Ijeoma is only eleven years old when the Nigerian Civil war breaks out. In the hopes of keeping her safe, her mother sends her away to live with a grammar school teacher and his wife, not realizing that they will treat her as little more than a house girl. Here, she meets another child, someone who will change the course of her life forever. Amina. They fall in love, despite the fact that Ijeoma is Igbo and Amina is Hausa... and they are both girls. When their love is discovered by others, Ijeoma is forced to come to terms with her sexuality, the homophobia surrounding her, and asks herself a question: is hiding yourself, no matter the cost, truly worth it -- even in a place where the penalty is jailtime or, even worse, death?
From the very first page, Okparanta submerges you into the fearful world that Ijeoma is living in. It's 1967, and the Nigerian Civil war is about to be in full-swing. Dealing with tragedy and grief even at this early age, Ijeoma grows up with a sort of ingrained sense of responsibility and practicality, and the knowledge that life is fleeting. Immediately, I was struck by Okparanta's ability to turn these events into something both heartening and beautiful. The imagery she is able to construct with such effortlessness is striking and brings you fully into the scene.
We spend most of the story embedded deeply within Ijeoma's, our heroine's, thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, novels of this type can make one feel as if you are constantly being pulled away from the action, but Okparanta masterfully weaves both action and thought together, making them one combined element, so that there is never a sense of boredom or of being stuck in the middle of someone's navel-gazing. It also helps that Ijeoma is a fascinating character, fully realized; it feels as if you are in the middle of conversation with her. Although she is tormented at every turn by homophobia, the religious kind in particular, the questions and doubts she has (both about her own sexuality and about religion's bogus terming of her as an "abomination") are always filled with a common-sense reasoning. It's refreshing to read a story about a young woman dealing with homophobia who becomes her own champion, and who dares to ask: just because this is supposedly the way of things, does that mean that other paths and lives do not exist? Are they not valid, merely because we have only been told one half or version of the story?
This is a book that, I think, is essential not only for LGBT+ Christian readers, but openminded Christian readers in general (I won't waste my time saying that homophobes should read this book; clearly, caring for others and love for their neighbor doesn't matter to them). Woven throughout the tale are Nigerian folktales as well as Biblical stories, and I thought that Okparanta's usage of Joseph's story was particularly wonderful and brought this novel full-circle. There's a mixture of Bible passages, of discussions of the reality and meaning of dreams, of what moral tales are meant to represent to us. Ijeoma's voice is clear, distinct, and always rings out with surety, even as she tells us about the darkest times of her life.
Despite the clear, beautiful, flowing language, the beauty of Ijeoma's character and story, and the message behind this novel, I must also emphasize how hard it is to read. There were several times I was forced to take a break, and I did find myself in tears at some points. The vividness of Okparanta's writing brings the devastation of homophobia and hate crimes fully to life. But despite it all -- or, perhaps, because of it -- this story is nonetheless about love, hope, about how we choose to reveal ourselves to others and what they choose to do with that information. It's a masterpiece of lyrical writing, but also of human emotion, strength, and Okparanta's ability to bring all of those elements together.
Though this story takes place in Nigeria -- with some of the strictest, most severe punishments for same-gender love in the world -- it's not merely a commentary on the homophobia there, but worldwide. This is not an issue singular to Nigeria, nor to Africa as a whole. It isn't an issue singular to America, or to Asia, or to any one place in particular. Instead, this is a worldwide way for people to easily show their hatred and their fear of what is different from themselves. An easy way for people to give into their basest, lowest instincts, to not love thyself and thy neighbor, but instead to take part in acts of hatred and evil.
Highly, highly recommended, though again I must say that please keep the warnings above in mind, and take care of yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment