Woof, this book was a lot, in the best possible way. I don't usually read a lot of nonfiction, but a really good memoir is an exception, and this is a really, really good memoir. Sinclair's story is about being raised in a strict, patriarchal household, and although the specifics of having a Rastafari father and upbringing may not resonate with everyone (and certainly one hopes the violence and abuse Sinclair, her siblings, her mother experienced is not everyone's experience), the themes are universal. Societies putting different expectations and restrictions on girls and boys, sexualizing girls at a young age, policing their bodies and beings, and blaming them for any sexual violence men inflict upon them. Patriarchs of a family expecting their wives and daughters to be both wives and daughters: having no needs at all, never criticizing or demanding respect from the "man of the household," and their lives revolving around satisfying the man. Chafing at the strictures of the life and world you are raised in and trying to escape with any means possible. A family attempting to heal horrible, devastating ruptures in their very fabric and laying the groundwork for healthier families in the future. Sinclair captures all of this absolutely breathtakingly, with immense compassion for her younger self (and with more compassion than I could ever muster in her situation for her father) and a voice that is so grounded and evocative. Despite this book being heavy at times, I was glued to it and couldn't stop reading. There is something hopeful about this story: Sinclair and her family do eventually break free of their traumatic upbringing, and they strive to do better for future generations. This is a beautiful, unflinching, triumphant story, and I highly recommend it to everyone. 

I didn't know Safiya Sinclair was a poet when I started reading this book, but by the time I'd finished the first page, I could tell she had a phenomenal way with words. And indeed, this is a breathtakingly evocative book that transported me to the Jamaica she grew up in in the '80s and '90s. I learned so much about Rastafarianism and Jamaican culture, and I felt the author's despair, loneliness, and glimmers of hope as she suffered through an authoritarian, abusive upbringing. More specifically, I found myself shuddering and having to put the book down when an injury was described, and, later, my eyes filled with tears during an emotional moment.

It took me a couple chapters to get my bearings, but once young Safiya took center stage, I was in. For the most part, she did a great job crafting beautiful prose while staying grounded in the story of her life, but toward the end, I found it harder to connect with what was she was experiencing. I don't know if it was because of the pace picking up too much and virtually skipping whole years and pivotal experiences (I would've liked to know, for example, more about her modeling journey that seemed to come out of nowhere, and her college years), or there being more of an emphasis on her feelings than on the experiences that prompted those feelings, but, for me at least, the narrative seemed to lose its footing a little as she neared the end of her teens, and beyond. I wonder if the author struggled to know where or how to end the book, and that's why I felt some of this disconnect?

Also, the way the author foreshadowed future dire events, namely her father's increasing rigidity and abusive behavior, made me expect worse than what ended up happening. That feels weird to say, because her experiences were unquestionably terrible and her father's actions unconscionable — and I'm obviously glad they weren't worse than they were. I guess I've just read a lot of stories of very bad men, though, and so I was surprised that the man bent on isolating his children from the outside world didn't put up more resistance to certain "worldly" pursuits, and seemed more persuadable than I expected for someone who had seemed to epitomize all that was tyrannical and uncompromising.

Still, a powerful book from start to finish, and one that I won't hesitate to recommend to anyone.

This is a stunning book but probably the most emotionally challenging thing I've read all year. I probably wouldn't have listened to it if I'd known how harrowing it was. I personally related to some of it, though not on such a severe or scary level. Maybe that's why it was so hard to listen to at times. I nearly deleted the audiobook when it got to the bit about the old poet. I'm glad I didn't, though, because it was lovely to hear how the author managed to turn her difficult childhood and experiences of trauma into success and a beautiful novel. You could also tell that she has a very warm heart and is keen for others to succeed where she struggled. 
 There were a lot of very accurate observations here. One that broke my heart especially was Safiya Sinclair expecting her father to be protective of her in the face of other abusive men because he was so strict and fierce, and being let down because he preferred to side with the comfort of the patriarchy over his own family. 
 Also the depiction of men getting exploited and bullied at work and coming home and enacting the same on the family was so sad, especially we see it through the child Safiya's eyes.
 I learned a lot about Rastafarianism and also why this movement was necessary - Sinclair's depiction of her move to the USA and the racism she faced leading to her understanding of the same was so eye-opening. 
 Equally shocking (to me, a naive person with not much knowledge of the Caribbean) was the clear description of how colonialism is alive and well in Jamaica through the tourism industry. 
 I will be looking to read Sinclair's poetry because her writing style is absolutely gorgeous! 

Beautifully written, if a bit long-winded at times. I was really taken aback by how similar stories of abuse are, even though the circumstances vary from person to person. I connected it with my own life a lot, and I saw the resemblance to similar memoirs such as Educated. 

I also appreciated that Safiya Sinclair included information about Rastafari and Jamaican history, so we would have proper context as we read.

Safiya is clearly an incredible writer, and she does a wonderful job weaving together the complex emotions that come from experiencing abuse. On top of that, the complexity is deepened even further by the generational trauma of colonization and poverty. I found it to be a very well-rounded memoir with a great balance of personal experience and historical research.

This memoir is a stunningly poetic, deeply personal story of a girl growing under an abusive, controlling Rastafarian father. Themes within her life are painfully relatable to my own experience in a high control religion. Themes of sexism, hating your growing feminine body, and the pressure of perfection under the angry gaze of a religious patriarch… I found this book to be both triggering, and incredibly healing. I also realized how woefully ignorant I am of the history of Rastafari, and appreciated how the author wrote about it with both forgiveness, and deep hurt. A masterpiece of a memoir.