Talking About Writing About Rape

In a Bazaar exclusive,SohailaAbdulalibrings a spirit of optimism to a heinous crime

JUST FOR THIS LOVELY MOMENT, I’m living the dream. I spent some months writing a book, had a grand time doing it, and it’s poised to come out all over the world. It might sell; it might not. The dreamy part was working on it, talking to incredible people, typing madly while ignoring the reality that my table is too high and my chair too low and it hurts to sit here and why don’t I get a real desk…

I’m proud of my book. But I’m not proud of the small part of me that cringes when people ask what I’m working on. This is how it goes:

I meet someone at a dinner party. We do the obligatory nice-to-meet-you-what’s-your-connection-with-the-host what-do-you-do. And of course they ask.

“Are you working on anything now? A book? That’s great, what’s it about?”

“It’s about rape.”

Proud. I’m proud. It’s a tremendous topic. So why do I have to school my face to be calm, why do I have to stop myself from saying something defensive, like, “I know, it’s not exactly a jolly topic”? Why do I want to apologise for bringing ugliness into the conversation?