Lyrical. Raw. Redemptive.

HOW TO SAY BABYLON captures Safiya Sinclair’s stifling upbringing at the hands of her father and his Rastafarian beliefs. This memoir is simultaneously a love letter to the people of Jamaica and a critique of the repressive community she was raised in.

I love how Sinclair has wrestled with her childhood trauma and has chosen to share her voice, spread her wings, and find forgiveness. My prior knowledge of Rastafarian culture was limited and I appreciated the unique perspective Sinclair offered.

The audiobook narrated by Safiya added another layer of depth and vulnerability to the book. HOW TO SAY BABYLON is the October @readwithjenna pick and one I highly recommend!

Many thanks to Simon Audio and Simon Books Buddy for an ARC and ALC in exchange for an honest review.

Poet Safiya SInclair's memoir of her upbringing in Jamaica is as good as memoirs get. She describes with unblinking honesty what it was like growing up in a house ruled by her tyrannical, misogynistic father, a strict adherent of Rastafarianism. Her mother saved her by providing her with books on the sly, at great risk to both of them. How to Say Babylon also stands out for the hypnotic quality of Sinclair's prose (not surprisingly) and its powerful sense of place. Eventually, Sinclair escapes to the U.S., where her incisive mind and aesthetic sensibility combine to make her a standout student and award-winning writer. In 2016, she published her debut poetry collection, Cannibal. How to Say Babylon is an exceptionally absorbing and compelling read. Highly recommended!

I finished this a while ago, and I just had to sit with my feelings about it for a bit. Firstly, I absolutely loved the writing in this memoir, you can tell she has a background in poetry. It was lyrical, emotive, and flowed beautifully.
I also loved how she incorporated historical context re the rise of Rastafari in Jamaica and the societal impact it had on those who chose to follow this religion/movement.
Also, giving us background on her parents lives growing up, and how that eventually shaped the people who they became was pivotal to the story of her family and the way it impacted them.
Although her story isn't a unique one, a child growing up in a strict religious household and struggling to express themselves and form their own identity away from how their parents raised them. The way that Safiya writes about it, punches you in the solar plexus and makes you want to scream.
This memoir is an absolutely amazing read and I encourage everyone to read it.

A beautifully written story of freedom, self discovery, and courage. It’s poetic, lyrical, and captivating. This story of survival both fascinated and wrecked me. I would absolutely recommend this to anyone who enjoyed Educated, The Glass Castle, or Born a Crime.

3 stars
Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for this ARC.

This was a tough memoir to read for sure, and it's easy to see how much emotion and time Safiya Sinclair put into it. I feel like I learned from reading this, and I enjoyed learning about Safiya's experience growing up in Jamaica and the history of Rasta, as well as so many other things she shared that I had no idea about. I read memoirs to learn about other's lives and experiences and cultures, and this memoir absolutely did that for me.

I personally wasn't a gigantic fan of the writing style, but that's absolutely a personal preference and is in no way a criticism on Safiya. Her writing style definitely reflects her being a poet, which for me meant that there was a lot of symbolism which I'm not a huge fan of. The pacing was really slow for me personally, and while I appreciate the time it took for her to weave her story and for all of that emotional impact to sink in, it just made it a slow read for me. Safiya's writing is beautiful and artistic, and I think that's something that individuals who are more patient than me will really enjoy.

I'd recommend this book to anyone who loves poetry, or loves memoirs. As I said before, it definitely taught me about a way of life that I'm absolutely unfamiliar with. It's a great story about the closeness of family and the ways that people and families grow over time. It does have some strong triggers though, so if you have sensitivities I would recommend checking those before reading this book.

"The countryside had always belonged to my father. Cloistered amidst towering blue mahoes and primeval ferns, this is where he was born. Where he first communed with Jah, roaring back at the thunder. Where he first called himself Rasta. Where I would watch the men in my family grow mighty while the women shrunk. Where tonight, after years of diminishment under his shadow, I refused to shrink anymore. At nineteen years old, all my fear had finally given way to fire." (loc. 80*)

Growing up in a strict Rastafari household in Jamaica, Sinclair learned above all to guard herself against the dangers of Babylon: against imperialism, Christianity, atheism, white people, impurity. Her parents loved her and her siblings fiercely, fought for them to get the best education possible, but at the same time, her father's adherence to religion, and his dissatisfaction with his circumstances, got more and more stifling. He would do anything to protect his daughters from Babylon—even if that meant destroying them in the process.

"Years later, while retracing the history of my family's journey into Rastafari, I would eventually come to understand that my mother felt called because she wanted to nurture, and my father felt called because he wanted to burn." (loc. 352)

This is such a complicated, heart-wrenching story, and it is absolutely *beautifully* written. I didn't know, going in, that Sinclair is a celebrated poet, but I guessed that she was a poet within the first few pages. One of the things I love about poetry (or, poetry done right) is that it calls for such precision of language, and when a poet can translate that skill into prose—not an easy job—it can be phenomenal. Part of Sinclair's story is about learning to hone her skills as a poet, but even when she's writing about writing (a memoir topic I approach with extreme caution), she's writing as well about survival. Because her father could hold her back from the gates of Babylon, but he could not make her desire the restricted life of subservient daughter, subservient wife, voiceless poet.

I'm not sure where Sinclair is going as a writer from here, but wherever it is, I'll follow.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

How to Say Babylon by Safiya Sinclair

I wanted to like this book, which I received from the publisher, more than I did. The author’s writing is beautiful in places and just too long in others. My main displeasure was the continual abuse the Rastafari father dishes out to the family throughout the story. There should be a disclaimer.

Safiya talks about leaving the family the entire book, yet when she has the chance to stay away, she goes back for more of the escalating mistreatment from a volatile man. That amount of emotional, physical and mental abuse is abominable. Her reaction is Stockholm Syndrome on steroids. She constantly seeks his approval, which she will never get.

Safiya’s accomplishments are extremely admirable and I enjoyed reading all that she overcame solely with her determination. I learned much about Rastafari and dreadlocks. On the other hand, I learned a lot about control and hypocrisy from her father.

I rate this 3 stars and suggest it for those who like memoirs where you will cheer for the underdog and learn about different cultures and customs.

Sinclair is a poet first, which is evident in her prose. Clear and lyrical with deep emotion and connection throughout. This is not an easy read, Sinclair has survived a lot to become the woman she is today, and she is not afraid to tell every detail.

Raised in a fundamentalist Rastafarian family, Sinclair explores the limitations pressed on women within the culture and on her own father’s manipulation of his faith to express his own trauma and terrorize his family. Sinclair manages to make the case for why people stay in abusive relationships and the strength it takes to escape. She also shows us a girl, who even as she cowers is full of resistance and resilience.

This is a story of strength, generational trauma, race, power, religion, gender and most of all heart.

Rich and lyrical, while at the same time tyrannical and heart-wrenching. Renowned poet Safiya Sinclair’s memoir “How to Say Babylon” isn’t an easy read, however it’s worth the dive into its depths.

Sinclair intertwines stories of the Jamaica tourists don’t see with the strictness and misogyny of the Rasta she experienced, while telling her own story of supplication, followed by rebellion. It’s the story of someone who goes against what she knows by using what she has, to build the life that she wants while always, always staying true to what she is.

Sinclair’s memory of finding the words and her voice, which leads to her sisters and mother finding their own voices, is poignant and inspiring, while also asking you to take a look at what you think you know about Rastafarianism. Rasta is not Reggae. Reggae is not Rasta, and there’s a whole generation - culture, even - that still yearns for their own freedom outside of the oppression of their own, and the Foreign, and most importantly, Babylon.

Stunning and gracious in its honesty, “How to Say Babylon” is a unique triumph.

Title: How to Say Babylon
Author: Safiya Sinclair
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Reviewed By: Arlena Dean
Rating: Five
Review:
"How to Say Babylon" by Safiya Sinclair

My Sentiments:

'How to Say Babylon' was a different kind of read for me in that it was a 'poet's memoir, of a girl named Safiya Sinclair coming to age story, who was born to parents who wanted to be free of the legacies of slavery and colonialism in Jamaica.' Sinclair tells us a story of her growing up in a voiceless family in a Rastafari household, where there was abuse, control, and poverty, and from its Jamaican history, and culture, with its mythology along with being personal and political in its deliverance. This was quite an interesting story of this young girl growing up under her father's rule and with the teachings of Rastafarian as one is reading the rules 'ranged from what they could eat, to how they wore their hair and where they could go.' This was taken out by her domineering father to his wife, and four children. Was Safiya happy with these rules? Why was her father so abusive and harsh? But still, Safiya seemed to understand why he was like this. If it wasn't a Rastafarian world for their father it was 'Babylon' for his family. It was good to see that Safiya did get some love and strength from her mother in giving her books to read. This story will give one a lot to ponder over long after the read.

This is where I say you must pick up this read to see how the author brings out this memoir to the reader. Yes, I did find the reading somewhat heartbreaking and painful in some instances. But still a good read.

Thank you to Net Gallery and its publisher for the reading of this ARC.

Thank you to the author Safiya Sinclair, publishers 37Ink, and TLC Book Tours, for an advance paperback copy of ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ. Thank you also to NetGalley for an accomanying widget. All views are mine.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ is a stunning memoir in which the author tells of her upbringing that was all the things we should never think of when we think of family. Religious abuse. Cruel beatings. Going hungry. And yet, Safiya kept the spark inside her alive, not just to survive her young life, but to become a creative writer-- to gain the voice she'd always been denied. It's a moving book, full of pain and meaning.

Three (or more) things I loved:

1. I love all the details about the Rastafari way of life. I especially appreciate the information that "Rasta is not a religion..." [My] father always says, echoing the edict he drilled into me and my siblings growing up. “Rasta is a calling. A way of life.” There is no united doctrine, no holy book to learn the principles of Rastafari, there was only the wisdom passed down from the mouths of elder Rasta bredren, the teachings of reggae songs from conscious Rasta musicians, and the radical Pan-Africanism of revolutionaries like Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X. loc. 476

2. Some really great commentary about addiction culture in this book: We puffed and pulled, pulled and puffed. We felt grown- up blowing herb smoke out of our mouths. My mother and father were wrapped in an embrace, looking on and smiling, as luminous as they’d ever been. Our initiation into their private sect was now official. There was no turning back. My sister Ife and I often relive this moment out loud to each other to make sure we hadn’t dreamed it. We were only children then, and didn’t know what we were asking. My parents had pulled us past all reasonable boundaries and into an unknown jungle, their rules and roads growing hazier as we went. My sister and I never smoked anything after that, but the next time my brother picked up a spliff, he was never able to put it back down. loc. 1437

3. She describes religious abuse with perfect clarity. It wasn't Rastafari that harmed her so badly, it was how her father interpreted it and used his interpretation: With us at home, [my father] could still be king. All sights and sounds were his, all words were his. If he rose blissfully, all of us were to be blissful, too, no matter our feelings. He had never washed a dish or plate, never turned on a stove, never touched a broom. My mother placed every meal before him as soon as he beckoned for them, and his Ital diet was our diet. The television remote and every channel we watched were his. His song the only song. And so it followed that our punishment was his alone. loc. 2343

4. Gorgeous expression about black womanhood, even in girlhood: I stayed in bed unmoving, eyeing a cocoon in a jar on our bedside table, where a once jewel-green caterpillar had hardened into a brown thorn overnight, and was now as unrecognizable and unmoving as a dead thing. It was hard to believe anything beautiful could come next. loc. 2468

Three (or less) things I didn't love:

This section isn't only for criticisms. It's merely for items that I felt something for other than "love" or some interpretation thereof.

1. The religious types of abuse perpetrated against women and children in this book gives me a muddied perspective of Rasta. Practicing members (believers? ) eschew faith structures as tools of Babylon, but embrace the ideologies that conveniently allow them to enforce misogyny and child abuse. ...Yes, she sees it too: Our joy made us heedless. Easy prey for the wicked world out there. So, there were to be no more nature walks, and we were not allowed to leave the yard. There was no more running around the bush, no more dancing in the rain. No more jumping and catching sugarcane ash. Our star sign of yes became a stop sign of no, as he reeled us in tighter and locked us under his stare, always with the constant warning, “Chicken merry, hawk deh near.” loc. 1631

2. I had to DNF the book at 54% because of the repeated detailed descriptions of violence against children. This type of content is severely triggering for me and, given the option, I never engage with it. I strongly encourage the publishers to include content warning for child abuse in the book's front matter. That being said however, this is a really strong book and I hope I can finish it some day.

Rating: 💇🏿‍♀️💇🏿‍♀️💇🏿‍♀️💇🏿‍♀️ / 5 daughter severing ties
Recommend? Yes!
Finished: Sep 27 23
Format: Digital arc, Kindle
Read this book if you like:
👨‍👩‍👦‍👦 family stories, family drama
👭🏽 teenage girl friendships
💇🏿‍♀️ women's coming of age
💚 Rastafari
❤️‍🩹 overcoming abuse

Blurb (Kindle Store):
A Read with Jenna Today Show Book Club Pick!

With echoes of Educated and Born a Crime, How to Say Babylon is the stunning story of the author’s struggle to break free of her rigid Rastafarian upbringing, ruled by her father’s strict patriarchal views and repressive control of her childhood, to find her own voice as a woman and poet.

Throughout her childhood, Safiya Sinclair’s father, a volatile reggae musician and militant adherent to a strict sect of Rastafari, became obsessed with her purity, in particular, with the threat of what Rastas call Babylon, the immoral and corrupting influences of the Western world outside their home. He worried that womanhood would make Safiya and her sisters morally weak and impure, and believed a woman’s highest virtue was her obedience.

In an effort to keep Babylon outside the gate, he forbade almost everything. In place of pants, the women in her family were made to wear long skirts and dresses to cover their arms and legs, head wraps to cover their hair, no make-up, no jewelry, no opinions, no friends. Safiya’s mother, while loyal to her father, nonetheless gave Safiya and her siblings the gift of books, including poetry, to which Safiya latched on for dear life. And as Safiya watched her mother struggle voicelessly for years under housework and the rigidity of her father’s beliefs, she increasingly used her education as a sharp tool with which to find her voice and break free. Inevitably, with her rebellion comes clashes with her father, whose rage and paranoia explodes in increasing violence. As Safiya’s voice grows, lyrically and poetically, a collision course is set between them.

How to Say Babylon is Sinclair’s reckoning with the culture that initially nourished but ultimately sought to silence her; it is her reckoning with patriarchy and tradition, and the legacy of colonialism in Jamaica. Rich in lyricism and language only a poet could evoke, How to Say Babylon is both a universal story of a woman finding her own power and a unique glimpse into a rarefied world we may know how to name, Rastafari, but one we know little about.

This was an eye-opening account of a young women's journey from a strict, authoritative Rastafarian household to finding her voice and herself. Some scenes were hard to get through, unimaginable that a father could act in such a way towards the people he claims to love the most. It's a brilliant look into what extremism in the name of "religion" does to men who want power and control. Do I think a lot of his anger came from fear and insecurities? Yes, But that is no excuse for the behavior he continued to torment his family with.

I'm glad the author and her family have found some semblance of peace, but it never had to be like that. This is just another example of the violence and misogyny that is so intertwine with religion/beliefs, in the excuse men use in order to control women, in the blatant hypocrisy.

This book has been compared to "Educated" and I can definitely see the parallels, which makes it even more daunting. That a young girl growing up in the middle-of-nowhere Idaho, in a religiously Mormon household had such a similar experience to someone growing up on the shores of Jamaica in a Rastafarian way of life. It just shows how extremism can cross continents, race, class, and gender.

Learning that the author is also a poet and that's how she started her writing career, it makes a lot of sense. The descriptive writing is done beautifully and really sets the scene - making the reader feel like they are as well in Jamaica. Sometimes I felt the book dragged out and couldn't have been a quicker read, but overall, I would highly recommend this book.

I I'm very interested Story how this girl grew up in jamaica. There was a lot of history to this book. Her father was a R AST AFA RI. The father Was very strict with his beliefs. The mother came from a very dysfunctional background, but she tried to make the best of it, and she loves the ocean. It became more and more interes origin is family suffer because of it Play Reggae music in front of the white people.. You can get very angry sometimes and he would lose jobs because of this. He went to t Japan with his band and he loved the country so much. He met a woman there and fell in love with her while his Wife was back in jamaica with the children. S AFI YA start to rebel against her father because she wanted an education and it was very hard for her. She came to america and she saw what real life was really like. Her father forbidden her from cutting her dreadlocks because this was part of their religion. She did a lot of amazing things like modeling trying to go Get her degree. As I read this book, you can see where they got this ideas and how they traced the history of this religion. The President of Ethiopia came to Jamaica when 1963. They were free from British Rule. B, a b y l o n What's a term that Jamaican? People used for white people?.

Wow. This is hands down the best memoir of the year. Moving, raw, powerful, and singular. The writing is lyrical, beautiful, and every word was clearly a choice, and a good one. I will be screaming at everyone that will listen to read this book.

It is easy to see, from page one, why this is one of the most anticipated books of the Fall. Safiya Sinclair is an award winning poet, a woman who has lived many lives but who was forged first and foremost in her native Jamaica as the oldest child in a Rastafarian family. I admit to ignorance of this culture, of the extreme patriarchy at its heart, explicitly espousing the double standard. Sinclair credits her father's artistic side, but her accomplishments and those of her siblings arise from a wellspring of strength: "My family lived in close quarters and knew the subtle dialect of each other's dreams." In this as in other examples, her prose rumbles like poetry, moving and dipping like the patois of her native country. As she matures she becomes more aware that her father's way of life is not necessarily correct, however she obediently adheres to the strictures he imposes until she finally is able to live her life as herself and not chattel to a man. It is the power of the written word, exemplified by poetry, that gives her the strength to find herself. And this book generously and honestly describes that journey.

I've read several memoirs in the last few years that all have the same thread: a woman who grew up in a fundamentalist culture with an overbearing, abusive father who was later able to use education and literature as a way of escaping. “How to Say Babylon” reminded me a lot of “Educated” – Safiya Sinclair is a brilliant woman who almost got her creativity and hope completely snuffed out by a religion that tried to teach her women are worthless. It is our great privilege that she didn’t let this message become her future.

Sinclair’s memoir details her experiences growing up in Jamaica with a father who became enmeshed in the religion of Rastafarianism. She was taught that her existence should revolve around serving her father and then eventually her husband. With extreme poverty and countless hardships, Sinclair’s father morphed into a man who beat his children and subjugated their mother. Sinclair’s story is a remarkable one. She ended up using her inherent intelligence and perseverance to become an acclaimed poet. But it was not an easy journey by any means.

Because Sinclair is a poet, her writing is rich with plenty of symbolism and imagery. However, the book did feel really long to me. By the time we reached her adolescence, I was eager to see how Sinclair would escape her sheltered life. I was disappointed that she didn’t go into describing how she was able to climb out of the fundamentalism once she reached the US or how the misogynistic messages of her childhood affected her relationships as a young adult. There were some chapters that seemed to drag the story down instead of propelling it forward, and the events I was most interested in were passed over.

Overall, Sinclair is a talented writer and her story is one that will inspire many. It might have been a five-star read for me if there had been a stronger editor attached, but I still appreciate the inner strength she has and how painful the writing process must have been to recount some of her traumatic experiences.

This book was amazing. I did not have much knowledge about Rastafarianism before reading this book, but I appreciate the insight given to being a woman raised with a Rastafarian parent and the issues that can arise. I think this would be a great read for anyone who enjoys narratives about women empowering themselves to leave oppressive structures, and those who believe in the magic of literacy.

How to Say Babylon by Safiya Sinclair is a memoir of a poet who emerges from a strict Rastafarian household in Montego Bay, Jamaica Her father, who tyrannized the family, was a volatile reggae musician who demanded adherence to a militant sect of Rastafarianism. As a child, Sinclair and her siblings survived his strict and abusive treatment by conforming to his demands. Although she was always an outstanding student, she was extremely limited in her interactions with others due to the restrictions her father imposed to keep her away from the corrupting influence of the immoral western world. Her trajectory from being an isolated young woman with dreadlocks to an acclaimed poet is an inspiring story, filled with strife and resilience.

It is hard to rate a memoir, because how do we rate the way that someone tells their own truth? This memoir is gripping and jarring...it recounts a life that feels impossible to have endured. Safiya Sinclair, a noted poet since adolescence, grew up in a strict Rastafarian home in small towns in Jamaica, moving frequently. Her father inculcated in his children that Babylon, the term that he used for the world beyond Rastafarian ideals, was poisonous and to be avoided at all costs. Worse was the fact that although her father demanded absolute adherence to all things Rastafarian, he, himself was an adulterer and overall hypocrite. Further, he was cruel, emotionally abusive, and given to inflicting physical punishment on his children whenever the mood struck. His shortcomings as a man, combined with childhood trauma and what appears to also be mental illness made life with him impossible.

Raised alongside her four younger siblings, Safiya was restricted from all that the world had to offer her. Also subject to her husband's mandate, Safiya's mother, Esther, was also limited in terms of options and personal choice, although she managed to make amazing things happen for her children, including giving Safiya her first book of poetry, where Safiya found her heart and inspiration.

Safiya's story, written in gorgeous and moving prose, is harrowing. The details are many, and there is some repetition in the stories that she tells, or perhaps, it is that the oppressive and inhumane events of her life were so repetitive. Most moving is the fact that Safiya triumphs and becomes the writer that she always longed to. Also, if you do not know a lot about Jamaica and especially about Rastafarian life, this book will enlighten you.

I read Sinclair’s How to Say Babylon almost right after visiting Montego Bay in Jamaica, and reading this powerful memoir afterwards helped me understand a part of Jamaican culture that is sometimes misunderstood—the life of a Rastafarian. While Rastafarianism is often presented as a patriarchal religion, Sinclair’s memoir presents her perspective as a young woman growing up under her father’s ever-changing rules for his family. Although difficult to read at times, Sinclair’s story is powerful and poignant, not only from her experiences growing up Rasta and the kind of discrimination she faced in school but also as a daughter at home, but her story also explores the search for and development of her own voice as a poet. I found this section, especially when she works with a mentor and the almost equally oppressive approach he had on her attempts to find an authentic voice, compelling. Sinclair’s evocative descriptions of the natural beauty of Jamaica are contrasted with the emotional reflections of the oppression and discrimination she faced as a young, Rasta woman in Jamaica. It was surprising to see how tightly controlled her father kept her family, and how he viewed women. Sinclair’s narration of some events from her childhood capture the kind of innocence and naivety that is a part of childhood. Simple pleasures like playing on a beach reserved primarily for tourists also help to show the racial and class discrimination present in Jamaica, which is further exacerbated by access to necessities like school and education. These moments in school, where Sinclair has to navigate new friends and social groups, are also compelling to read and help to highlight the kinds of challenges that Sinclair would face due to her hair and the assumptions that others, including teachers and peers, would make about her. I really enjoyed this memoir and was really inspired by the strength that Sinclair drew from her family, particularly her sisters and mother. Despite the flaws of her father, he is also presented in a humane manner, where I can appreciate his desire to be an artist and yet his concern about the wickedness of Babylon. Yet, I was also disturbed by his distrust of his daughters and the increasing control over them that he exercised. Nevertheless, Sinclair’s mother is the one to whom she turns to when she experiences hardship and trouble, and who encourages her pursuit of writing. Full of both joy and sadness, Sinclair’s How to Say Babylon is a beautifully written and poetic memoir about growing up, trying to navigate different worlds, and eventually finding one’s own voice through these struggles.