An insightful memoir-in-essays by a queer nonbinary (she/they) Muslim author, which pairs stories from the Quran with stories about their life. An influential voice in the realm of cultural anthropology and LGBTQ+ studies, Esther Newton’s two memoirs — the first published in 2000 and the second in 2018 — combine personal and scholarly writing on gender and sexuality. Thank you to Netgalley and Random House Publishing for an eARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. | Goodreads

With that said, this memoir stands out for me as one I know I'll be thinking about for a long time to come. You can expect an in-depth review of Hijab Butch Blues from Stef Rubino on Tuesday, but to celebrate its release, I thought I’d recommend some other memoirs that touch on butch identity and impressively weave insightful and deeply personal writing on gender into their narratives. However, I have had LGBTQ+ friends and acquaintances over the years who are adherent Orthodox Jews, Eastern Orthodox and Evangelical Christians and I do not get that. Is it not bad enough that the non-Muslim world falls further and further into depravity and is trying to poison their own children and future generations through Western media? With this simple yet monumental realisation that Lamya is not alone in feeling like this, they are empowered to keep living.

The first chapter, “Maryam,” centers on a narrative that Christians will recognize as a version of the story of the Virgin Mary. I's nice to see how much of how she processes her life experiences is linked to the Quran, but then she veers off into blasphemy. If there are any you’d like to shoutout — including self-publications or out-of-print works — please do.

Hijab Butch Blues - Springer Lamya H.: Hijab Butch Blues - Springer

It wasn’t an exact reflection by any means, but I could recognise so many of the experiences recounted in this captivating memoir.I’m not naїve to think we’ll reach this utopia in my lifetime or possibly ever, but I’m also not faithless enough to think that the direction in which I strive doesn’t matter, that these smaller versions of the world aren’t leading us there. Lamya H does a great job of writing about the intersection of her queerness with her Muslim and immigrant identities. I felt like I agreed with and appreciated a lot of the ideas presented in this memoir, though I didn’t find myself immersed in it. There have been far too many news stories about queer Muslims contemplating suicide or worse, dying by suicide.

Hijab Butch Blues - Icon Books Hijab Butch Blues - Icon Books

Of the people the author does come out to – their doctor, their friends and one friend’s parents – I could empathise with Lamya, and the “complicated calculation” they felt obliged to make each and every time they decide to come out to someone.

Your narrative structure makes me think about both geographical displacement and the displacement of desire – themes present in many religious texts, by way of spiritual and bodily transition. Allah SWT is referred to as HE because He is the Greatest and Most Merciful Creator; to refer to Him as "them" degrades His existence, makes Him feel alien rather than close to our hearts and compassionate, and besides all that, "they" is PLURAL not singular - there is only ONE God. This better world — that is the world I’m fighting for […] A world that is kinder, more generous, more just. Professional life in New York brought the author into contact with a group of mostly straight Muslim feminists who helped her refine a nonbinary vision of God but could not offer her a truly inclusive space.