Crossing borders: the extent to which the voices of exiled and refugee women have adapted to their new Western diasporic space.

Abstract

In this article I will consider the extent to which the voices of exiled and refugee women have adapted to their new Western diasporic space. I will examine whether women writers consider exile to be a safe place in which to describe the horrific experiences of gender specific persecution and of being a victim of violence in conflict or whether taboos restrict the women's voice. Is exile providing a cathartic space to write openly? Do the exiled writers as reflected in their literary work, relate to their British physical space and interact with British people and society? What is the situation in exile in the case where women functioned as strong collective groupings in their countries and created and developed their own oral literature through these collective groupings?

Key words: Refugee women, literature, exile

Introduction

For some women, border crossings are more than metaphor. This article will consider the extent to which formerly repressed voices of exiled and refugee women have adapted to their new Western diasporic space. I will examine whether women writers consider exile to be a safe place in which to describe the horrific experiences of gender specific persecution and of being a victim of violence in conflict or whether taboos restrict the woman's voice. Is exile providing a cathartic space to write openly? Do the exiled writers as reflected in their literary work, relate to their British physical space and interact with British people and society? The issues raised here stem from my work in researching and editing my book Crossing the Border: Voices of Refugee and Exiled Women Writers (Langer, 2002) and from my work as director of 'Exiled Writers' Ink!' Crossing the Border is a collection of literature by women refugee and exiled writers from Somalia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Afghanistan, Algeria, Iran, Iraq, Kurdistan, Bosnia, Turkey and Kosova.Does exile represent rebirth for exiled women writers?

 
   Mahnaz Afkhami in 'Women in Exile' makes the point that: 
 
   Along with the loss of their culture and home comes the loss of 
   the traditional patriarchal structures that limited their lives 
   in their own land. Exile in its disruptiveness resembles a 
   rebirth for the woman. The pain of breaking out of a cultural 
   cocoon brings with it the possibility of an expanded universe 
   and a freer, more independent self (Afkhami, 1994, p.45) 

However, I think this is quite idealistic and is certainly a long process. One wonders how this can be reconciled with the feelings of isolation and absence of roots articulated by so many of the women writers who have also articulated feelings of conflict between their traditionally accepted role of the disempowerment of the female voice and the freedom to express themselves in the West. In exile, there is to a certain extent a reproduction of social relations for women writers in terms of gender and power. At regular gatherings of exiled writers in London, for example, some of the women writers told me they were concerned about reading their work because of the men present from their communities and the strong honour and shame ethic. Social taboos are still very strong leading to a process of self-censorship by women and censorship by the family. It seems that traditional gender power structures within cultures are maintained, so women remain within the social, cultural and religious codes to maintain the given boundaries. In addition, women often feel frustrated, isolated and terrified in an alien culture without comfort from their immediate family with their experiences in exile often being marginalized because they are generally inarticulate in the public domain, reflecting the history, culture and traditions of the female voice and its disempowerment in the male dominated society. Women writers are still fearful of Crossing the Border. Many of the writers have proclaimed with emotion: Our voice is not heard, our voice is silenced, we haven't got a voice.

A Somali poet, Anab Sheikh Abdi, told me that she dreamed of one day returning to the fertile Juba River Valley and meanwhile found it hard to function in Britain. Feelings of disjointedness, of feeling neither here nor …