We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir Kindle Edition

Samra Habib started life with no ability to affect the course of her future. As a Muslim woman, she was expected to marry a person of her parents' choosing; at 14, she refused that marriage because her husband said he could see times when beating her would be appropriate. The family practiced the Ahmadi variation of Islam, which emphasizes non-violence, and her parents agreed to her refusal. She had amazing courage, even at such an early age.From there, Samra found her winding way to who she was meant to be. Despite the anti-LGBTQ stance of her culture, she not only claimed her selfhood and found her way back to the religion she loves, she helped and still helps other LGBTQ Muslims do the same.We Have Always Been Here is a compelling page-turner. I am grateful to Samra Habib for writing it.Peggy Hendry

A definite quick read for anyone wanting to understand and expand their understanding of different cultures and religions. Simply written, it leaves its mark on you

Read this book for a zoom book club and it's such a great story. If you want to diversify your reading list start here. This author handled this subject with care.

I really loved how honest and authentic this book felt.

This book had me feeling seen in ways I didn’t know possible. Powerful. Insightful. Raw. Real. To be honest, I was sad to finish it.

The ending of the book just filled my heart with warmth, and it’s something I’ll come back to constantly in the future. I hope I can read more from Samra in the future.

Everyone should read this book if they want to understand what shapes the psyches of queer people of color. Incisive and deeply meaningful.

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir was written by Samra Habib, a queer-identified Muslimah who came to Canada with her family from Pakistan. Habib is a journalism graduate who can indeed tell a good story. It was hard to put this book down and the pages rapidly turned themselves. From a failed Muslim marriage to her older first cousin to a Canadian marriage to a different man, Habib broke out of her hetero stranglehold to embrace her inner queerness. She dropped the hijab yet did not abandon Islam, finding a queer Muslim community in Toronto. This is a memoir of a young woman, and I hope she continues to write about her life journey. She has told an inspirational story in her struggle to come out amidst a religious community that often shuns queer existence.Habib told her story with unflinching honesty and candour, yet I found her coming-out revelation to be an unexpected bellyflop. Sure, we all knew she was going to come out of the closet sometime. When talking about wearing makeup, especially lipstick, Habib revealed:"The truth was, I wasn't wearing it for the boys."Habib did talk about her gay friends, lesbian mentors, her first lesbian sexual experiences and where she hung out:"It was surreal to be in a gay bar in Tokyo speaking in my native tongue with a gay Pakistani man from Beijing--like finding a missing puzzle piece under the coffee table while spring cleaning. I wondered where I'd find the rest of the pieces."Yet all of a sudden, at the beginning of a new chapter, Habib became free. I expected more of an anguishing experience in revealing the truth to herself first as she shed her beardish male companions. Not all coming-out stories are the same of course, yet Habib's was akin to flipping the page and finding out that she was now an out woman.Habib's faith in Islam gave her the courage to come out to her mother:"In that moment, I wondered what made me any different from those who projected their own judgments onto Muslim women who wore the hijab or the burka. I had no evidence that she would disapprove. Never in my life had I caught her saying anything remotely homophobic or transphobic. And she wouldn't have, because to her, being hateful in any way goes against her religious beliefs. This was a woman who would recite the motto of the Ahmadiyya community--Love for all, hatred for none--whenever someone directed an Islamophobic remark at us on the street or in shopping malls or grocery stores."Thus when Habib did come out, her mother told her "Okay. I still love you."

This book is a memoir, so well written, you feel like you have been having a one-on-one visit with the author, like you just spent the afternoon having coffee with Samra. She is right: someone like me has never thought about life from a queer Muslim perspective, and she 100% gave me that...and in a wonderful, non-preachy way that inspires my understanding and compassion, and makes me love her and her very interesting family.

I would say the I was captivated by the first two thirds and lost in the last third. Understandably, the memoir goes from her personal story, to the plight/journey/struggle that all queer Muslims face. While providing insight to those of us that do not share these struggles, I felt at a certain point, I still wanted to know more about the authors personal story and was less interested in the larger context, mainly because I really couldn't relate to that larger story and I believe we all can relate to parts of her personal journey.

La autora relata las experiencias a lo largo de su vida de una forma tan meticuloso y hermosa. El libro se centra en cómo fue crecer en Pakistan, después pasar a ser refugiada junto con su familia en Toronto y las dificultades que tuvo al crecer en un entorno fuertemente influenciado por el islam. Es muy conmovedora su lucha por encontrar su voz, su identidad y al mismo tiempo descubrir su queerness. Sin duda es una historia única que representa no solo a la comunidad musulmana y musulmana queer, sino también a todas las minorías que durante años han pasado sin ser vistas, pero que siempre han estado.

I really enjoyed learning another person's experience unpacking and who they are. The spirituality was eye opening. I am Catholic and know so little about a Muslim faith journey which seems so close to my own foundation...and yet it is not. I have to open my eyes and acknowledge my biases. What a truly beautiful read! Samra is a beautiful person and I am grateful she shared her story.

Muslim, queer, scared.. ans still sharing her experience with me. The quiet, serious one teaches greatness. Read and learn, then share.