An Interview with Abeer Hoque: Nigerian • Bangladeshi-American Author + Photographer

abeer hoque nigerian bangladeshi american


As I approached Abeer’s apartment in Queens, so many thoughts were racing thru my mind.

“I’m about to meet my Nigerian sista.”
“We both lived in Enugu as kids. Such a small world.”
“I thought I had problems figuring out my cultural identity growing up. But damn...hers is gonna be something serious!"
“Her memoir Olive Witch, where did that name come from?”
“A Nigerian-born, Bangladeshi-American author and photographer. How cool is that?”

She opened the door and welcomed me with a warm hug. We instantly bonded as Nigerian sisters.

Read Abeer's bio on Defining Cultures

• “In Nigeria, I was Bangladeshi, even though I had never lived there. In high school in America, I was from Nigeria, because that was where I had just come from, the only place I had lived, the country of my birth. When I got my US citizenship midway through college, I became American. I stopped mentioning Nigeria because it was too complicated to explain why I was from there but looked otherwise.” •

– Excerpt from 'Olive Witch'

How did your Bangladeshi parents end up in Nigeria?

Nigeria was starting to establish new universities after gaining independence. There weren’t enough trained professors, so they recruited professors from all over the world. My dad was one of the people that they recruited to come and teach in the Geology Department at the University of Nigeria in Nsukka. So a year before I was born, my parents moved to Nigeria.

Tell me about your childhood.

I was born in Enugu and grew up in Nsukka for the first 13 years of my life. All the people who lived in the town were connected to the university somehow. The kids in my kindergarten through 8th grade (Form 2) classes were the sons and daughters of the professors at the university or doctors who worked at the university hospital.

My closest friends were primarily Nigerians. My best friend, from 4th to 8th grade, was a Nigerian girl, Uche. But I did have friends that were foreigners. I played with different types of kids; it was never a problem.

In terms of ethnicity, at what age did you realize: “I’m not Nigerian?”

I didn’t know for a very long time. As I grew older, the sense of being an outsider intensified.

While living there, did you ever get a chance to visit Bangladesh?

Yes. The university had really great benefits. That’s how they got professors to come and teach at the university. So almost every summer, we would go to Bangladesh to visit. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins…all extended family was there.

But to me it was a little weird...they were these other people who were very far away. You go and spend two months with them, and then came back to what was reality. My parents thought of Bangladesh as home, but I thought of it as a place to visit.

How old were you when your parents decided to move to the U.S.? And why the move?

I was 13 years old. My sister was [12] in middle school, and my brother was [6] in elementary school.

My parents were concerned with the political situation in Nigeria. There were military coups and strikes. My dad was having trouble finishing his semester, and the students were pretty much screwed.

I think my parents originally thought that we would all finish high school and then maybe go abroad for college, which a lot of Nigerians do. But because the situation was getting a bit more difficult…even buying fresh bread, milk and eggs were getting harder…that’s when they decided it was time.

How did you feel when you found out you’d be moving?

I was definitely going to miss Nigeria. I remember I was really devastated because we were leaving my home.

The geography of Nsukka was really important to me. We were in a really tiny town. Our house was the last one on the road, and right beside our house was this little jungle we would play in. No movie theaters. No telephones. We had tennis and badminton courts, a playground. We basically played outside everyday…'oga’ and other clapping games, hopscotch.

We had the luxury of help in Nigeria – we had a maid, a gardener. So my parents sat us down and told us: 'There’s no help in America.' We’d have to do chores…wash all our dishes, wash all our clothes, and clean the house.

You arrive in America…a teenager. How was high school?

Terrible! The most traumatic thing was entering the American school system. There were few brown families in our suburban neighborhood of Pittsburgh, and I went to a predominately white school.

I had an intense Nigerian accent, so they made fun of it.

We didn’t know the music…we didn’t know American humor/jokes. We didn’t have Guess jeans. My mom took us to Kmart to get $10 jeans, so we felt unfashionable, uncool, cheap. But it was all we could afford at the time.

One thing that I was good at was school, which was so not cool. Back then, it was more important if you were pretty, fun, strong – the types of things you really couldn’t control.

Not everyone in my high school was like this, but I definitely felt very different and had a hard time fitting in.

I’m sure you got the “Where are you from” question. How did you answer that?

It has always been hard to explain. I say I’m Nigerian, because that’s where I was born and grew up. And my parents are originally from Bangladesh, and that’s why I look the way I do.

Were you able to talk about your teenage problems with your parents?

No. My parents didn’t realize what we were going through. They were like, just study and get good grades.

And I was a bit of a reserved and sensitive kid, more so than now. So for me, it felt really intense. And every emotion was magnified. So it took me all four years to start to get a grip of what I liked about American culture, and how I could fit in.

I had a lot of conflict with my parents. We were always fighting, mostly about teenage things. They were strict: I couldn’t go out, I couldn’t date anybody, I couldn’t go to the mall.

I was looking forward to college for many reasons. One was to get away from my parents and have my own life. And the other was to get rid of the person that I was in high school – being uncomfortable and awkward – and try to become a cool, bold person.

What university and major did you choose and why?

I went to Penn [University of Pennsylvania] in Philly, but I really wanted to go further. I got into Penn early, so I didn’t send in my other applications that I had prepared, which I was sad about.

My parents wanted me to go to the University of Pittsburgh (Pitt), but I would have probably had to stay at home, and they would’ve been only a half hour away. I got a full scholarship, but turned it down. I went to the other end of the state, 300 miles away, so my parents couldn’t just drop in.

But anyway, I loved Penn! It’s an awesome school and admits all different types of people. Plus, it’s in a decent size city, so you get the urban feel.

My first semester, I took an Actuarial Science course and thought, "This is awful," and immediately abandoned the major. I was in the business school at Wharton, so I picked another one which seemed interesting, Information Systems. It was practical. I could have a productive, lucrative career with that major, and graduate from a good business school. My dad was happy with that.

You go from attending a predominately white high school, to attending a big university that includes other ethnicities, including South Asians. How was that? 

I met some of my best friends that I am very close to till this day.

There were no South Asians in my undergraduate circle of friends, partly because most of them were rich Indians, studying business, engineering or pre-med. I was in a completely different socio-economic class. I didn’t have a way of really connecting with them. I was also afraid. I was dating a white American at the time, so I didn’t want people to know in case it got back to my family somehow. I was living a double life that I wanted to protect... so I actively avoided the brown community for a while.

It wasn’t until grad school that I made my first South Asian friend. She was also dating a white boy secretly from her Pakistani-American parents. We bonded over that.

Hold up…I thought you weren’t interested in what you were studying. Why continue the exact program into grad school?

My parents were like, you have to do a Ph.D. Bangladeshis are pretty pro-Ph.D.s and academics. And my parents in particular are super academic. They have five graduate degrees between the two of them.

I went directly into the Wharton Ph.D. program after undergrad. It was a disaster because I tried to cram through the Ph.D. like I did in undergrad, which barely worked anyway. I was also really unhappy to boot.

I spent four years in the program, did my master’s thesis and completed my Phase 1 exams (the comprehensive exams). I was ABD [all but dissertation].

But then I ended up having a mental breakdown...and was involuntarily committed to a psych ward.

• “Wharton has granted my request for a leave of absence…I know I’m not going back, even though I’m almost four years in and my Master's thesis just got published. No one, at least of all my parents, might understand why I’m quitting now, but at least no one will question me anymore. I am being left to my own means, and my decisions, right or wrong, are finally wholly my own.” •

- Excerpt from "Olive Witch"


Chi Chi's notes: Life had caught up to Abeer – hitting her like a ton of bricks. Trying to figure out her identity, suffering through school, battling her parents’ Bengali views on life and dating. So much weight. She broke.

Abeer hit the refresh button of life at 25. She started a job at an Asian Internet startup in Philly. Her first time meeting South Asians that were different than the ones she was used to at Penn – some recent immigrants, others arrived at a much younger age. One was most memorable: an Indian-Kenyan lady. When Abeer asked her, “Where are you from?” She responded without hesitation, “Kenya.” This was a pivotal moment for Abeer.

[Abeer]

I needed that. I needed to meet other people who were comfortable in saying where they were from, even if they didn’t look like they were from there. It was very important for me though I might not have realized it at the time.

How did your journey to becoming a writer begin?

I always wrote little poems growing up, but stopped when I was in business school. And at the startup, I had a writing job – managing content for the website.

I would come home everyday and had a big long wall in the hallway of my apartment. I covered it with butcher paper and started writing poems on them. When it got full, I would re-paper it, and keep writing poems. People would come over and be overwhelmed at the profusion of words on the wall, and I would say “write something!” At some point, I said jokingly, “I should be a writer.” And the person I was dating at the time turned to me and said, “I think everybody knows that except for you.” It was the most sincere epiphany I ever had, that that’s what I wanted to be.

So I made the decision to move across the country to start a Master of Fine Arts [MFA] program at the University of San Francisco.

What did your parents say about this new path?

I had already deeply disappointed them when I dropped out of my Ph.D. program. So I was afraid of what they would think.

But I hadn’t accounted for the fact that Bengalis, from both India and Bangladesh, honor poetry and literature. They’re some of the best writers from the sub-continent, and the literary arts are revered. People memorize poems by famous poets in Bangladesh. The first Nobel laureate from Asia was Rabindranath Tagore, a very famous poet who wrote the national anthems for Bangladesh and India.

When I told my parents that I was going to poetry school, they said: "That’s an honorable profession.” They were so supportive! Who would’ve thought? [laughter]

Tell me about your MFA program and the story behind Olive Witch.

Through the program, I met other writers who were amazing and completely different [than what I was used to at Wharton].

I started by writing stories about my childhood in Nigeria. These exotic stories. I didn’t think anyone was going to care, but they loved them! I ended up writing the first version of Olive Witch in my program in 2003, with two main parts set in Nigeria and America.

The Olive Witch nickname I got from Glenn [my boyfriend at Penn] was just a fun nickname that stuck. [Taken and twisted from Rage Against The Machine’s music lyrics: “All of which are American dreams.”]

The title of the first draft of my memoir was actually the whole twisted lyric: Olive Witch: An American Dream, since the book started in Nigeria and ended in America. The third Bangladesh part filled out after my Bangladesh stay from 2006 to 2008, and I dropped the American dream part of the title because it was more than just an American dream at that point.

By the time you reach early 30s, you were awarded a Fulbright Scholarship (2007), which eventually helped you live in Bangladesh. Tell me about this.

The other important part of coming to my own, was going to Bangladesh after living in San Francisco for about 4 years. My last time visiting was a decade prior with my mom, when I was in my 20s and living in Philly.

I got a Fulbright Scholarship to go [to South Asia] for one year, but ended up living there for 3.

I was living with family and friends. So I was able to stretch the Fulbright because I didn’t have many expenses. For the most part, I had a really great time there. Made some great friends and got really connected with my extended family.

During your time there, how was it being in Bangladesh?

They looked at me as totally American! They would introduce me as “The American Fulbright Scholar,” or “The Wharton graduate.” A lot of people like the little marks of privilege, status symbols.

• “I’m dressed native to a T, speaking my best Bangla, and still, a peddler cries out to me. ‘Apa, ashen!’ And then in English, ‘Come, sister! What country are you from?’ [Me:] Yours, for God’s sake.” •

- Excerpt from "Olive Witch"

So you traveled for 4 more years after you left Bangladesh, totaling 7 years of travel. Why did you decide to come back to America in 2013?

There were 2 reasons I came back: my love life and my career. I was trying to get published and to also date again. It’s so hard to date while traveling. I loved being single, but I also loved being with people. I met Josh 4 years ago just after I came to New York so that was really lovely. He also likes to travel so that works out really well!

Why New York?

I really wanted to go back to San Francisco. I never felt as home in America, as in that city. It just fits me, it’s chill, gorgeous, liberal, it’s amazing. I really loved it, but it’s like a country away from the East Coast. So because my whole family was on the East Coast, I moved to NY.

I had been writing from 2001, when I started my MFA, onward...about 12 years at that point, but had not published any books. I had gotten dozens of magazine publications, but I hadn’t been able to find an agent or a publisher. So I thought, "I’ll go to New York and find myself a freakin publisher if it kills me!"

I won a National Endowment for the Art (NEA) grant for literature, which was very helpful for me when moving to NY. The grant was $25k. I thought of that grant as funding one year in New York and I was going to go from there. And then I found a job after that. I’ve been in New York for almost 4 years now.

Over a decade later, Olive Witch is finally published. Explain how this happened.

I pitched my memoir to probably 200 agents in the U.S., and didn’t get much interest. I made a connection with an editor who had just started at HarpersCollins India [HCI] and genuinely liked my work. I signed a two book deal with HCI, and they published my linked short stories [The Lovers and the Leavers]  in 2015, and Olive Witch  in 2016.

Every year, their global distribution arm, Harper360, pitches books from around the world to other regions. So they pitched Olive Witch to HarperCollins U.S., and they liked it! My memoir had to go to India first and then come back to the States. In addition, the book was one of very few chosen to receive marketing resources and I was assigned a publicist…which has really helped a lot! 

Once you got the good news, what did your parents say?

I was a little nervous about them reading this book. It’s not necessarily a book that you’d want to read about your daughter. In 2003, when I first wrote it, they were really happy and said they’d read it once it got published. I didn’t know that it was going to be another 12 years later. So I guess now they will read it.

How do you balance your identity with your professional career?

It’s ongoing. Everything that I write is going to be informed by that. I’m a little bit older and more conscious of how people are represented in entertainment, media and literature. So instead of criticizing it in other people’s work, I need to make it more real in mine, and represent that in my future work.

At what point did you come to know ‘who you are?’

This idea of who you are, for me, has changed over the years. Even the times when I thought I was done, like after college, in the hubris of my 20’s. And then I quit business school, and then became a writer and moved to San Francisco. And then I went to Bangladesh, and then came back. I feel every one of those stages of my life are extremely important to who I am. It keeps adding.

What advice would you give to your 16-year old self?

I had this idea that you can only be liked if you fit all of these molds, and it made it really difficult to just relax and be myself.

I’d say, trust yourself. Trust who you are and people will connect with that, even if you don’t think they will.

• •

- On February 7th, 2017, Abeer kicked off her countrywide tour for her memoir 'Olive Witch' with Harper360. View upcoming dates and locations by clicking here.

- Abeer Hoque is the author of three books: 'Olive Witch' (HarperCollins India, 2016 and Harper360 2017); 'The Lovers and the Leavers' (Bengal Lights Books 2014, HarperCollins India 2015), a collection of linked stories, photographs and poems, which she wrote on her Fulbright; and 'The Long Way Home,' a coffee table book of travel photographs and poems (Ogro 2013).

- Image courtesy of Abeer Hoque.

- This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.