Evelyn Shakir – författare

Shakir tells the long neglected story of the bint arab—the Arab woman—in the United States. Drawing on primary sources such as club minutes, census records, and dozens of interviews, she explores the experience of late 19th- and early 20th-century immigrants—mostly Christian peasants from Lebanon and Syria—and their American-born daughters. Later, she moves on to the well-assimilated granddaughters (many of whom have reidentified with the Arab community and begun to fight its political battles). The work concludes with those women—most of them Muslim—who have emigrated over the last quarter century from many Arab countries, particularly Palestinians.While attempting to correct stereotypes that picture Arab women as passive, mindless, and downtrodden, Shakir gives voice to women caught in a tug of war, usually waged within the family, between traditional values and the social and sexual liberties permitted women in the West. Complicating that battle has been the American suspicion of Arab peoples, which has sometimes pushed women—as guardians of a culture under attack—to resist the blandishments of American society. However, the sense of embattlement has sometimes had the opposite outcome, legitimizing women's activities in the public and political realm. Leavened with personal reminiscences by the author, this book introduces a gallery of spirited women, speaking candidly about their differing backgrounds, values, and aspirations. Essential for all scholars and students of America's social and religious diversity.

Shakir tells the long neglected story of the bint arab—the Arab woman—in the United States. Drawing on primary sources such as club minutes, census records, and dozens of interviews, she explores the experience of late 19th- and early 20th-century immigrants—mostly Christian peasants from Lebanon and Syria—and their American-born daughters. Later, she moves on to the well-assimilated granddaughters (many of whom have reidentified with the Arab community and begun to fight its political battles). The work concludes with those women—most of them Muslim—who have emigrated over the last quarter century from many Arab countries, particularly Palestinians.While attempting to correct stereotypes that picture Arab women as passive, mindless, and downtrodden, Shakir gives voice to women caught in a tug of war, usually waged within the family, between traditional values and the social and sexual liberties permitted women in the West. Complicating that battle has been the American suspicion of Arab peoples, which has sometimes pushed women—as guardians of a culture under attack—to resist the blandishments of American society. However, the sense of embattlement has sometimes had the opposite outcome, legitimizing women's activities in the public and political realm. Leavened with personal reminiscences by the author, this book introduces a gallery of spirited women, speaking candidly about their differing backgrounds, values, and aspirations. Essential for all scholars and students of America's social and religious diversity.

Evelyn Shakir crafts tales that are rich in history and cultural detail, setting her stories in different eras, from the 1960s to the present and carrying us back, on occasion, to the turn of the twentieth century. Each in their own way, Shakir's first- and second-generation women work either to reclaim their Lebanese heritage or to leave it behind. In ""The Story of Young Ali"", a teenage girl resists her beloved father's traditional tales of honor and self sacrifice. The matriarch of ""House Calls,"" on the other hand, is so wedded to the past that she returns from the grave to harangue her Americanized family. In ""Oh, Lebanon,"" a young woman who has fled Lebanon's civil war and refuses to cover her hair with a scarf finds that turning her back on her past leads her in unexpected directions. With agile humor and emotional truth, Shakir offers multiple perspectives on the experience of Lebanese women in the United States. Her stories dismantle stereotypes and remind us that women of Lebanese background have been a part of the American narrative for over a century.

Evelyn Shakir paints tales that are rich in history and background. She sets her stories in different eras, from the 1960s to the present, peopled with Lebanese women of different ages, sometimes writing letters, often reminiscing, looking back as far as the turn of the century. In different ways, these first- and second-generation women struggle with feminist issues overshadowed by the demands of dual cultures. In "Young Ali," a teenager tries to listen to her beloved father’s time-honored tales of men in friendship and marriage. Aggie of "House Calls" is a deceased matriarch who returns to haunt her family with reminders of the customs she fought to uphold while alive. Shakir’s other heroines include a thrice-divorced thirty-year-old woman quibbling with a modern matchmaker, an elderly non-Lebanese woman who spies on Muslim neighbors in the wake of 9/11, and a traditional wife and mother who thinks she has found a route out of old-world womanly duties. Many of the author’s women grapple with reclaiming or abandoning ancestral demands, and finessing age-old male-female relationships. In "Oh, Lebanon," a war-haunted Lebanese-born woman willfully departs from the mores of her upbringing with surprising results. With agile humor and emotional truth, Shakir offers multiple perspectives on Lebanese women trying to change roles in a new landscape without surrendering cultural identity.

Evelyn Shakir’s witty, wise, and beautifully written memoir explores her status as an Arab American woman, from the subtle bigotry she faced in Massachusetts as a second-generation Lebanese whose parents were not only foreign but eccentric, to the equally poignant blend of dislocation and homecoming she felt in Bahrain, Syria, and Lebanon, where she taught American literature to university students. She effortlessly combines personal anecdote with cultural, political, and historical background, and is incapable of stereotyped thinking: one of the book’s many pleasures is the diversity she finds among the people she encounters in the Middle East, including not only students, but cab drivers, storekeepers, and the guys who make the spinach pies at the bakery down the street from her apartment. As Shakir explores her own identity, she leads the reader to an appreciation of the richness and complexity of being Arab American (or any mixed heritage) in an increasingly small world.