Honour Killing, by Imtiaz Dharker
I recently remembered the existence of this poem. It was part of the anthology I studied at GCSE, under the umbrella of 'conflict poetry.' At the time, it was my favourite poem from the anthology. I remember thinking that both the imagery and the structure were very clever, and now, reading it again, I am still in agreement with myself. It's a poem about protesting against repression, about redefining your identity, and it's absolutely brilliant.
At last I'm taking off this coat
this black coat of a country
that I swore for years was mine,
that I wore more out of habit
than design.
Born wearing it,
I believed I had no choice.
I'm taking off this veil,
this black veil of a faith
that made me faithless
to myself,
gave my god a devil's face,
and muffled my own voice.
I'm taking off these silks,
these lacy things
that feed dictator dreams,
the mangalsutra and the rings
rattling in a tin cup of needs
that beggared me.
I'm taking off this skin,
and then the face, the flesh,
the womb.
Let's see
what I am in here
when I squeeze past
the easy cage of bone.
Let's see
what I am out here,
making, crafting,
plotting
at my new geography.
In the opening stanza, the narrator is stripping herself of her nationality and cultural background. The metaphor of the black coat is so evocative - it seems to suggest something heavy, something overbearing, something that oppresses and covers up, and something that is not actually part of you, but something you are trapped inside. She was 'born wearing it' - marked out from the start.
Stanza 2 is a rejection of her religion - perhaps not the religion itself, but the oppression that all too often comes with it. 'This black veil of a faith' is another ominous metaphor just like the black coat; it has connotations of oppression, of being hidden, and is a beautifully subtle allusion to Islam. I love how Dharker has put 'faith' and 'faithless' - direct opposites - at the end of lines. It's mirrored then by the use of 'god' and 'devil' on the same line. The physical placement of words in poetry is so important, and Dharker uses it very effectively to highlight the stark contrast. Both sets of juxtaposition show that when religion is adulterated, it results in the loss of the identity of both God and the people who follow the religion.
The third stanza seems to be a rebellion against femininity. Dharker writes of jewellery and 'lacy things,' typically effeminate objects, that typically turn the women into objects. The metaphor of the 'tin cup of needs that beggared me' illustrates the way being a woman puts her down in status, automatically lowering her rights. And isn't it such a fantastic metaphor? Dharker even uses 'rattling,' a verb which commonly describes the sound of chains, which links to the previous image of necklaces, all combining to portray being a woman as entrapping.
The next stanza is much more personal. We've moved from items that one wears, items that one puts on externally, to things that are actually part of the body. The face, the flesh, the womb. They are the things that define the narrator, and she is stripping back even these.
The tone changes then: the repeated motif of 'I'm taking off' is replaced by 'Let's see' - showing self-discovery. My favourite image in this stanza is 'the easy cage of bone.' It evokes a ribcage, making the reader imagine that she is delving right into the very heart of herself. And then in the final verse, Dharker takes us from deep inside to the great expanse of the outside, the future, the new self. The three verbs show that this new woman has control over her own actions. She is no longer trapped, but free and active.
So the imagery is clever, but the thing I find most thrilling about this poem is the structure, and how it complements the imagery so well. Notice how the narrator reduces herself - she takes off the heavy coat, then the veil, then the lace (the clothing becoming more flimsy and light as the poem progresses), then goes to her very heart before reinventing herself. This is perfectly reflected in the length of the stanzas, which shrink and shrink until sparse and short, and then grow again as she rebuilds herself. Isn't that just amazing?
And the last thing I want to touch on is the title of the poem: Honour Killing. It's a reference to an appalling practice in which females are killed for bringing dishonour to their families. It's this dire consequence of rebellion that forces the women to conform to societal strictures, to wear a veil, to be feminine, to keep their opinions hidden and their voices unheard. So by writing this poem, the narrator is putting herself at risk of an honour killing. She is also killing her own honour, in order to redefine it. It's an irony that turns the idea of an honour killing on its head, and empowers people to choose what informs their own identities.
Empowering!