Hijab Butch Blues: A Memoir

Product Information

The author, a queer Muslim who immigrated to New York as a college student, explores the importance of family, being true to oneself, and the tenets of a religion often at odds with queerness. This memoir in essays with narratives, at times, witty, sharp, poetic, and descriptive is woven with stories from the Quran. The combination leads to the author strengthening her relationship with Allah. The book probes internal conflicts around what coming out is meant to accomplish and to whom. The author persistently challenges a world that classifies identities in rigid absolutes. The book's relevant and timely discussions of race, sexual orientation, and religion offer an empathetic approach to understanding them. VERDICT This book is recommended for all public and academic libraries. —Katy Duperry Library Journal This book is testament to the fact that I am not alone at all. There is comfort in that solidarity, and it is a reminder that our mere existence is a form of resistance. It seems easier to ease herself out of sight than to grapple with the difficulty of taking shape in a world that doesn't fit. She is a queer teenager growing up in a Muslim household, a South Asian in a Middle Eastern country. But during her Quran class, she reads a passage about Maryam, and suddenly everything shifts: if Maryam was never touched by any man, could Maryam be… like Lamya?

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H. | Goodreads

Their frustration at this common all-or-nothing view about coming out (that family who don’t accept your queerness should be cut off forever) is something I share. The author says it perfectly: “This is why my story has to remain untold: I have everything to lose.” They write about how important their family’s love for them is, and vice versa, and that coming out could mean losing both.

Searing . . . a bold story of taking hold of one’s life and building something completely unique.” — BuzzFeed While Lamya refers to the chapters of the book as essays, the chapters flow seamlessly together and are laden with thoughtful metaphors – sometimes, quite abstract.

HIJAB BUTCH BLUES | Kirkus Reviews HIJAB BUTCH BLUES | Kirkus Reviews

Lamya H: There’s a freedom that displacement offers, in the sense that it allows you to invent yourself anew. And I think there are ways in which, at least in my experience, it made it possible because I was so used to moving around a lot. I felt like I could be queer in the ways that I wanted to, and if things didn’t work out, I could move. It’s also interesting because I think displacement is also such a big theme in Islam. So many prophets were displaced. Musa [Moses], for example, moving with his people across the Red Sea to a different land, and even Prophet Muhammad moving from Mecca to Medina. That’s such a theme both in Islam and in my life. And I think it definitely relates to queerness. In the sense that it made it possible for me to live my queerness in ways I don’t necessarily know I would have been able to [if I was] living in the same city my parents were in, or even the same country. With that said, this memoir stands out for me as one I know I'll be thinking about for a long time to come. I devoured this book, while simultaneously trying to savor it. It was just so good I couldn't help myself, like when someone gives you a favorite treat as a kid and you try to make it last, but you fail miserably. Lamya starts Quran study readings with a Queer Muslim group and discovers that Muslims can pray side-by-side instead of the traditional male in front of the female hierarchy. She “nerds out” about a new tafsir of the Quran, and becomes closer to her friend Manal as the two read, interpret and discuss the surahs together.

I am fourteen the year we read Surah Maryam in Quran class. We, as in the twenty-­odd students in my grade, in the girls’ section of the Islamic school that I attend in this rich Arab country that my family has moved to. It’s not a fancy international school, but my classmates and I are from all over the world—Bangladesh, Nigeria, Egypt, Germany—and our parents are always telling us to be grateful for our opportunities. Mine are always reminding me why we left the country I was born in a decade ago—a country where we lived next door to my grandmother and a few streets down from my cousins, where I remember being sur­rounded by love—to this country where we don’t know anyone and don’t know the language and my mother can’t drive. My parents are always listing reasons we’ve stayed: better jobs, more stability, a Muslim upbringing. Which includes an Islamic education in school. full review to come but WOW i love love love this book, including when (honestly especially when) i felt extremely called out by the author as they described queer indispensability,,,,,,, I admire Lamya’s courage when they come out to their Muslim doctor – an “aunty doctor”, in Lamya’s words. This coming Tuesday marks the pub day for Hijab Butch Blues, a new coming-of-age memoir by Lamaya H that centers the author’s queer hijabi Muslim immigrant experience. The title is a playful spin on Stone Butch Blues, the iconic novel by Leslie Feinberg that has become a beacon of butch and masc-of-center identity exploration in queer literature.