Scan barcode
A review by aforestofbooks
A Woman Is No Man by Etaf Rum
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This is 100% making it on my top books of 2024.
Before I say anything, I just want to acknowledge how difficult this must have been to write for Etaf. I know she was worried that this story would play into the stereotypes and prejudices people have about Muslims and Islam, especially relating to the role of women, arranged marriages, and abuse. I can say with confidence though, that this book does an excellent job distinguishing between culture/tradition and religion. We get a couple scenes where Isra or Deya notice the difference between what they're taught about Islam and what plays out in their lives and how it doesn't make any sense. It's also something I've realized myself over the last few years-how people are bound to their culture more than their faith, to the point where they act like culture is God over their religion.
I was originally planning to read Evil Eye first, when someone on Instagram told me it's actually her second book, so I quickly placed a hold on this book. I didn't even bother reading the synopsis, so I went into this book not sure what to expect...
This book hurt to read. It made me so angry I wanted to break something. And all I could think about was how this could have been me, and how it was almost me, but I got lucky and "ran away". I wasn't expecting to come away understanding my culture and family better, even though I'm not Arab, but I did. Etaf Rum wrote a book that was life-changing for me and one I will never ever forget.
We get three POVs–Isra, Deya, and Fareeda–one from each generation, which I think perfectly captured the generation divide that many of us have experienced or are experiencing. I saw so much of myself in Isra and Deya, to the point where it was triggering and painful. It brought back dark memories and parts of my past that I had forgotten. And while I hated this book for that, it also forced me to reflect and accept what I have been through and be proud of where I am today.
Isra as a character felt very much like me: quiet, dutiful, constantly trying to please and get people's approval and love, justifying the abuse, and blaming herself. I felt so much for Isra. I understood her darkness, her hopeless, her unhappiness. I cried for her because she was trying so hard, but felt like she was failing as a mother to her daughters. She wanted things to be different and better for her daughters, but she couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think a lot of people might find this difficult to understand, but unless you've been in these shoes, and felt what it's like to be trapped in a corner, with nowhere to go, no good options, you end up succumbing to what you know, what tradition and culture has taught you, and despite knowing about the horrors, you push it away because it's easier to ignore and just accept sometimes.
We see some of this in Deya too as she straddles between accepting that this is her lot in life and wanting to stand up for herself and fight back. So many parts of this book gave me deja vu. Both Deya and Isra reminded me of different parts of my past. Isra came first, then Deya, with a little but if Sarah sprinkled in. I felt so much for this young girl wanting desperately to know the truth and find a way out of the cycle of abuse she's witnessed and experienced. I understood when she didn't know what to do or what the best decision was. And I understood her fear. Fear is so powerful, but I'm glad Deya's self-preservation was stronger, just like it was for me.
Fareeda was a very interesting pov. Her chapters felt like everything I have heard growing up written out in paragraphs. At the same time, seeing this topic discussed across generations was very eye-opening for me. I felt like I finally understood why moms say and do the things they say and do. It doesn't make it okay at all, but sometimes understanding can be part of healing. Imagine living a life of occupation, displacement, starvation, abuse, being told over and over again that this is your role in life, and having no other options. It's very hard to think outside of a life like that. Anything that isn't your norm is scary and dangerous. There's comfort in sameness, even if that sameness means continuing on the cycle of abuse and trauma. Because it's something you can understand and predict. I think there's even a small part that says "If I went through this, so should you", which I don't think was discussed much in this book, but something I truly believe. Maybe it's the need to have others who can sympathize with you that make mothers and grandmothers want the same thing for their daughters...
Sarah is a character I have mixed feelings for. I did like her role in Deya's character development, but I think at times she was too harsh on the girl. While she didn't want Deya to follow in her footsteps, she also wasn't as forthcoming and helpful as I think she could have been. Yet at the same time, maybe the harshness was what Deya needed. I do think she could have been more understanding and accepting of Deya's point of view though, especially when Deya talks about how she felt her mother hated being a mother. Sarah denies this and says Isra loved being her mother, but I think it takes away from Deya noticing from a young age the way her mother treated her and her sisters. Even Isra notices herself acting in ways she shouldn't. And while that can be explained by her depression, I don't think it should take away from how Deya feels based off her memories of her.
There were a few scenes that stood out to me. The one where Sarah finds out her friend Hannah was murdered by her husband and realized that the same thing could happen to her, but her mother doesn't care. Sarah, Isra, and Deya realizing that despite their mothers having experienced abuse themselves, they're still okay with their daughters ending up with the same fate. And Deya confronting Fareeda about the truth and watching Fareeda make excuses for her son, but say absolutely nothing about protecting Isra more. All three girls come to realize that their gender means nothing to not just the men in their family but also the women who have raised them. And I think this is something that is prominent in all cultures. Sometimes the people who you would expect to have your back because they have gone through something similar are the ones twisting the knife in deeper. It's a painful realization to come to however.
The book ends kind of bittersweet. We see Deya able to go off to college and attain that freedom she's craved so badly, but we're also left with what might be Isra's final moments of trying to attain her freedom, yet we know as the reader how that ended.
I'm going to add a bunch of quotes I highlighted from this book here because I want to be able to go back and reread them.
"I don't know, it's just...Sometimes I think maybe happiness isn't real, at least not for me. I know it sounds dramatic, but...Maybe if I keep everyone at arm's length, if I don't expect anything from the world, I won't be disappointed."
"It was because they'd been loved in their lives that they believed in love, saw it surely for themselves in their futures, even in places it clearly wasn't."
"She had to give him what he wanted and enjoy giving it to him, too. And she would do that. She would give him herself if it meant he'd give her his love."
"If you live your life waiting for a man's love, you'll be disappointed."
"Maybe once she was married, she could finally be free."
"Or perhaps it was because Isra had been raised to think that love was something only a man could give her, like everything else."
"She knew that the suffering of women started in the suffering of men, that the bondages of one became the bondages of the other."
"But pretending nothing's wrong is not protecting yourself. If anything, it's much more dangerous to live pretending to be someone you're not."
"No matter how I look at it, I'm still being forced to get married. Just because I'm offered options, that doesn't mean I have a choice. Don't you see? A real choice doesn't have conditions. A real choice is free."
"She wasn't sure of the precise reason, but if her own family was willing to throw her away to the first man who asked, then why should she expect more from anyone else? She shouldn't. She was only being safe, she reasoned. She was only protecting herself."
"It's the loneliest people who love books the most."
"You're making it sound like I have more power over my life than I actually do, and it's not fair. If things were really that simple, then why didn't you do that yourself."
"You're telling me I need to accept myself for who I am, that I need to stand up for what I truly believe in instead of running away, but that only sounds good in theory. It doesn't work like that in the real world. Self-acceptance won't solve my problems, and courage won't get me anywhere. These things sound great in some inspirational speech, or in a book, but the real world is much more complicated."
"Isra resented her books in these moments when she thought about the limits of her life and how easy courage seemed when you boiled it down to a few words on paper."
"Words can do extraordinary things, but sometimes they were not enough."
"And, if that wasn't enough, how could they have urged her to get married young and quickly, as her parents had done. How could they risks something like this happening again? Happening to her?"
"Knowing she couldn't change things–that she didn't have a choice–made living it more bearable."
"That she would do the same thing to her daughters that Mama had done to her. That she would force them to repeat her life."
"Deya wanted to scream. No one she'd ever met actually lived according to the doctrines of Islam. They were all hypocrites and liars!"
"If we educate our women, we give them power over their lives and over themselves. And if we allow them this power, they're not going to put up with the injustices committed against them."
"Instead of reaching out, she is taught to reach in, conceal, pretend. When she internalizes this experience, she begins to enforce this silence in the women around her, teaching her daughters and granddaughters to do the same, a passing down of silence."
5/5 stars. A book I hope every immigrant girl reads.
Before I say anything, I just want to acknowledge how difficult this must have been to write for Etaf. I know she was worried that this story would play into the stereotypes and prejudices people have about Muslims and Islam, especially relating to the role of women, arranged marriages, and abuse. I can say with confidence though, that this book does an excellent job distinguishing between culture/tradition and religion. We get a couple scenes where Isra or Deya notice the difference between what they're taught about Islam and what plays out in their lives and how it doesn't make any sense. It's also something I've realized myself over the last few years-how people are bound to their culture more than their faith, to the point where they act like culture is God over their religion.
I was originally planning to read Evil Eye first, when someone on Instagram told me it's actually her second book, so I quickly placed a hold on this book. I didn't even bother reading the synopsis, so I went into this book not sure what to expect...
This book hurt to read. It made me so angry I wanted to break something. And all I could think about was how this could have been me, and how it was almost me, but I got lucky and "ran away". I wasn't expecting to come away understanding my culture and family better, even though I'm not Arab, but I did. Etaf Rum wrote a book that was life-changing for me and one I will never ever forget.
We get three POVs–Isra, Deya, and Fareeda–one from each generation, which I think perfectly captured the generation divide that many of us have experienced or are experiencing. I saw so much of myself in Isra and Deya, to the point where it was triggering and painful. It brought back dark memories and parts of my past that I had forgotten. And while I hated this book for that, it also forced me to reflect and accept what I have been through and be proud of where I am today.
Isra as a character felt very much like me: quiet, dutiful, constantly trying to please and get people's approval and love, justifying the abuse, and blaming herself. I felt so much for Isra. I understood her darkness, her hopeless, her unhappiness. I cried for her because she was trying so hard, but felt like she was failing as a mother to her daughters. She wanted things to be different and better for her daughters, but she couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think a lot of people might find this difficult to understand, but unless you've been in these shoes, and felt what it's like to be trapped in a corner, with nowhere to go, no good options, you end up succumbing to what you know, what tradition and culture has taught you, and despite knowing about the horrors, you push it away because it's easier to ignore and just accept sometimes.
We see some of this in Deya too as she straddles between accepting that this is her lot in life and wanting to stand up for herself and fight back. So many parts of this book gave me deja vu. Both Deya and Isra reminded me of different parts of my past. Isra came first, then Deya, with a little but if Sarah sprinkled in. I felt so much for this young girl wanting desperately to know the truth and find a way out of the cycle of abuse she's witnessed and experienced. I understood when she didn't know what to do or what the best decision was. And I understood her fear. Fear is so powerful, but I'm glad Deya's self-preservation was stronger, just like it was for me.
Fareeda was a very interesting pov. Her chapters felt like everything I have heard growing up written out in paragraphs. At the same time, seeing this topic discussed across generations was very eye-opening for me. I felt like I finally understood why moms say and do the things they say and do. It doesn't make it okay at all, but sometimes understanding can be part of healing. Imagine living a life of occupation, displacement, starvation, abuse, being told over and over again that this is your role in life, and having no other options. It's very hard to think outside of a life like that. Anything that isn't your norm is scary and dangerous. There's comfort in sameness, even if that sameness means continuing on the cycle of abuse and trauma. Because it's something you can understand and predict. I think there's even a small part that says "If I went through this, so should you", which I don't think was discussed much in this book, but something I truly believe. Maybe it's the need to have others who can sympathize with you that make mothers and grandmothers want the same thing for their daughters...
Sarah is a character I have mixed feelings for. I did like her role in Deya's character development, but I think at times she was too harsh on the girl. While she didn't want Deya to follow in her footsteps, she also wasn't as forthcoming and helpful as I think she could have been. Yet at the same time, maybe the harshness was what Deya needed. I do think she could have been more understanding and accepting of Deya's point of view though, especially when Deya talks about how she felt her mother hated being a mother. Sarah denies this and says Isra loved being her mother, but I think it takes away from Deya noticing from a young age the way her mother treated her and her sisters. Even Isra notices herself acting in ways she shouldn't. And while that can be explained by her depression, I don't think it should take away from how Deya feels based off her memories of her.
There were a few scenes that stood out to me. The one where Sarah finds out her friend Hannah was murdered by her husband and realized that the same thing could happen to her, but her mother doesn't care. Sarah, Isra, and Deya realizing that despite their mothers having experienced abuse themselves, they're still okay with their daughters ending up with the same fate. And Deya confronting Fareeda about the truth and watching Fareeda make excuses for her son, but say absolutely nothing about protecting Isra more. All three girls come to realize that their gender means nothing to not just the men in their family but also the women who have raised them. And I think this is something that is prominent in all cultures. Sometimes the people who you would expect to have your back because they have gone through something similar are the ones twisting the knife in deeper. It's a painful realization to come to however.
The book ends kind of bittersweet. We see Deya able to go off to college and attain that freedom she's craved so badly, but we're also left with what might be Isra's final moments of trying to attain her freedom, yet we know as the reader how that ended.
I'm going to add a bunch of quotes I highlighted from this book here because I want to be able to go back and reread them.
"I don't know, it's just...Sometimes I think maybe happiness isn't real, at least not for me. I know it sounds dramatic, but...Maybe if I keep everyone at arm's length, if I don't expect anything from the world, I won't be disappointed."
"It was because they'd been loved in their lives that they believed in love, saw it surely for themselves in their futures, even in places it clearly wasn't."
"She had to give him what he wanted and enjoy giving it to him, too. And she would do that. She would give him herself if it meant he'd give her his love."
"If you live your life waiting for a man's love, you'll be disappointed."
"Maybe once she was married, she could finally be free."
"Or perhaps it was because Isra had been raised to think that love was something only a man could give her, like everything else."
"She knew that the suffering of women started in the suffering of men, that the bondages of one became the bondages of the other."
"But pretending nothing's wrong is not protecting yourself. If anything, it's much more dangerous to live pretending to be someone you're not."
"No matter how I look at it, I'm still being forced to get married. Just because I'm offered options, that doesn't mean I have a choice. Don't you see? A real choice doesn't have conditions. A real choice is free."
"She wasn't sure of the precise reason, but if her own family was willing to throw her away to the first man who asked, then why should she expect more from anyone else? She shouldn't. She was only being safe, she reasoned. She was only protecting herself."
"It's the loneliest people who love books the most."
"You're making it sound like I have more power over my life than I actually do, and it's not fair. If things were really that simple, then why didn't you do that yourself."
"You're telling me I need to accept myself for who I am, that I need to stand up for what I truly believe in instead of running away, but that only sounds good in theory. It doesn't work like that in the real world. Self-acceptance won't solve my problems, and courage won't get me anywhere. These things sound great in some inspirational speech, or in a book, but the real world is much more complicated."
"Isra resented her books in these moments when she thought about the limits of her life and how easy courage seemed when you boiled it down to a few words on paper."
"Words can do extraordinary things, but sometimes they were not enough."
"And, if that wasn't enough, how could they have urged her to get married young and quickly, as her parents had done. How could they risks something like this happening again? Happening to her?"
"Knowing she couldn't change things–that she didn't have a choice–made living it more bearable."
"That she would do the same thing to her daughters that Mama had done to her. That she would force them to repeat her life."
"Deya wanted to scream. No one she'd ever met actually lived according to the doctrines of Islam. They were all hypocrites and liars!"
"If we educate our women, we give them power over their lives and over themselves. And if we allow them this power, they're not going to put up with the injustices committed against them."
"Instead of reaching out, she is taught to reach in, conceal, pretend. When she internalizes this experience, she begins to enforce this silence in the women around her, teaching her daughters and granddaughters to do the same, a passing down of silence."
5/5 stars. A book I hope every immigrant girl reads.