Viewport width =
August 7, 2016 | by  | in Books |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth

★★★★★

Author: Warsan Shire

Publisher: Flipped Eye

 

Some of you may know Warsan Shire as the young woman who wrote the words that accompanied Beyonce’s Lemonade. What some of you may not know is that Shire was the first Young Poet Laureate for London, and she is also a voice for the marginalized.

In Shire’s debut collection, Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth, she writes of rape, trauma, diaspora, immigration—some narratives that are hardly heard of in the West. Her writing is hauntingly beautiful and painful and may leave you feeling raw, but the coarseness of the subject matter is perfectly offset by the delicacy of Shire’s words.

The collection is short, but the poems are dense and should be savoured. The poem “Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre)” is an excellent retort to anti-immigrant xenophobia, and could not be more relevant: “When I meet others like me I recognise the longing, the missing, the memory of ash on their faces. No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark.”

The stories explored in her poems are not only intriguing, they are necessary.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. VUW Halls Hiking Fees By 50–80% Next Year
  2. The Stats on Gender Disparities at VUW
  3. Issue 25 – Legacy
  4. Canta Wins Bid for Editorial Independence
  5. RA Speaks Out About Victoria University Hall Death
  6. VUW Hall Death: What We Know So Far
  7. FANTA WITH NO ICE
  8. New Normal
  9. Come In, The Door’s Open.
  10. Love in the Time of Face Tattoos

Editor's Pick

Uncomfortable places: skin.

:   Where are you from?  My list was always ready: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, puppy dogs’ tails, a little Spanish, maybe German, and—almost as an afterthought—half Samoan. An unwanted fraction.   But you don’t seem like a Samoan. I thought you were [inser

Do you know how to read? Sign up to our Newsletter!

* indicates required