Where has Sheherezade gone?

Today I shared excerpts from Azar Nafisi's memoir, 'Reading Lolita in Tehran', as a supplement to Marjane Satrapi's 'Persepolis'. I realized in the sharing that I am so in step with the feminine voice, especially the voice that has overcome the oppressive silence that the patriarchy has imposed on it. This is the voice of defiance and of regeneration, of cheeky instigation and that weighty mythological archetype of eternal justice: the Furies!  

I'm entirely concerned with and about the suppressed female voice: Why are there so few story tellers from the Arab world, for example? Where has Sheherezade gone? She told her stories as a means of escape and survival. I would argue that more important than duping her captor, Sherherezade crafted life in her stories. She revived humanity. So what happened to the rest? Have they given up?

To be fair, when I asked this question, I was given one title 'The Forty Rules of Love'. It was a beautifully written book that reincarnated Rumi. Still, I find such a deficit there.

 

If I were able to go back to school and even think about a master's thesis, I think I would focus my study in this space. I'm highly interested in female memoir-based literature: Mary Karr (my inner Texas voice), Anne Lamott, and Andrea Gibson (spoken word). I love Mary Shelly and Christina Rosetti, too, and am happy to go old school.  

Maybe some day. Maybe.