[Musical intro] 

Ayana Young  Hey For The Wild community. Ayana here, welcome to the fourth episode of our new book study series, Earthly Reads, where we'll learn alongside some of our most beloved authors. After listening to this shorter conversation, head over to forthewild.world/bookstudy to learn more and to purchase access to the full course. We'll be offering significantly more content and access to live recorded conversations with the authors on our website. We hope to see you there.

Céline Semaan  We're not really witnessing one another as human beings. There is a dehumanization that is allowed, that is permitted, where I am no longer a human when that is convenient. There needs to be a space to build intimacy between one another at the level where we are leveling up on political education, so that we are able to see eye to eye. You know.

Ayana Young  Hello and welcome to For The Wild Podcast. I'm Ayana Young. Today we are speaking with Céline Semaan. Oh, Céline, I am so excited that we're getting to share some really good quality time together today. And yeah, thanks so much for being with us.

Céline Semaan  Thank you so much, Ayana, for having me.

Ayana Young  Today, I feel really excited to focus in on your new book, which I really loved, called A Woman is a School. And, I'm so glad to have the chance to slowly delve into this with you. So maybe as we start, I want to give you a bit of space to talk about how the book is sitting with you as the creator, creatrix, and what types of conversations you hope it prompts.

Céline Semaan  The conversation that I hope this book prompts are questions about how folks that didn't know of our existence in the Middle East or in Lebanon or in Palestine, Syria, the Levant, have been, for instance, feeding their image of us from mainstream cinema or mainstream media, and how much that has impacted the ways in which we are being dehumanized. The nuances of our stories, the nuances of our lived experience, require for people to open themselves up to us. Like, I always write a note in the beginning of the book when people ask me to sign it. I always write, "Thank you for opening up yourself to me." Like this really is what the hope of this book is about, is really an openness to our part of the world, to our stories, to seeing us as human, and to also understanding that we come in multitude and complexities and we're not in a monolith of our own selves. 

What I hope it sparks is this curiosity, this openness to the other part of the world that is not in the dominant media and is not seen or heard. Or, you know, even the language in which I wrote the book, in English is my third language, as you can hear in my accent clearly. But that effort is my part of reaching out and I'm hoping that folks who are reading it are able to reach out back to us.

Ayana Young  HmmmMmm. Yeah, thank you for that. And I really love the word 'curiosity' right now. I think when we can remember to be curious, the world does open and there's a type of relating to one another that changes so drastically when our curiosity is open, yeah, and at the surface and we want to learn about each other. When I'm thinking to your book, of course, the text is beautiful, but also the creativity and the publishing, you know, just the art of the book, I think also sparks a lot of curiosity and desire to learn more. I just want to appreciate the art and the photos in the book, a bit. I'm interested to hear about the design strategy for the book itself and how that part came to you.

Céline Semaan  For those of you who don't know what it is, I'll describe it. So the image description is...It's a small book. It's an unusually small book, I would say, compared to the sizes of books are these days. It's a soft cover. It's more traditionally closer to folio books or Penguin Books of the 90s or the 80s where books, basically, were the size of your hand, and it says A Woman is a School. And, the illustration is a line drawing of a person with a mouth open and each one of her teeth are buildings in Lebanon. So there's a church, a mosque, and then some other buildings, and they constitute her teeth. And I drew this sketch as I was writing the book and I sent it to at the time my publisher, who's no longer my publisher, and she loved it, and she was like, "Oh, wow, this could be potentially the cover. "And I said, that's exactly what I have in mind. I see it as the cover where her mouth — when she opens her mouth — it's each building of a city and through her mouth, we enter the city. And, we enter the city through storytelling, and we enter them, the country and the culture through the mouth of this person that's telling us the stories. 

And it signifies and symbolizes the tradition of our culture and my culture, as a Lebanese person, the tradition of the hakawatiyah or the hakawati. And hakawati means ‘storyteller’ and hakawatiyah means ‘storyteller for women.’ And, it's not just typical of Lebanon. It's really of the region of the Levant for Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and that area of the world where, traditionally, storytellers would be the ones that are holding the wisdom, holding the history, holding the culture and the knowledge, and they serve as oracles, almost, in a society. And, people with problems would go to these storytellers, the hakawatis or the hakawatiyah, and they would tell them their problems and the storytellers will tell them a whole story unrelated to their problems, but that somehow contain this wisdom and this quality of knowledge that is needed at this very moment in time. And, that's what the hakawatis are, the storytellers. So that's what this cover means — the cover of the book and the book.

Ayana Young  Thank you for that. I really appreciated that bit of storytelling. And just for you and the listeners to know if my sound sounds a little different, I walked outside because it's sprinkling in this delightful way and it's really chilly. And, I loved hearing you tell this story as I went out into this wet, wintery portal.

Céline Semaan  Wow!

Ayana Young  Yeah, so I just...I felt like I just walked into a whole other space while I heard you tell that description and I'm intrigued. There's something to what you just spoke to that ignited that glimmer inside of me. Maybe you feel similarly. I'm not sure. 

Céline Semaan  Yeah, I mean, in the book, I talk about the supernatural. You know, I talk about being raised by people of a very strong faith, you know, and the people of faith don't see the supernatural as something that's bizarre or strange. They see it as the norm. This is the norm for them, the supernatural and our lived experience as humans is the norm, and it basically doesn't have that much importance. It's the supernatural that is the main focus. And, it's, essentially, being able to witness something greater than ourselves on a regular basis. When you're surrounded by people of faith, that's ultimately how they perceive the world and see the world and teach you the world. And folks that have grown up around in Lebanon, whether it's my elders or, you know, some of my teachers, they've been very clear in explaining to me this connection with the supernatural. But you're talking about this glimmer or this feeling of magic, I would say. But it's not magic as in a hat and a bunny and, you know, a deck of cards. It's not that magic. It's something that makes you feel connected to something beyond yourself. And, that sort of relationship with each other and with the world, with nature, is what I'm trying to write about in this book. 

It's also very much grounded in the culture of the people of the Levant or the people in Lebanon that I speak about and how we were raised. So this book is definitely talking about how we were raised in that part of the world and offers a window through the mouth of this woman, who's telling the stories about how we are raised far, far away in this world that, honestly, is not centered and is constantly under so much trauma and so much insecurity and so much violence for the comfort of the Global North — this sacrificial land, essentially, that we come from, and that holds so much wisdom. You know, it's one of the oldest parts of the world, where there were continuous living beings for 10,000 years — a city that existed 10,000 years ago and that still exists today, for instance, like the trees in Lebanon, whether they're cedar trees or olive trees. The minimum age of a cedar tree is 3000 years, you know. And that's like the minimum, like the average — average years. 

And similarly, for the olive tree, as some of you may know, is that they live up to 4000 years, 5000 years. Like, they live a very long time. They witness so much. They are connected to us, you know. And so that's what I'm trying to talk about in this book is how we were raised, the culture in that part of the world, our stories, our connection to nature, our connection to each other, our connection to our elders, as well as our connection to the GlobalNorth. 

So it's a bit of a decentralizing way of looking at things, where we're used to looking at them from up here in the Global North, where I am displaced at the moment. And then, looking down or looking sideways to other people because the center is the global north. And so, this book offers this sort of new perspective or different perspective or at least, if I may say, a way to disorient ourselves or the reader. 

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Ayana Young  This book gives a really deep insight into what life in Lebanon and in exile from Lebanon was like for you as a child. And there's a quote where you say, "We were forced to leave our home. We were betrayed by our own people who had turned against each other in a quest to dominate and appeal to international forces putting our country in a choke hold. Our safety was at risk. We left our homeland to open a new road of possibilities for ourselves and, consequently, for many other Lebanese families who would use our place as a home on their way to citizenship in Canada. My father opened the roads that led us to the belly of the beast, the Global North, the West, the so-called civilized world," end quote. How does it feel to be sharing this story now?

Céline Semaan  You know, as I was writing it, it felt both great and awful at different times because sometimes it would feel liberating and sometimes it would feel excruciating to be even writing this down and to share so much about my life. Things that I thought I had dealt with but then in it, as I was writing them, they broke me again, you know? Now that the book is done, when I got the galleys and I read it in the plane going to Lebanon just before the latest invasion that we've witnessed and reading it cover to cover in the plane as I landed in Lebanon, something really shifted in me — that felt like, Oh, wow. I understood myself for a second, you know. And all of these aches and pains that I felt somewhat had their moment in this book, you know, and I was able to heal for a second. Not that it lasted very long, sadly, but it was a great moment of healing, of release, of exhale that I felt after reading this book in the plane, cover to cover, on my way to Lebanon. And on my way back, reading the edits and knowing that this book is going to be going into print, this sense of completion. I did it, you know. I was able to put into words a very intense lived experience throughout my life. So that's a little bit how I felt.

Ayana Young  HmmMmmm. I wonder how you're reckoning with questions of exile and the dynamics the Global North plays into conflict like this.

Céline Semaan  I don't know. You know? I mean, I feel like, right now, my parents are being displaced. My family members are being displaced. It's hard to reconcile and to understand what that means. We live in a lot of pain, not just for ourselves, but for our siblings, for our you know, our people — the people of Syria, the people of Palestine, you know, and also the people of Sudan, the people of Congo. There is a solidarity with each other that is ultimately, like, we can't deny it, and we can't, you know, do anything about it at the same time. I don't have any answer really about that.

Ayana Young  Yeah, I can see how there really is no answer. I really see how this book is both so personal to your life and also so deeply informed by the global consciousness and struggle. And there's another quote saying, "As I'm writing these words, at the end of 2023 genocide is occurring in Gaza. The war looms over Lebanon. Living in a perpetual climate of uncertainty has imprinted my worldview, my life, and the decisions I have made in both my career and personal life. We grew up being wary of whatever consensus the mainstream media adopted and how we were portrayed. From a very young age, I understood the value of being surrounded by a trustworthy community, especially in the midst of the tragedy," end quote. So how are you centering community and survival in these times?

Céline Semaan  You know, for us at Slow Factory, we are a community first and foremost, and then, since the past, I would say, the past year, we've created spaces offline for community. I know we are very big online, but we do a lot of work offline as well, and we try our best to balance the two. In fact, so much so that now we have felt a tip of balance between what's happening online and what's happening offline, and we are about to take a moment offline to really recenter ourselves. It's been extremely traumatizing to experience this, but of course, we know it's much, much worse to live it. 

And the people who are expats, who are displaced, who are refugees, who are aren't aren't able to go back home and happen to be in the Global North, we have created space for that community through something called The Liberation Lunches that we host, which are long Sunday afternoon lunches, very much designed after the Lebanese lunches, where we eat lunch for a very long time. There's music and we talk and we just, you know, unwind together and so we spend time together in the sacred space of sharing lunch.

We also have created space to watch films together, so screenings of Palestinian films, of Lebanese films, of Syrian films, of films that aren't, you know, accessible necessarily in the mainstream. We've also spent time reading through book clubs offline reading together, discussing books, meaningful books together. This summer, we had the opportunity to also convene in nature and to create, like a sort of retreat for our team and our extended team. So not just the team that works daily on Slow Factory, but the people that are part of our community fellows, artists that we work with. And to providing them two days of total release in nature — so through healing modalities from Reiki to breathwork, to walking in the forest, and planting and swimming and like being in nature in this way that's so privileged that...We need it, really, to be able to continue doing this work from a place of of love. It's very, very important.

Ayana Young  Yeah, I love the idea of the lunches and coming together. I'm like, Oh, I want to! Can I join?

Céline Semaan  Yes!

Ayana Young  I really appreciate it and noticing how much I need to be with people and to eat and to laugh and to dance and to talk and to cry and just be human together.

Céline Semaan  Yeah.

Ayana Young  Gosh, I'm wondering about this idea of the feminine and unwritten knowledge, and it's so clear in your work how colonization and power differentials come to pit those being harmed against each other when there's like horizontal hostility and there's infighting. And there's this quote that I want to read from your book. "Often it is women who are the first to impose oppressive structures on other women as they attempt to control their own and other women's bodies and minds. It is often women who dictate what is allowed for a woman to do and what isn't — a reflection of the oppression that we have been forced upon them. When we choose to heal ourselves first, especially our relationship to power and control, we can break down the stone mountain of shame that resides in all of us, allowing for intergenerational healing," end quote. This theme, this quote, these ideas — there's so much here that I don't even really know what the question is. I think this is a tender topic that many of us feel, but don't often know how to speak to.

Céline Semaan  Yes, especially when they believe the same thing because if you are someone who is doing something and challenging things, and you are not doing exactly what other people want you to do, there is a condition to their support and because we live in this place of conditionality and transactional friendships and transactional love...Again, I talk about it in one of my chapters about radical generosity. There's this transaction. Ah, I'm gonna support you, if you support me. I'm gonna work for your cause, if you work for mine. I'll be in solidarity with you, if you're in solidarity with me, right? It doesn't work like that. It doesn't work like that. This isn't something that we would be working through conditions, and If you don't do what I say, I'm going to destroy you online, offline, whatever. I'm going to make sure people hate you, you know. And that has happened to me and has happened to me again and again and again. The first times were very, very painful because it felt as though, you know, I was being utterly betrayed by peers, you know. And that betrayal was very painful, very, very painful. I never thought that people who believe in the same ideas of liberation would hurt each other that way — would purposefully want to take each other down in that way. 

People who are preaching liberation want to, basically, tear down a woman who is basically coming in this country as a refugee. Like, I couldn't compute in my head. I didn't understand it. I couldn't understand the vitriol and the hatred, that some people who are talking about liberation would be embodying the complete opposite. It was very foreign to me. I couldn't quite understand and, of course, the pain of feeling betrayed was actually enlightening because what I realized is that ultimately, when we are in these types of relationships that are based on conditions. Somehow, somewhere, in there we've betrayed our own selves to enable these types of conditions upon us and upon each other. Are we living in a place where I'll do this to you, if you did this to me. I scratch your back, if you scratch mine. Or are we in a place where it's safe? And going back to what we were talking earlier, that we have faith in one another, that we have grace for one another. Now, doesn't that feel a little bit more like liberation or a little bit more aligned with these values that we preach?

And again, this punitive energy that is either online or offline with peers or what you said, like this sort of a take down, tear down, backstabbing energy in some of our spaces only benefits the people at the very top as you saw after, you know, Trump won the elections just recently. Him and Biden met at the White House shook hands and discussed because ultimately, what? They're on the same side. They're on the same side, and we are not and we must learn solidarity. We must learn grace. We must learn intimacy between one another where we're not blocking someone because they just simply don't do exactly what we ask them to do. That has happened to me recently, even. I feel like conflict resolution — these are skills that are needed in our society to be able to address the hurt without punching back, you know. And the skill, honestly, the skill you said I am strong, but honestly, I am the softest. I am the softest. I am not strong. I am the mushiest person because that's the skill — is to stay soft in this fight. Is to stay open, to remain in faith, to have faith, even though everything points against that direction. 

It's true that this work is ruthless. It's ruthless. Yesterday, I was at a talk at Columbia University, and someone there said that it's easy to get mad at people with no structural power, like us. It's easy to punch and to use either me or Slow Factory as a punching bag because I have no structural power. And we have become these punching bags because we're not in real relationship with one another. We're not really witnessing one another as human beings. There is a dehumanization that is allowed, that is permitted where I am no longer a human when that is convenient. There needs to be a space to build intimacy between one another at the level where we are leveling up on political education, so that we are able to see eye to eye. You know.

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Jackson Kroopf  Thank you for listening to the fourth episode of For The Wild, slow study series Earthly Reads. Céline Semaan. This was the first 30 minutes of an over hour long conversation between Ayana and Céline. To hear the full episode join our book study where we will gather with authors like Céline, as well as adrienne maree brown, Tricia Hersey, Prentis Hemphill, Alexis Pauline Gumbs, and Marcia Bjornerud for an even deeper dive into their recent writings. To learn more, please visit forthewildworld/bookstudy, or join us on Patreon.

The music for this series is from the compilation Staying: Leaving Records Aid to Artists Impacted by the Los Angeles Wildfires. The musicians featured in this episode are More Eaze, Ohma, Cole Pulice, and Maylee Todd.

For The Wild is made by Ayana Young, Erica Ekrem, Julia Jackson, Jackson Kroopf, Kailea Loften, and Zandashé Brown. Thanks for listening. 

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Credits

Earthly Reads Book Study, I

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