The Harem in Me

I’ve been reading Elif Shafak’s memoir Black Milk: on Writing and Motherhood recently. The writer talks of the “harem of women inside her”, she calls them her Choir of Discordant Voices, her Thumbelinas, her finger-women. These women inside her are both her guides and her critiques; they disagree on everything and argue constantly, there’s noContinue reading “The Harem in Me”