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313 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 2021
I approached this memoir with great anticipation, knowing Hari Ziyad would further illuminate a black, queer life and hopefully offer comfort in a shared identity to my own. I fortunately received not only a relatable narrative journey, but also an honest, critical analysis of personal racial and sexual vulnerabilities and their societal implications. Coining new language, unpacking institutional baggage, and sourcing relevant, investigative work done before them, the author combines what could easily be an impactful, doctoral dissertation with vivid storytelling. Most striking are the chapters written as letters or prayers to their inner child, engaging introspection as therapeutic conversation, and ultimately recognizing self-actualization as the fullest expression of its voice.
In discharging their trauma and detailing paths to healing, Ziyad never sanitizes for the greater audience, but at the same time, creates space and respect for other paths, histories, and interpretations. Where I differed in practice, I still felt welcomed, and in this current climate, at the height of worldwide digestion of the Black Lives Matter movement and LGBTQ visibility, I find that level of care essential and refreshing for a novel that also wishes to educate. Navigating the landscape of a Muslim father, a maternal lineage in the Hare Krishna tradition (to which they also lean), their grandmother’s mental illness, and poverty in their Cleveland neighborhood of birth, Ziyad reveals their budding queerness in childhood, a preference for non-binary gender expression in maturity, and contradictions within black excellence, spiritual clarity, and community belonging. In bold humility, they also explore their own culpability and perpetuation of harmful ideologies surrounding masculinity, violence, consent, and respectability politics.
Following Hari’s travels, I reflect most fondly on moments of unexpected validation and kinship, and envy their discovery of a partner who not only reaffirms them but keeps them accountable in further growth and their return to tenderness. Dismantling the carceral gaze to black potential and untangling the fears that pervade queer love will take more than our own lifetimes, but I am excited as a reader to add both resources and solace to that effort with this offering.
(5.00 Stars)