There is a meditative mellifluousness in Fathima’s voice: fittingly reflective of her beautiful yet moving, profound verse. One line from the poem, Purgatory, written during lockdown, for example, reads: ‘Before the fear of small spaces/ Before this ache for others’ hands and bodies/ I imagined ballrooms into the cramped cupboard’. Fathima is a notable performance poet, and is a Barbican Young Poet and a Roundhouse Poetry Collective alumna. She has performed at esteemed urban venues in London such as Café Oto in East London and The Roundhouse in Chalk Farm. Her work has won the Bridport Prize, Wells Fest Young Poets Prize and the Asia House Poetry Slam. She is a winner in the Moon Poetry and Golden Shovel Challenges.
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She has been compared to British war-time poets, and there is even a hint of Flaubert’s Madame Bovary evident in the emotion. However, with her fearless modern embrace of complex subjectivity, Fathima emerges as her own brand of literary posterity. We sat down to talk on the evening preceding Eid: “It has been a good Ramadan,” Fathima shared. “I’ve been able to spend it with family. There is much more to the month for me and the community: it is a time about much more than giving up food and water where one is given the opportunity to look inwards. Once you get used to the physical sensations of fasting, there is a phase of being reflective. You get used to the difficulty and there is a lot of mental clarity. Growing up, it was easy to go through the motions: turn up at the table, wake up before sunrise and sit with loved ones. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I began engaging deeply with my faith and thought differently about life.”
Indeed, much of Fathima’s work centres on the conflict of modern and shifting identity, especially through the lens of cross-cultural experience, and ultimately, interestingly, the ubiquity of patriarchy. Her debut pamphlet, ‘Sargam / Swargam’ (2021), which is a collection of poems described as consisting of ‘recurring obsessions including belonging, girlhood and relationships which touch on themes of shame, desire and an uneasy burgeoning into maturity.” This is evident in the verse entitled, London Aquatics Centre, Stratford, where a line reads: ‘The first time you wear a bikini in/public, it’s ladies’ hour at the local/pool, your mother’s disapproving brows follow you. The changing room is filled with the ghosts of/ middle-school girls’ staccato laugh.’ In another poem, Ramadan 2019, Fathima writes: ‘We stalk the moon all month round, lick/our lips, till the Adhan goes off on our phones/dig our teeth into the soft flesh of dates, wash.’
As well as the celebration of cultural tradition then there is an underlying lamenting of personal repression that creates her distinctively fiery yet vulnerable tone. Sentimentality is fused with a type of domestic claustrophobia. Fathima commented on the paradox: “Much of my writing is a stand against silence and a lot of the situations growing up where I was not heard. A lot of poems revolve around things that have happened to me or fictionalised versions of what women around me were experiencing. My world was one of a matriarchal family and spaces. When you don’t speak, what you do write really stands out. As a child, I was quite shy and not outspoken and even when I am around women today with whom I am comfortable, I don’t always share deep experiences. I don’t know if this is necessarily an expression of cultural conflict or to do with background – rather an individual observation of a common thread living in a patriarchal society and trying to resist the ways in which it manifests as a woman”.
Consequently performing her poetry has been an organic amplification of this resilient voice. “I have always enjoyed being on stage – when it came to having a little push, I absolutely loved the limelight – the aspect of the open mic really excites me.” Fathima has also moved a lot in her life which has enhanced her appreciation of intimate tradition even as she seeks to interrogate the wider gendered construct: “I see this reckoning with sense of belonging across a lot of poets of different diasporas. I am from India, but grew up across Saudi Arabia and then moved to England in my twenties. You need to learn to adapt but also carve out an understanding for what your culture and identity means in a different place. That sense of pride and individuality comes from preserving cultural tradition. It will be the last day of Ramadan soon and we will dress up and put Mehendi on each other – there is something stirring in holding onto what defines you not matter how challenging that is. Even though we have moved countries, I always feel as if I am living in two places at once – there is a looking back and desire to honour the memory of these places. It exists in the heart as even if we went back it wouldn’t be the same!” Finally, Fathima’s poetry goes beyond an exploration of contemporary Islamic identity to commemorate the cadence of cosmopolitanism itself.
What have been some of your favourite venues to perform e.g. I really love Cafe Oto for the intimate vibe?
I love readings in bookshops because they are a very safe space – I enjoy being able to browse. The venue is intimate just by the very fact of being smaller. In terms of memorable performance, I have enjoyed the Roundhouse and doing the poetry slam there. It was awe-inspiring: incredible bands have performed in a place with such history. The people there were so warm and really took care of the artists.
What are some of the poetic devices you enjoy exploring?
Use of metaphors and repetition, even when I wrote short stories and prose. I enjoyed working with different poetic forms. There is something in subverting tradition e.g. the Petrarchan sonnet. There is a patriarchal allusion as to why the sonnet came about in that it was written as a love poem where the woman was not necessarily expected to speak back. I enjoy reclaiming it through my tradition.
What, in your opinion, does it take to be a strong performance poet?
Authenticity. Over the years, the performers that have stood out are the ones in which the poet is being themselves and are not necessarily imitating other styles that may be more successful or popular. When you are reading out a poem, it is important to consider what feels natural: do you want to dramatize every line or be quiet? Figure that and stay true to yourself. Also, watching and learning from other spoken word performers helps affirm for yourself that there are many ways to approach the form.
Finally, who have been some literary influences?
It changes over time, but there have been constants such as Safia Elhillo, Tishani Doshi and Raymond Antrobus – my favourite poets are those who expand my thinking about language and belonging and the world in general.
To read more of Fathima’s work, please see…
