Amanda Jeysing Reviews Hana Shafi’s Small, Broke, and Kind of Dirty
Hana Shafi, Small, Broke, and Kind of Dirty: Affirmations for the Real World. Book*hug Press. $25.00 CDN, 180 pp., ISBN 9781771666091
Small, Broke and Kind of Dirty: Affirmations for the Real World is a hybrid storytelling cross between visual art and writing told through the raw voice of writer and artist Hana Shafi that makes no apologies for its intersectional and accessible exploration of feminisms, body politics, racism, self-love and mental health.
An amalgamation of deeply touching and relatable personal stories built around art from Shafi’s popular online affirmation series, this book stands out on a shelf not only for its intentional weaving of lived experiences and art, but also for its humorous and unrestrained approach to a vast array of highly complex issues.
Shafi’s introduction makes it clear what this book is not from the get-go: a self-help book, a collection of advice columns, a sunshine-and-rainbows approach to life, an assortment of trauma porn stories for mass consumption. “What I am is a storyteller. I tell stories – in words and in art – that make people feel less alone, that affirm people as they are, and that maybe get them riled up about the big-picture stuff that really matters in the world.” The book is divided into five main sections, “On Kindness”, “On Bodies”, “On Politics”, “On Self-Love and Healing” and “On Resilience and Mental Health,” each one stringing together sweet yet defiant affirmations rooted in uninhibited humanness and self-compassion.
“Your vulnerability is a radical gift” is the affirmation that introduces the chapters on kindness with a visceral visual piece representing a naked human being wrapped up in a floral pink blanket, body hair and all. Shafi invites us into a world, unlike the one we live in, where expressions of vulnerability are perceived as moments of strength. She frames it as a net that catches all the “yuck” that does not align with us, allowing the good things that matter to flow into our human experience.
Shafi openly discusses body politics and affirms those who do not fit into Eurocentric or fatphobic beauty standards in saying, “Your body is so much more than the clothes that don’t fit it.” Her personal stories of paralleled fluctuating weight and self-esteem are relatable and allow her to rewrite and decolonize narratives of body acceptance and confidence: “it wasn’t that I failed my body; it was that society failed me by making me think I was unworthy for not looking like a barely pubescent sixteen-year-old.” In the same breath, Shafi tackles a nuanced conversation of chronic illness under patriarchal capitalism from a compassionate place of knowing with the affirmation, “My chronic illness doesn’t make me difficult to love.”
When addressing socio-political issues like gender equity and anti-fascism, Shafi doesn’t shy away from using humour to make her point. She expresses hope for a future in which it is normalized allyship for two cishet men to hold each other accountable in private and in public: “And then they both high-five and release a saucy nude calendar where all the proceeds go to a women’s shelter. One day…one day.” It’s important to note that Shafi does not address these issues as divorced from other aspects of her identities; in fact, the further into this book you read, the more intersectional and intentional you realize it is. And not because of any performative incentive, but because it’s authentic to Shafi’s lived experiences – inevitable storytelling, if you will. She projects an imagined future as an extension of her evolution and artistry that is rooted in a sense of doing: “Fascism thrives on our apathy, hopelessness, and isolation. Imagine if we had hope and were radically empathetic...And then take a moment to realize that we don’t have to imagine any of this.”
Like many others in this book, “You can wear whatever you want” is an affirmation accompanied by decolonial art that follows a story told from Shafi’s nuanced lived experiences, this one tied to her identities as a non-visible Muslim woman and a secular spiritualist. “Like anyone else, I want to exist in my own weird style – which swings chaotically between wanting to fulfill my goth princess fantasies and wanting to look like a curator of an art gallery.” Shafi owns herself wholly despite the structural forces working against her intersecting identities.
The chapter on self-love and healing reminds and affirms our authenticity with “Healing is not linear” and “Trauma doesn’t make you damaged goods. There’s no such thing. You are a person, not a commodity.” It is in this chapter where Shafi’s stories reflect the book title: “I am not an ugly duckling or a beautiful swan. I am a small, kind of dirty opossum with weird laser eyes that hisses at the odd passerby.” Stories of being a sore thumb in a dominantly white culture echo relatable truths for many immigrants in North America, while offering a hopeful perspective that our differences are our superpowers.
Small, Broke and Kind of Dirty: Affirmations for the Real World exposes the notion that multiple truths can exist simultaneously as a reflection of our multifaceted humanity. Shafi’s loving affirmations alongside her storytelling and visual art make for the perfect rainy day read with a cup of chai.
Originally from Malaysia, Amanda Jeysing is a storyteller and freelance writer now based in Ottawa who uses the mediums of writing and dance to share her contributions to decolonial expressions of freedom. Her food writing has been published on Spoon University and she was a finalist for the Fraser MacDougall Prize in 2018 for Best Canadian Voice in Human Rights Reporting on behalf of The Charlatan. Follow her on Instagram @foodventureswithpanda.