kids books…oh for as long as I can remember. I can literally list every YA book with a Muslim I’ve read off the top of my head, that’s how rare they are (books where they’re the protaganist: even rarer. Basically I’ve got yours and Dahling, If You Luv Me, Would You Please, Please Smile by Rukhsana Khan. I read that in elementary school, it stuck). It meant alot to me to read Does My Head Look Big in This? and Ten Things I Hate About Me. I didn’t know you had a third book out, I’ll definitely be looking for Where The Streets Had A Name the next time I stop by the bookstore. I’m really glad that you make this effort to reflect your identity in your writing!
Fantastic post. This, in particular, resonated with me as a writer and a woman of colour:
“A critic once implored me to see the importance of writing about issues faced by all sorts of Australians, rather than limiting them to those of my culture. I reject this. Anglo writers do not attract that same instruction.”
Hello Randa! <333
I'm a caucasian Christian girl who lives in a small town in Ohio. I have a passion for learning about other religions and cultures, but because of where I live I have very little exposure to anything other than people similar to me. I admit that when I saw a book on our library shelf with a hijab-wearing girl on the front, I nearly jumped for joy. I had only found one book before with a Muslim protagonist. Amal was a girl I could identify with despite the many differences between us- underneath it all, we were both simply teenage girls.
I'm very thankful to you for writing about Muslim protagonists, and for presenting them in an accurate light (not to mention that the stories are just good!). I love reading about them. It also really helps people like me who know very few people different from them to get past stereotypes they may have. I can't wait to read your newest book when it gets to the US. =)