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kchin's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
fast-paced
4.0
alexainsworth's review against another edition
4.0
I found myself skimming in the beginning but also slowing down during parts that resonated with me. I loved the way that Habib discussed her discovery ungoing and past. I felt myself truly understanding what it would be like to have gender dysphoria and why you might choose to live with those feelings longer.
carsonelainee's review against another edition
4.0
An amazing memoir! I've wanted to read this for a while and I was finally able to get my hands on the audiobook (which is narrated by the author) through my library! I always love reading about others' queer experience, especially when that experience intersects with their religious trauma, upbringing, and values.
I feel weird critiquing a memoir, because at the end of the day this is a book about a real person's life, but I do have one quick thing to say that would have made me like this book more. I wish that Samra had written more about her experience with religion, her life before coming out, and then what the coming out process was like for her in more depth. Everything felt like very surface-level emotions.
Despite those quick thoughts, I think this is a book that would be worth it for so many people to read. I loved it.
I feel weird critiquing a memoir, because at the end of the day this is a book about a real person's life, but I do have one quick thing to say that would have made me like this book more. I wish that Samra had written more about her experience with religion, her life before coming out, and then what the coming out process was like for her in more depth. Everything felt like very surface-level emotions.
Despite those quick thoughts, I think this is a book that would be worth it for so many people to read. I loved it.
perusinghannah's review against another edition
4.0
If you only have time for one queer read during pride this year, I think We Have Always Been Here would be a mighty fine choice.
There's always such value in reading a memoir by a queer person from a culture that stereotypically does not treat their lgbtqia+ community well. They bring forward a nuance that you won't easily find anywhere else, and this book was no different.
It starts off at the very beginning of Habib's life and takes its time exploring cultural identity in childhood before anything else. But while I definitely appreciated this painting a very complete picture, I didn't connect to anything emotionally right away. To me, it felt like the author kept us at arms length here, and I missed a bit of nuance in the recollection of childhood emotions. That's not to say I desperately wanted to read the in depth suffering of a youngster, but more that it was quite jarring to read a suicide attempt when up until that point there'd hardly been any mention of inner turmoil at all.
Luckily this did get much better the further we got into the story and author's life, and I thought Habib did a beautiful job of describing the sense of identity that comes with the rituals and togetherness tied to religious culture. Inclusive religious spaces are so important to settle fully into a complete sense of self, and the way the author worded her feelings on this made me cry more than once.
What I loved most of all, though, was her reflection on her relationship with her parents, and specifically her mother. There's such warmth here even in more tumultuous times, and the nuance in the development of their understanding of each other was fantastic. Growing up means coming to terms with and getting to know your parents as individuals, and this memoir absolutely nailed it.
All in all a memoir that took some time to settle into, but once it had me, it had me completely. Highly recommend.
There's always such value in reading a memoir by a queer person from a culture that stereotypically does not treat their lgbtqia+ community well. They bring forward a nuance that you won't easily find anywhere else, and this book was no different.
It starts off at the very beginning of Habib's life and takes its time exploring cultural identity in childhood before anything else. But while I definitely appreciated this painting a very complete picture, I didn't connect to anything emotionally right away. To me, it felt like the author kept us at arms length here, and I missed a bit of nuance in the recollection of childhood emotions. That's not to say I desperately wanted to read the in depth suffering of a youngster, but more that it was quite jarring to read a suicide attempt when up until that point there'd hardly been any mention of inner turmoil at all.
Luckily this did get much better the further we got into the story and author's life, and I thought Habib did a beautiful job of describing the sense of identity that comes with the rituals and togetherness tied to religious culture. Inclusive religious spaces are so important to settle fully into a complete sense of self, and the way the author worded her feelings on this made me cry more than once.
What I loved most of all, though, was her reflection on her relationship with her parents, and specifically her mother. There's such warmth here even in more tumultuous times, and the nuance in the development of their understanding of each other was fantastic. Growing up means coming to terms with and getting to know your parents as individuals, and this memoir absolutely nailed it.
All in all a memoir that took some time to settle into, but once it had me, it had me completely. Highly recommend.