Praised by Zoe Whittall, Djamila Ibrahim’s debut collection of short stories, Things Are Good Now, is a thoughtful exploration of immigrant experiences and universal themes that concern us all – identity, memory, resilience, and the complicated, and often sticky, web of human relationships.
First and second generation immigrant experiences are central to these stories, and your characters navigate some challenging experiences – surviving an Ethiopian prison, what Hallowe’en is like for a newly adopted child from Ethiopia, a Canadian woman’s choice to wear a hijab and the harassment she suffers as a result. These unfamiliar worlds were what I found so compelling about these stories. What else do you think makes this book resonate with readers?
As you mentioned, the stories explore the experiences of first and second generation immigrants dealing with, among other things, trauma and racism but also speak to more universal themes of love, loss and interpersonal conflicts whether it’s rivalries between siblings, personal ambitions that threaten romantic relationships, or a parent’s struggle to come to terms with the senseless death of a child.
I’ve read that some of your ideas come from the news, and I wonder if you would talk a little about the role current events play for you as inspiration.
Writing is how I process what’s going on around me. And like a lot of people, I’m concerned about what’s happening around the world and here at home whether it’s the rise of islamophobia, xenophobia, anti-Black racism, or violence against women. I’m also very interested in people so when I read about, for example, a Muslim Canadian woman who was attacked because of her hijab, I want to know about her beyond the two dimensional account of her life that I get from the news. I want to understand what it might be like to walk in her shoes so that, hopefully, I can better capture the complexity of her life and feelings.
Something that struck me as I read these stories was the number of women who choose to leave—their men and/or the lives they’ve built—and put themselves at risk in order to find something better or more meaningful. Was this a theme you consciously set out to explore?
No, I didn’t set out to explore this theme. But in hindsight, I can say it somewhat reflects where I was in my life at the time. After working a nine-to-five job for over ten years, I wanted to try something new. I sold my house and most of my belongings and left Ottawa where I had lived for most of my life. I moved around and travelled for a few years before settling down in Toronto. I wrote a good number of these stories while travelling. In the same time period, a few of my female friends had left cities or countries of residence for job opportunities elsewhere, to be closer to loved ones or to escape toxic relationships. I was constantly thinking about the meaning of home and belonging, what it takes to start over and how privileged my friends and I are to be able to pick up and leave, and to do so safely.
There is a line in “a kept woman” that resonated with me and seems like a thread that pulls many of the stories together. “That she might drift so far away from her roots that she’ll lose all sight of what is also beautiful and true about her upbringing . . . Could she salvage these things and still achieve the freedom and autonomy she’s always wanted?” What are your thoughts on an answer to this question?
All teenagers and young adults struggle with their identities and their place in the world. First generation Canadians or those who’ve immigrated to Canada at a young age like Yasmin in the story titled “A Kept Woman” have to contend with an added layer of challenge: to reconcile the culture and faith of their parents to that of the mainstream. Sometimes, younger Canadians of colour like Yasmin might try to distance themselves from their families or communities to escape what they perceive to be constraining rules or unattractive cultural and religious practices then realize they don’t quite fit in elsewhere either. But what I often see is young Black or other racialized, first generation Canadians defining for themselves what it is to be Canadian and what it means to belong. For a lot of us, it’s a learning process, and I don’t think that sense of estrangement, the feeling of existing between worlds, ever goes away completely, but it’s possible to embrace the multiplicity and complexity of the identities we all carry and find meaning and joy, and even freedom, in that in-between space.
I know you are working on a novel based on the main characters in the last story “heading somewhere”. Memory, personal sacrifice and belonging are explored in that story in a fascinating way. The complex triangle between Omar, Sara and Marianne offers fertile ground for a more extended story arc. What is the biggest challenge for you with the longer format of a novel?
What I find challenging right now is the scope of the novel, the extensive research that it requires and to ensure all the different parts work well together. But I’m also excited to be able to write about these characters in depth which the short format doesn’t allow.
Since many of our readers are also writers, what does a perfect writing day look like for you?
A perfect writing day would start with a head full of stories, a quiet space and an uncluttered desk. I find my brain works better in the afternoon and evenings so I spend my mornings doing research, writing outlines etc. On a good day, I can write for six hours, stopping every hour or two to get coffee or treats: nuts, popcorn or anything that contains sugar, butter and dough. I find video games at the beginning of my writing session (sometimes in the middle of it too) energize me and help me focus.
What’s your favourite video game?
Starcraft II, and Scarlett is my favourite pro player.
When you aren’t writing, what’s on your mind?
Story plots and dialogues, and the ever-growing list of books I need to read.
Djamila Ibrahim was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and moved to Canada in 1990. Her stories have been shortlisted for the University of Toronto’s Penguin Random House Canada Student Award for Fiction and Briarpatch Magazine’s creative writing contest. She was formerly a senior advisor for Citizenship and Immigration Canada. She lives in Toronto.
Kathryn Barclay writes fiction, creative non-fiction and for screen. Listener, mother, social media hold-out, and lover of thunderstorms – she lives in Toronto.