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A review by sadiereadsagain
On Black Sisters' Street by Chika Unigwe
4.0
This book puts into words why the only real area in my feminism that I struggle with is the world of sex work. Whilst I accept that there are many of those who work in that industry who do so willingly, safely and with autonomy, it is the stories of the others who are not so privileged that make me very angry and upset. And does your average punter know the difference? Do they care? Does the legitimate side of the industry add a legitimacy to this other side that simply should not be there? The women in this book are slaves, trafficked people are slaves, but often they are hidden in such plain sight and possibly mingled in with those who are not so shackled that it must be easy for so many to deny to themselves and others that there is a problem. But there is a problem, and it's huge. And whilst that problem exists, can anyone - even the willing - be safe, respected or completely free of exploitation?
This book is about four women - three Nigerian and one Sudanese via Nigeria - who have found themselves in the red light district of Antwerp, working as prostitutes in the hopes of one day paying off the huge amount their pimp claims they owe him in order to buy their freedom. One of the women is found dead, and the others find themselves opening up to one another in a way they never have before. Slowly, we are allowed into their stories: stories of who they once were, of what they have faced in their lives, and of how they came to be in Belgium. The umbrella over these shared memories is the story of the dead woman - how a promising, educated young woman who strove to escape the poverty and hardship of her upbringing ended up dead, unknown by her real name, thousands of miles from home.
This is a powerful book which covers a lot of painful subjects, not least sexual abuse. None of these women have a inspiring story to tell, and have found themselves in this space between a rock and a hard place due to war, incest, poverty, parental alcoholism and neglect. There are massacred families, children separated from mothers, dysfunctional families and story after story of men raping, abusing and using women.
I shouldn't have been able to keep reading, or at least not been compelled to. But I was. And I think that was down to the sense of being in the story myself. Whilst the writing itself is fine, it isn't spellbinding. But where Unigwe really excels in is dialogue, particularly the balance of English and the spoken Pidgin language of Nigeria. It really sparks and feels (at least to me, a white western woman who has never been to Nigeria) so authentic that you feel as if you are genuinely overhearing a conversation not meant for you as a reader to be part of. It was this that made me feel connected to the characters, to really want to know their stories even though they were hard to read.
This book really hit the mark in my eyes, because it is compelling, whilst holding out some horrible realities which the world needs to be paying more attention to.
This book is about four women - three Nigerian and one Sudanese via Nigeria - who have found themselves in the red light district of Antwerp, working as prostitutes in the hopes of one day paying off the huge amount their pimp claims they owe him in order to buy their freedom. One of the women is found dead, and the others find themselves opening up to one another in a way they never have before. Slowly, we are allowed into their stories: stories of who they once were, of what they have faced in their lives, and of how they came to be in Belgium. The umbrella over these shared memories is the story of the dead woman - how a promising, educated young woman who strove to escape the poverty and hardship of her upbringing ended up dead, unknown by her real name, thousands of miles from home.
This is a powerful book which covers a lot of painful subjects, not least sexual abuse. None of these women have a inspiring story to tell, and have found themselves in this space between a rock and a hard place due to war, incest, poverty, parental alcoholism and neglect. There are massacred families, children separated from mothers, dysfunctional families and story after story of men raping, abusing and using women.
I shouldn't have been able to keep reading, or at least not been compelled to. But I was. And I think that was down to the sense of being in the story myself. Whilst the writing itself is fine, it isn't spellbinding. But where Unigwe really excels in is dialogue, particularly the balance of English and the spoken Pidgin language of Nigeria. It really sparks and feels (at least to me, a white western woman who has never been to Nigeria) so authentic that you feel as if you are genuinely overhearing a conversation not meant for you as a reader to be part of. It was this that made me feel connected to the characters, to really want to know their stories even though they were hard to read.
This book really hit the mark in my eyes, because it is compelling, whilst holding out some horrible realities which the world needs to be paying more attention to.