Deya states this many times throughout the story, most clearly near the end as she muses: “And then I thought of Sarah, in the city somewhere, alive, free to spend her days in a bookstore. Surrounded by books. I squeezed the card between my fingers, my heart thumping furiously beneath my thick navy uniform. Isn’t that the kind of life my sisters and I deserve? The kind of life any girl deserves? A life of possibility? We would never be able to surround ourselves with books in our grandmother’s house. Or in the house of some man. We would never, not in a million versions of our lives, be able to do anything besides cook, clean, and cater to the orders of a husband.” Why does Deya act this way? For one, she was born and raised in the United States surrounded by a different cultural worldview than Afeera grew up with, giving her even more reason to question her family’s ways. The novel relates how far her family went to enforce their own views when they took Deya out of school for a little while because they thought it would have a negative influence on her. Isra explained to young Deya, “‘Sharmouta!’ she began. I swallowed, took a step back. ‘You know you’re not allowed to speak to boys.’ Her voice lowered to a tight whisper. ‘You’re not an American, Deya. You’re an Arab. Do you understand me? An Arab girl.’ I stood amid the wild raindrops, frozen to the concrete, not understanding a thing. What did she mean by Arab girl? ‘Listen to me and listen well.’ Her voice dwindled beneath the rain. ‘Just because you were born here, doesn’t make you an American. As long as you live in this family, you’ll never be an American.’ ” Deya was told from a young age that she was supposed to conduct herself the way her family demanded her to. “Not only was I not an American, but I could barely count myself as a person, feeling as small as I did
Deya states this many times throughout the story, most clearly near the end as she muses: “And then I thought of Sarah, in the city somewhere, alive, free to spend her days in a bookstore. Surrounded by books. I squeezed the card between my fingers, my heart thumping furiously beneath my thick navy uniform. Isn’t that the kind of life my sisters and I deserve? The kind of life any girl deserves? A life of possibility? We would never be able to surround ourselves with books in our grandmother’s house. Or in the house of some man. We would never, not in a million versions of our lives, be able to do anything besides cook, clean, and cater to the orders of a husband.” Why does Deya act this way? For one, she was born and raised in the United States surrounded by a different cultural worldview than Afeera grew up with, giving her even more reason to question her family’s ways. The novel relates how far her family went to enforce their own views when they took Deya out of school for a little while because they thought it would have a negative influence on her. Isra explained to young Deya, “‘Sharmouta!’ she began. I swallowed, took a step back. ‘You know you’re not allowed to speak to boys.’ Her voice lowered to a tight whisper. ‘You’re not an American, Deya. You’re an Arab. Do you understand me? An Arab girl.’ I stood amid the wild raindrops, frozen to the concrete, not understanding a thing. What did she mean by Arab girl? ‘Listen to me and listen well.’ Her voice dwindled beneath the rain. ‘Just because you were born here, doesn’t make you an American. As long as you live in this family, you’ll never be an American.’ ” Deya was told from a young age that she was supposed to conduct herself the way her family demanded her to. “Not only was I not an American, but I could barely count myself as a person, feeling as small as I did