In Every Mirror She's Black

by Lolá Ákínmádé Åkerström

  Lilla snigel akta dig…annars tar jag dig.

  Little snail, be careful… Otherwise, I’ll get you.

  And at that moment, Brittany knew Johan von Lundin was never going to let her go.

  MUNA

  “I bet you’re fuckable under that bedsheet!”

  Those words, delivered in Swedish, were carried on the drunken waft from a stranger’s lips. They floated from behind Muna as a whisper, albeit a loud one, into her ear. The man’s foul words were followed by a strange hand grabbing her butt and giving it a hard squeeze.

  This was why she hadn’t wanted the night shift from the very start.

  It was past midnight, and Muna stood at a bus station opposite a vibrant hotel emitting loud, booming music with some sort of Christmas party going on inside.

  Earlier that Friday, she had popped into Kungshallen to grab her keycard from Yagiz. He had pored over her face, sensing something was deeply wrong with her. He’d asked her if she was okay before handing her a brown paper bag holding a complimentary doner kebab dinner he’d wrapped himself for her. Muna had simply stared blankly back at him. Working that late shift was going to take her mind off what she’d witnessed that morning. Gunhild’s eyes glazed over and hanging wide open. Her thin mouth cocked into a small smile. A sad woman who was finally happy. Her substitute mother who had left her all alone. Another member of her family gone.

  She spun around to face the offender—­the kind of man who would never offer her his seat on the train while sober. He was young. Early twenties maybe. He was wearing a well-­fitted, lean-­cut jacket with hidden seams that suggested it wasn’t cheap. He sported skinny jeans over sleek, black boots. His blond hair was gelled back under layers of grease, and his blue eyes were laughing at her, pupils doubled from intoxication. Typical upper-class stekare—­brat—­from Östermalm, she deduced. The wealthy part of town.

  He wasn’t alone. Cackling beside him was an identically dressed man, except this replica had darker hair.

  “So, are you, uhn?” he taunted her in Swedish, trying to grab at her again. “Are you hooot under that?”

  She slapped him before he could follow those words with another laugh. She kept slapping him again and again as he struggled to peel her off him, while his friend tugged at her jilbab to yank her away. They both succeeded in pulling her from him. Her original oppressor swaggered on his feet, swaying from side to side.

  “Jävla idiot!” he cursed at her, spittle flying before screaming at her to go the hell back to where she came from.

  Back to where she came from. Those words developed prehistoric claws. They slashed her skin, ripping flesh, spilling blood, reaching bone. She had already been to hell.

  As he stood shouting, arms flailing and failing to balance him, all Muna saw was his mouth moving, no more recognizable words following. Her hands flew at his chest with the strength and confidence of a woman on a mission. She was tired of feeling helpless every day. She thudded him with such brutal force, it caught him off guard because beer had turned his arms into jelly.

  As she felled him like a log rotted by termites, she saw his eyes widen in shock for a split second. He hit the concrete pavement cleanly, the back of his skull breaking his fall instead. She heard a crushing sound and froze, watching as his friend dove down to assess his condition.

  “Jocke! JOCKE!” his friend howled, trying to shake life into a man whose eyes were still open while blood pooled around his head like a red Afro.

  Muna stood there stunned, trying to figure out what had just happened, what was happening. She saw people approach as if in slow motion as the guy continued pulling and shaking his friend, willing him to respond.

  Once her brain thawed, the first signal it fired off to her body was flight. “Run for your life, Muna!” Those nerve endings delivered in Morse code.

  Muna turned and ran as screams of “Ta fast henne!” Catch her! filled the air. Her gown billowed around her, giving her the weightlessness of jellyfish floating in the Mediterranean.

  She had to get out of downtown. She ducked into the nearby subway station as people chased her, hot on her heels, but she dared not look back. They would grab her and lock her in that dark space of isolation she had crawled out of.

  She ran at such speed, it propelled her through the ticket control gates, pushing a commuter pressing his card to enter in front of her. Muna fell to the ground on the other side to screams from people jumping aside. She quickly scrambled back onto her feet, possessed by her mission to hop on the first train out. The pounding of feet behind her suggested more people had joined the pursuit. She took the stairs three steps at a time, her gown parachuting her down toward the tracks.

  She made it just in time as the green line toward Farsta strand was pulling out from the tunnel. She ran toward it, willing its doors to open midmotion but knowing full well they wouldn’t until the train had pulled to a complete stop.

  Images floated into Muna’s mind as she ran. Caaliyah’s floating gown. Aaden’s boyish grin. Mohammed’s hoarse cough. Ahmed’s honey eyes glowing with love. Gunhild’s turquoise ones filled with warmth. Everyone she ever loved was on the other side. Muna knew that was where she needed to be.

  So she pushed her fellow passengers aside and jumped.

  * * *

  Minutes later, a female voice came on over the intercom in Swedish. It apologized to passengers for the delay.

  There had been an accident on the green line.

  You Are Never Alone

  While you may feel isolated, there are support systems you can reach out to who truly care about you and deeply understand what you may be going through.

  Please reach out if you need someone or know someone who needs extra love and a listening ear.

  National Suicide Prevention Lifeline —­ Call 1-­800-­273-­8255

  Zero Suicide —­ www.zerosuicide.edc.org

  Suicide Prevention Resource Center —­ www.sprc.org

  Always choose hope.

  Author’s Note

  On autism and being on the spectrum…

  I wanted to create a very complex character in Jonny. One with multiple layers of discomfort caked on by a lack of transparency and full acknowledgment. Coupled with his immense privilege, this level of denial within his family can create opaque worlds around people with special needs.

  Many of you dear readers might have deduced that Jonny has an undiagnosed condition. My intent is not to link any speculations of autism or being on the spectrum to his fetishism.

  Far from it.

  After all, I truly believe being on the spectrum comes with its own superpowers.

  Rather, I wanted to show how important speaking openly about issues is and how giving one another the special support we need is essential to living our best lives.

  While having an undiagnosed condition does not justify bad behavior and Jonny remains fully accountable for his actions, I often imagine what he would have been like if his family had used their privilege to give him the tools and resources he needed to fully wear his skin.

  What if Astrid, Wilhelm, Antonia, and Svea had looked Jonny in the eye as a child, told him he was different, helped him embrace his superpowers, and let him know it was okay?

  One of the things I appreciate about living in a society built on balance and homogeneity is the fact that it tries to make everyone feel like they aren’t different, but therein lies its downfall. This unflinching need to not recognize and amplify what makes each of us uniquely beautiful means some very deep issues are often skimmed.

  We are in fact all perfectly different, and what makes us different needs to be fully celebrated within society.

  Reading Group Guide

  1. We see three very different Black women in this novel. How do you think each of their backgrounds informed the choices they made?

  2. The themes of tokenism an
d fetishization are prominent in this book. Discuss how they each played out with the women and what impact that had on them in the book.

  3. There are many comparisons between Swedish and American societies. What did you find different about how the two countries handled issues of racism and sexism? Was there something about the setting in Stockholm that changed your perspective about the social issues tackled in this book?

  4. Kemi seems to make a spur-­of-­the-­moment choice to move to Sweden. Why do you think she did this? How did her sister’s opinion factor into her decision?

  5. Jonny’s infatuation with Brittany borders on unhealthy, and yet there is a part of her that is drawn to him in the beginning. What about him do you think she found appealing? How did her past relationships factor in?

  6. At Brittany’s birthday party, Kemi awkwardly stumbles during their conversation and insults Brittany. Why do you think the author chose not to have these two Black women become friends?

  7. Muna experiences a tremendous amount of loss in the novel. What do her experiences show of the struggles refugees go through when displaced from their homes?

  8. Kemi’s relationship with Ragnar is unhealthy almost from the start. What does her final interaction with him show about her own growth and what she’s learned about herself in Sweden?

  9. Throughout the novel, Muna develops many short-­lived relationships, with the longest being her uncomfortable acquaintance with Yagiz. Why do you think these relationships are transient, and what do you think the author is trying to convey in her relationship with Yagiz?

  10. Jonny’s privilege and the protection his money affords him ultimately become problematic for Brittany and her child. What do you think the author was trying to say about wealth, choice, and accountability at the end of Brittany’s story?

  11. Kemi, Brittany, and Muna only have one small interaction with all three of them on the page together. Why do you think the author chose for them not to interact more?

  A Conversation with the Author

  What was the inspiration for In Every Mirror She’s Black? What did you draw on as you developed the story?

  In Every Mirror She’s Black was a story that organically developed after years of living in Sweden and observing how the voices of Black women resonate within society, which spaces we are invited to occupy or not, and if those spaces allow us to thrive or simply survive. Having lived in both Nigeria and the U.S. for extended periods of time before moving to Sweden, I wanted to pull out the nuances of navigating the world in my skin against the backdrop of very different cultures.

  You took on some very serious social issues in this novel: racism, classicism, sexism, fetishization of Black bodies. Why did you feel it was important to tackle each of them in this book?

  They often say debut novelists are quite ambitious because we want to tackle every single societal problem in a single book. With In Every Mirror She’s Black, I wanted to address them in a seamless way while spotlighting all these issues because they aren’t mutually exclusive.

  At what point does racism become tokenism as one moves into a certain economic class, and isn’t tokenism a form of racism? Can one have sexism without some form of fetishization?

  So simply picking one issue to focus on didn’t make sense to me. In reality, they all blend into one another because life is frustratingly complex and multilayered.

  You’re a Nigerian American woman living in Sweden. How did your own experiences inform each of the three main characters’ stories?

  Right away, I want readers to know that I am not Kemi, nor is her life based on mine. With that out of the way, making her Nigerian American meant I could pull from cultural references to root her. Brittany is a physical metaphor for the “acceptable” Black woman in society, one who is meant to be perfect in every way, including physically. With Muna, I spent time as a photographer regularly visiting an asylum center in Sweden, getting to know newly arrived refugees like Ahmed and Muna, and vowed to help give space to their individual voices.

  I wanted each of the women—­Kemi, Brittany, Muna—­to be free of having to carry the weight of society simply because they are Black. Even though they are strong, I wanted to give them space to make mistakes and to humanize them deeply. The world asks so much of us Black women, and we’re tired of being held to triple standards.

  What are you hoping readers will walk away from your book thinking about or talking about?

  To me, the power of In Every Mirror She’s Black is that everyone will walk away with something different. It could be anything from fully understanding that Black women are not monoliths to the effects of denial on not confronting issues, and how isolating and excluding even the strongest among us can end in tragic loss. There is no one specific “Black culture.” The same privilege of treating White people as individuals is long overdue for Black people.

  Ultimately, each of these women has a sort of tragic ending. Why did you make that choice?

  It is extremely important for us as Black authors to write stories that keep uplifting Black joy and Black hope. That would have been the cliched ending many people would have expected me to write, to tie everything up neatly because we’re tired of reading about Black pain. However, for me, based here in Sweden, the soil isn’t even fertile enough to allow Black women to thrive and grow. So, how could I transparently address Black joy when we’re still not confronting the problems that prevent Black women from thriving here?

  The three women don’t interact very much at all in the book. Why did you opt to keep them isolated and disconnected from one another?

  This harkens back to my goal of presenting each of them as individuals and not the bearers of a nonexistent homogenous Black culture. I wanted Muna to be fully seen as her bright-­eyed innocent self and not have to bear the burden of carrying the entire Somali community on her very young shoulders. I wanted Brittany to be fully seen as herself, a woman who wants the finer things in life without being judged as being Black bourgeoisie. And I wanted Kemi to be seen as her imperfect ambitious self, who shouldn’t be afraid to fail when many African parents pressure their kids to always succeed.

  I also wanted to show that not all Black women are automatically friends or have much in common. One of the most insulting things a White person can say to their sole Black friend is, “Oh, I met another Black person today! Do you know them? Maybe you should meet and become friends?”

  I wanted to reflect all this in the book in a nuanced way.

  Muna’s life seems to be filled with so much tragedy for someone so young. Was there something that inspired you to tell the story of a refugee?

  Many years ago, while writing my book LAGOM, I came across a Swedish proverb that says “The deepest well can also be drained,” and it arrested me. That even the strongest, most resilient among us can eventually break too because we are human.

  I loved Muna’s character so deeply and often cried when I wrote her life out on the page, because I connected with her deep isolation the most. As someone who has been isolated and sidelined so many times, personally and professionally, I could feel Muna’s pain in trying to create connection and understanding of who she truly is as an individual.

  As previously mentioned, I often visited an asylum center deep within the Swedish countryside, and it was simply to spend time with asylees and set up photo shoots for them so they fully see themselves without the labels of being “refugees” as they awaited news about their migration status. Even the name of the fictional center in In Every Mirror She’s Black called “Solsidan” is named after one of Sweden’s most affluent neighborhoods as tongue-­in-­cheek.

  Many of us who live in Sweden have heard those announcements about train accidents. I wanted to put a name and face that we’ve grown to love on one of those nameless announcements.

  This is your first adult novel. What advice would you give to young writers out there?


  The very same advice I gave in the opening credits of the book: Your voice is more powerful than you think. You are allowed to exist without explanation even if you feel uninvited, unappreciated, and invisible. Never, ever let the world convince you that your struggles are invalid.

  And I’ll end with my absolute favorite quote from E. E. Cummings: “To be nobody-­but-­yourself—­in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else—­means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

  Acknowledgments

  These beautiful characters wouldn’t have come to life without my family and an entire community of friends and champions propping me up all along the way.

  I am deeply thankful to my agent, Jessica Craig, who realized she had signed a crazy person with unearthly perseverance and a strong resolve that just never quits.

  To my wonderful editors, Christa Désir and Erin McClary, and my entire Sourcebooks Landmark family, including Dominique Raccah, who saw the vision of this book where others couldn’t and fully championed to have Kemi’s, Brittany-­Rae’s, and Muna’s voices heard by everyone.

  To my dear friend Leigh Shulman and my sister, Dami Ákínmádé, for turning my first draft into something worthy.

  To my special beta readers and friends for all your invaluable feedback, which steered the initial manuscript along in the right direction: Andrea Pippins, Astrid & Bengt Sundgren, Anja Mutic, Kimberly Golden, Kristin Lohse, Merci Olsson, Gerry R. Bjallerstedt, Lily Girma, Maddy Savage, Irene Nalubega, Kendra Valentine, Lizzie Harwood, Pamela MacNaughtan, and Dr. Alia Amir.

  Thank you for listening to me incessantly talk about this book, especially Janicke Hansen, Yomi Abiola, Lyota Swainson, Par Johansson, the late Sandra Carpenter, Germaine Thomas, Meryem Aichi, and everyone at our ladies’ dinners.