When the Nobel Peace Prize-winning activist Malala Yousafzai was fifteen, she was shot by a member of the Taliban for advocating for girls’ education—an event that, as she writes in “Finding My Way,” her new memoir, thrust her into “an unfamiliar, unbidden life.” For years to come, she would be gripped by “the feeling that a giant hand plucked me out of one story and dropped me into an entirely new one.” In her book, Yousafzai reckons with the legacy of the incident, and traces the process of reconciling her private sense of herself as an “awkward teenager” with the public idea of her as a “mythical heroine, virtuous and dutiful.” She also writes about her mother, lovingly evoking her contradictions—simultaneous generosity and strictness, bravery and conservatism—and her influence. Not long ago, Yousafzai sent us a few notes about books of mother-daughter relationships she has enjoyed. Her remarks have been lightly edited.
How to Say Babylon
by Safiya Sinclair
This searing memoir follows a woman’s struggle to escape from a rigid Rastafarian upbringing in Jamaica. Reading it, I was reminded of mothers I’ve seen in patriarchal societies around the world—women who silently bear domestic burdens and subjugation by their husbands, while equipping their daughters with the skills and determination they need to break free. Even though Sinclair’s father forbade her from expressing herself, her mother quietly gave her poetry books, teaching her the liberating power of literature. In that way, Sinclair’s mother put her on the path to becoming a writer.
Minor Characters
by Joyce Johnson
The lives of the unseen, unsung young women of the Beat Generation are the focus of this wonderful coming-of-age memoir, which was written by a novelist who dated Jack Kerouac when she was in her twenties. Although the book evokes that era deftly, much of the focus is on Johnson’s childhood, and the way that she had to navigate her overbearing mother’s ambition that she become a famous composer.
When Johnson was twelve, she was forced to sit at the piano for hours a day, though even then she knew that she had neither the talent nor the “feeling” for music. Still, she pursued music into adulthood—it was only when an elderly composer told her that if she didn’t love to play, she should stop, that Johnson found the strength to choose her own dreams.
I think Johnson’s story is one that daughters from many cultures and contexts can relate to—the story of a mother who stifles their child with ideas of who she should be, rather than embracing who she is.
Little Panic
by Amanda Stern
Stern’s memoir recounts her experience with a childhood panic disorder. The book, which is both painful and funny, is ultimately a moving account of how helpless parents can feel when their children suffer. Stern’s mother was often erratic and closed off emotionally, amplifying Stern’s fear of abandonment. But it’s also clear that Stern’s mother was at a loss for how to help her daughter, despite wanting to make her feel better. I know my mom felt the same bewilderment when I struggled with my mental health, and “Little Panic” helped me empathize with her—to understand how frustrating it must be for a parent when they can’t fix the problems inside their child’s head.
This American Woman
by Zarna Garg
People tend to think about mother-daughter relationships as ones where influence runs in one direction: mothers shape their daughters, in ways that can be both good and bad. But, in this book, the influence also runs the other way. Garg was a fortysomething stay-at-home mom when her daughter, Zoya, a teen-ager, noticed that Garg seemed to be yearning for a life beyond doing laundry and cooking meals. Indeed, Garg had long dreamt of being a standup comedian, but she thought it was too late. Yet, because of Zoya’s persistence, Garg reluctantly agreed to give it a try, signing up for an open mike in the basement of a Mexican restaurant. Now, a few years later, Garg has a thriving career in comedy, thanks in part to Zoya’s belief in her.
