How To Free A Jinn by Raidah Shah Idil
How To Free A Jinn is Raidah Shah Idil’s middle fiction fantasy debut. It is published by Allen & Unwin.
How To Free A Jinn, A Love Letter: Guest Author post by Raidah Shah Idil
When I first migrated from Singapore to Sydney, it was a tough transition. So many things were changing, from my own body to the trajectory of my life. From being one of the few Malay kids in a predominantly Chinese classroom, I was now the only Malay kid in a predominantly Arab classroom. Once again, I was the oddity, but this time, it felt a lot more fraught. I was navigating a whole new high school in an entirely new country, and I was already so different to begin with. I struggled with eye contact, small talk and honestly thought this Australian obsession with cricket had to do with a nation-wide special interest in…insects? Clearly, I missed that memo.
With the ever-shifting quicksand of high school, I needed an anchor I could hold on to. Books made more sense to me than people, so I sought refuge in my high school library. That, at least, was familiar. I still remember the awe I felt when reading Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce. In fantasy novels, 12-year-old girls like me could do incredible things. Still, none of them looked like me. It was easy to find elves, unicorns and mermaids, but impossible to find a 12-year-old Malay Muslim girl, let alone one who wears hijab.
It didn’t even occur to me while I read fantasy book after fantasy book, that one day, I could write my own.
After writing many, many unfinished manuscripts (and copious amounts of fanfic!), getting married, moving to Malaysia, raising two little girls while pregnant with my third baby, I decided that it was time. It was time for me to lean into everything that once made me feel different and small. It was time to embrace myself for exactly who I was – neurodivergent, Malay, and Muslim. I wrote How To Free A Jinn as a love letter to the younger me, and an homage to my faith and my family.
I couldn’t have written it without having lived for a decade in Malaysia, my ancestral home.
Living in Malaysia was incredibly healing for my anxious 12-year-old inner child. In Malaysia, it is finally safe for me to take up space as a visibly Muslim Malay woman. I can wear my hijab safely and take my kids out to the playground and know that they are safe too. For the first time in my life, I live in a society which is designed for me. I can hear the adhan, the call for prayer, from the nearby masjid (mosque). There are suraus (prayer rooms) in every possible location, from petrol stations to malls, making it so much easier for me to perform my daily prayers when I’m out and about. Finding halal food which is healthy, tasty and affordable is so easy.
I didn’t realise it while I was living in Sydney, but for so long, I was living under siege as a visible minority. In the West, I lived within the crosshairs of this fatal trifecta – misogyny, anti-Asian sentiment and Islamophobia.
In Malaysia, I am just Raidah; a tired mother of three beautiful children, a writer, avid tea-lover. Here, I can be fully and imperfectly human. I don’t have to keep smiling when there is yet another microaggression at the office I work at. I don’t have to thank the racist Professor for complimenting me on my very good English. I don’t have to live in fear of the next terrorist act and the fallout on hijabis like me and my mother.
Here, I am safe to craft a fantasy novel where Insyirah (pronounced In-she-rah) my unapologetically Muslim character, goes on exciting adventures and has permission to be joyful, angry, disappointed or curious. I wrote a book where the conflict wasn’t Insyirah’s faith or family. Instead, she draws strength from both, just as I draw strength from mine.
I have two hopes for my book, now that it’s out in the world. I hope that it finds its way into the hands of a lonely and misunderstood Muslim child and bring some hope and comfort.
I also hope that my book will plant a seed of curiosity and compassion in heart of a child who is different to me and Insyirah. I hope that the next generation of Australians will grow up reading stories about Muslims that are written by actual Muslims who celebrate our faith and our families.
We have so much more in common than we think. I look forward to a future where we can all dismantle systems of oppression, and uplift marginalized voices.
We’ve always had a voice. We can tell our own stories. It’s time.
Thanks for writing this honest, thought-provoking piece Raidah and all the best with How to Free a Jinn.
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