It's easier to seek out joy when I think of it as a prescription
Celebrating a one year Substack anniversary
I am hungry for healing, and trying to follow my instincts about what might help settle the inflammation in my body and ease my joint pain. As part of this healing process, I am seeking out joy, moving closer to it, investigating what fills my cup. I scan the horizon for sunshine, I am keen to meet up with friends I haven’t seen for a while, I want to fill up on good art. This search and desire brings up all kinds of questions: Who am I to seek out joy? Have I done “enough” work (of the professional and domestic variety) to justify a walk that lasts all afternoon? Have I been productive? It is a lot of noise and as I examine these thoughts more closely, (I’m reading Tricia Hersey’s excellent new book Rest and Resistance at present) I’ve been thinking of joy as a prescription, something medically necessary as I try and get well.
Last week for example, I watched an incredible show called We are Lady Parts by British filmmaker Nida Manzoor that I can’t stop thinking about.
The show follows Amina, a 26 year old PhD microbiology student who is keen to get married, loves the guitar but suffers from extreme stage fright, and loves those around her deeply. Some people see her as not “conservative enough”, others see her as not taking the search for a husband seriously enough, others see her as too serious and not “liberal” enough. She has a group of friends but cannot be fully herself with her friends either. She daydreams, draws too much meaning from small moments, is messy and awkward and passionate - and I can’t remember the last time I liked and identified with a female protagonist so much.
There are other characters as well and we see their respective journeys, but this story is definitely focused on Amina. This is not a story about a Muslim woman from a strict family trying to break free and “just play her music” - (that story is old and tired and frankly boring), this story is about someone who cares about their faith and doing the right thing, who cares about not hurting or disappointing people she’s grown up with, and is trying to figure out the right path for her. She does not want to be excluded or banished, she wants to be good and to be accepted, and sometimes that desire means she sacrifices herself and her interests. Sometimes it means trying to do everything that matters to her so that she doesn’t let anyone down. She wants to be at her friend’s bridal shower just as much as she wants to be in a rock band.
Though it touches a bit on Islamophobia this is not a story about external acceptance of Muslims, this is a show about finding the multiple places where one fits, about internal validation, about female friendship, about how offering your very specific offering to the world is an act of courage and a gift because it allows others to be themselves too. It is a story about accepting all parts of yourself and figuring how to show up as fully you without sidelining any part of your identity. It’s a tiny, very specific story and I loved it.
I heard a podcast interview with writer/director Nida Manzoor where she spoke about trying to make We Are Lady Parts as joyful as possible, and this intention shines through. The colour palette of the show is vibrant. There are dream sequences and Austen references; the show delights in play. The show also feels defiantly, unapologetically itself. In the same interview, Manzoor talks about a pilot episode of the show that got negative and positive feedback alike from Muslim women, and that experience gave her freedom. It made her realize that “I can’t win, and when you can’t win, you might as well do your own thing.”
Depicting a different time period and a different world, I’ve been watching and thinking a lot recently about the Netflix show “Derry Girls”. Set in the 90s, the show follows a set of teenage friends and their families and community in Northern Ireland. In Season 1 they are 16 years old. There is Erin Quinn and her cousin Orla (their mothers are sisters), Erin’s best friend Clare, their friend Michelle and Michelle’s cousin James. In this show, Erin is at the centre and her mother, father, grandfather and aunt are more prominent than the other parental figures in the show. The principal of their convent school is also part of the adult set of characters surrounding the girls. There is conflict in the backdrop but the teenage characters are more concerned with school rivalries, seeing their favourite bands, meeting boys and escaping their parents and principal. It’s very very funny, and joyful and specific and I highly recommend it.
Both of these shows are about women, but have men in them that support and uplift the central female characters. Both reminded me of the importance of having spaces where one can bring their full self and be understood. For me, that space is this little Substack newsletter. Monday February 6 2023 was the one-year anniversary of A Little Bit of Hope, and I’m so appreciative of everyone who has subscribed here, shared the newsletter, become a paid subscriber, left a a comment and reached out to share what this space has meant to you. More than anything, this newsletter is my deepest joy, and as I continue to seek out joy and heal, this newsletter is a big part of that journey. Thank you for being a part of this year.
It’s Black History Month, and this year, instead of a TBR list, I want to share my favourite reads from the past year from Black writers. This isn’t everything I read, but my favourite books. Some of them I’ve already written about or mentioned here, and I’ve included the corresponding newsletter articles here:
Communion: the female search for love by bell hooks
A five star read, this book explores the female search for love, and discusses how how women have been disappointed by men, how women have been encouraged to de-prioritize love, and how women have been told that they are better at love than men, even though that is not innately true. It explores how we are surrounded societally by ideas of love based on saving and romantic fantasies, as well as narratives on how to manage men (hooks describes popular books about relationships as examples), and survive/be in patriarchal relationships, but we are not taught how to challenge patriarchy and transform the whole system. This book talks about how there is work that men need to do, but that there is also work that women need to do to be rooted in ourselves and have a circle of love around us. This book is about transformation, about mutuality, about self-love, about commitment, and about being with, and alongside men in ways that challenge and end patriarchy. This was the first book I read in 2022, and I finished it with a lot of notes in the margins and in my notebook.
Set Boundaries, Find Peace by Nedra Tawwab
The Book of Delights by Ross Gay
Son of elsewhere by Elamin Abdelmahmoud
The Light We Carry by Michelle Obama
What is bringing you joy this February? I’d love to hear what you’re watching/reading and thinking about.