Unwritten Tales: Are Arab Female Authors Getting the Spotlight They Deserve? As the quest for more inclusivity in literary publications continues, here's how four Arab female authors -Najwa Zebian, Sara Hamdan, Zoulfa Katouh, and Noura Alkhoori- are pushing the envelope in enabling wider acceptance for uniquely diverse stories.

This article is part of a series entitled "Trailblazing Women" by Entrepreneur Middle East in celebration of International Women's Day 2025.

"Growing up, were there any fictional or literary characters that you resonated with purely because of the way they looked, spoke or dressed?" is the first question I pose to Lebanese-Canadian author and poet Najwa Zebian, Emirati children's writer Noura Alkhoori, Palestinian-American editor and writer Sara Hamdan, and Syrian-Canadian author Zoulfa Katouh when I meet them, separately, at the Emirates Literature Festival 2025 in Dubai. The answers? Four quietly murmured nos.

Now, like me, any avid reader might have half expected that one syllable reply. To understand the complexity of this matter, however, it is necessary to first understand the current regional and global publishing scene. For starters, the number of female authors has considerably increased over the last few decades, with a 2023 study by the World Economic Forum showing that "by 2020, for the first time in history, women were publishing more books than men, contributing to increased revenue for the industry for both male and female consumers." In 2024, for the first time in the Booker prize's 55-year history, the shortlist featured the biggest number of women authors. While these are clearly encouraging signs of gender equity among authors, there are still some worrying statistics if one were to go beyond these surface-level advancements. Notably, the studies done on author diversity aren't many, but there are a few that show how racially disproportionate the industry is- for example, since 2010, Caucasian/White authors still represent 75.58% of the books that are published in the US alone. The percentage of authors who are Hispanic or Latino, Black or African American, and Asian are 7.6%, 5.9% and 4.9% respectively.

Which brings this conversation back to the crux of this article: the need for female Arab authors to, unapologetically, share about their unique cultural and social experiences.

Zebian -the author of seven books across poetry and self-development, including her popular 2016 debut publication Mind Platter as well as her latest book The Only Constant which was released in early 2024- stresses upon how literature enables a greater sense of community. "If you don't have Arab women writing for Arab women and other women, then you would be robbing the world of voices that exist and of experiences that exist," Zebian says. "So when an Arab woman puts a book out there or puts her writings out there, at the same time that she's giving herself a voice, she's giving all these other women a validating experience saying your story is also somewhere out there. It's not easy to find a shared experience with someone who doesn't share the culture or the language or the upbringing. Yes, we are humans and we have universal experiences. But there's something to be said about growing up in the same place, or growing up surrounded by the same cultural expectations and traditions, that somebody who hasn't lived in this context or these circumstances wouldn't understand the struggle of. So when you give a voice to one woman, you're giving a voice to God knows how many. That's why it's so important to offer these opportunities and offer these platforms."

In response to my very first question, Katouh -whose 2022 debut novel As Long As The Lemon Tress Grow tells the story of a young couple during the Syrian civil war- notes that, in the absence of literary characters that looked like her, she found solace in those that thought like her instead. "I grew up with Anne of Green Gables, and I saw myself represented in her imagination a lot, because I also had a wild imagination," she tells me. "And through those books, I fell in love with nature, and it made me open my eyes to the stories that I could come up with. But she never looked like me! I mean, I don't have red hair or green eyes or freckles. I didn't feel represented [in books] until I was in my twenties when I read Love from A to Z by S.K. Ali [published in 2019]. That was the first book where I saw a Muslim hijabi girl who thought like me, and had similarities with me- that was the only time that I felt truly represented in contemporary fiction. But when I started writing my own book [in 2017], Love from A to Z was not out yet, and so I felt like I was… not lost at sea, but I was navigating new waters on how to write a story and characters that fit my perception of what it means to be Arab, Muslim and hijabi and living in this world that fights you on who you are, but at the same time, there are people who accept you. So yeah, when I was writing it, it was like I felt represented in a character that I wrote myself."

Displaying similar sentiments as Katouh is Hamdan, who has formerly been a New York Times journalist and editor-in-chief at Google, when she talks about her debut book What Will People Think?, which is set to release in May this year. Indeed, she too felt perturbed by the lack of representation of Arab women in modern day literature, and set out to tell a unique story through the fictional world she built. "One of the main characters in my book is a Palestinian-American living in New York who works as a stand-up comedian, but then she discovers her grandmother's diary, and it dates back to Palestine in the 1940s," she shares. "In fact all three protagonists of my novel are Arab women. And I just want to show that they are strong and wonderful and, like everyone else, they have the same problems and issues. I think representation is very, very important, because we need to create empathy. We need to build bridges. A lot of the problems we see in the news today are because people are afraid of others, and this is why storytelling is so necessary! Also part of the reason why I wanted to write this book is because I think we need more representation that doesn't have to do with politics and religion, but just has to do with a regular woman making her way."

Alkhoori -an Emirati environmentalist who incorporates elements about nature and local culture into her books for kids, including the 2013-published Fanteer al Flamingo Al Manfoush (Fanteer, The Fluffy Flamingo) and 2016-published The White Hands- reflects Hamdan's statement. "You know, we grew up with Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, and there was never any Arab scene in there, let alone a character!" Alkoori recalls. "There's more empathy when you find yourself in a book. And I think it boosts the confidence a little bit as well to know that somebody is writing about our society or people who look like us."

But the next question this conversation churns out is perhaps where the complexity of the matter lies: are publishing houses not doing enough to give female Arab authors a platform? Alkhoori says the situation isn't necessarily as black and white as one may expect it to be. For starters, she notes that female authors too need to make use of the changing literary landscape to ensure their books are being shared to wider audiences. "This isn't just about what's being published, because I think even translated works are just as important at this point," Alkhoori says. "The publishing industry, in the UAE especially, has flourished in the past 10 years. I've been with them- I started writing in 2011, so I know we've come a long way. And I've seen how the industry has changed, right? There are so many publishing houses, like the Sharjah Publishing Free Zone, doing a lot to help there. So I don't think it's a problem of getting published as much as it is getting our works out there for the people to know that they're there."

On the other hand, Katouh, who had her book published in Canada, notes that while her journey was fairly smooth, there were some hurdles that might've stemmed from a place of prejudice. "I did have a couple of instances that made me feel insecure- for example, my first language is English, but then I had one agent tell me 'well, it's very clear from your writing that your first language is not English,'" she recalls, "And I remember being like, but it is! I'm Canadian! But at that moment I thought she was just giving constructive criticism, and it was only around three years later that I realized that that was a really terrible thing to say. So it was small instances like those. But they never deterred me from my path, or from my goal to get published. I had way, way more support in regards to getting published than people who were against it. But publishing is a very individual journey, everybody goes through it differently. I did get a lot of rejections from agents, and it's a lonely process. And I certainly had concerns, because I wrote about a Muslim Arab girl living in a Muslim Arab country, speaking technically Arabic, even though it's in English. So I was like, "who's going to read this? Is some girl in Minnesota going to feel represented in a book about Syria?" And the answer was yes! I was wrong, and I was very happy that I was wrong, so the hurdles did not stop me, and they did not stop the readers. They all loved it."

When it comes to being rejected by agents and publishers, however, Hamdan's experience is nothing short of awe-inspiring. After having multiple doors closed on her face for her book's first manuscript, the Dubai-based author clinched a six-figure two-book deal with US-based publishing house Holt- the largest book deal to come out of the Middle East! And like Katouh, Hamdan shares that the hurdles never halted, or even paused, her literary ambitions. "With each no, you have to figure out how badly you want the thing- you have to ask yourself, 'do I stop now or do I keep going?'" she says. "During the pandemic, there was a competition on Netflix's Twitter handle and they were looking for a one-page story that had to do with the character of whatever ethnic background you come from. So I took a scene from this book -that was a work in progress at the time- and I won. And that was, for me, the turning point because I finally realized that, okay, there is a global audience. Okay, I am a good writer. People think so; it's not just me! And then I kept working. The Emirates Literature Foundation's Seddiqi Writers' Fellowship came in after that. So I was very lucky to be part of the program. I had a mentor through it, and we went to New York for a writing trip. And then I ended the year with five or six agents asking me to be represented by them, choosing the most amazing ones. Two months after that, we got into a bidding war, went to auction with three of the big five publishers and the biggest book deal to come out of the Middle East! But it still feels surreal saying it, even though I do tell the story often now, because it's taken so long."

^{Najwa Zebian's latest book, The Only Constant, was published in March 2024 and offers guidance on embracing change and leading an authentic life.}

Hamdan then states that it is important for Arab female authors in the UAE and wider region to make use of the resources available to them -a close reiteration of Akhoori's earlier point- and also not let self-inhibiting doubts stop them. One such program Hamdan vouches for is the aforementioned Emirates Literature Foundation's Seddiqi Writers' Fellowship, which pairs 10 winning writers with internationally published authors, providing one-on-one coaching, workshops, and access to publishing industry experts. "I think there's no fellowship like this in the whole world," Hamdan adds. "But with these initiatives, if you are scared or you don't have the confidence to apply, just do it because sometimes we hold ourselves back. There's nothing stopping you from writing a great story and having a wonderful mentor that's a famous author from abroad help you get your book in shape. So these things exist, and also the competition that I mentioned, the Netflix one, this was a global one, but I applied from here. I didn't let it stop me. So I think sometimes we have a lot of our own hurdles. There is nothing stopping any writer from writing and pitching to agents. Just go for it."

Yet again, Hamdan's sentiments are very closely mirrored in the separate conversation I have with Alkhoori, who notes that self doubt can often creep up in the minds of writers. "I feel that a lot- I also sometimes wonder, "Is all of this worth it? Is anybody reading? Are our books getting sold? Is anybody hearing about us?" Alkhoori says. "But then when I sit and think about it, I can't imagine myself on any day without writing. So I guess I just can't break away from it."

^{Zoulfa Katouh's As Long As The Lemon Trees Grow was the first book by a Syrian author to be published by Bloomsbury Publishing and Little, Brown Books for Young Readers.}

And budding authors and writers would do well to heed the words of Hamdan and Alkhoori, because, as Zebian notes, there is an audience that is ready to read diverse stories. "I honestly think there is a real thirst here for more stories, and for events like the Emirates Literature Festival where authors are invited from all over the world," Zebian says. "This is the place where you get to spread these stories and get to have people who are thirsting for these stories to see them. I also think there could be more opportunities for discovering different voices at an event where people attend the entire day and get to listen to someone on stage that they didn't necessarily come to see. I think that would give maybe smaller [Arab female] authors more of an opportunity to have their work spread and to maybe add to someone's understanding of life by sharing a story that the person sitting in the audience didn't think existed."

Now, it is important to note that, so far, the conversation has largely revolved around Arab representation in books written in English. But there is another area of publishing, that if navigated properly, could unearth a treasure of diverse stories and characters by Arab women: translated books. "Obviously no translation will ever do the original justice, which is very sad, because you'll never be able to learn all the languages in the world, but they [translated works] are still extremely important," notes Katouh. "

^{Sara Hamdan's debut novel What Will People Think? comes out May 2025.A scene in the book wona Netflix short story award.}

I've read some translated books -and you can see the difference in the writing style, even when it's translated- but it just opens your mind to literature and a huge history within that text itself. Especially in Arabic! Arabic is an ocean that never ends in terms of literature, so there is so much to translate, and so many stories that can open people's minds to different realms of possibilities."

Alkhoori, on the other hand, believes that books written in Arabic need to become more mainstream for Arab children. "I want children to find Arabic musical to their ears," she says. "Which is why, while I also write in English, my books are primarily in Arabic. I don't want kids to think, 'Oh, Arabic is very school-related.' Because obviously, you know, you have the formal Arabic or Fusha, which is used in newspapers and books And then you have the colloquial Arabic, which obviously there's over 10 dialects of. So children immediately think it's a different language. It's also often a third language they have to learn in school, and that casts a bit of a heaviness on them. So I want them to remember that we wrote books that were easy and smooth, and outgoing. I want them to start preferring to read in Arabic again rather than other languages. That's number one. The second goal would be to try to get bits of the Arab society into the books. So not all of our books have to be very culturally rooted necessarily. Especially as a children's writer, I could write about animals or space and still achieve that. Sometimes it doesn't even have to be through the text, but perhaps through the graphics in the book. Just to show a little bit of identity."

^{Noura Alkhoori's 2013 book Fanteer al Flamingo Al Manfoush (Fanteer, The Fluffy Flamingo) tells the story of a flamingo who gets lost on an excursion in a thicket of mangroves. The book explores themes related to family, identity and community.}

To create a new generation of readers, both Arab and non-Arab, who are more familiar with the stories told by Arab female authors, Hamdan declares that there is now a joint responsibility on the community of female writers and publishers. "So, these days, you already have someone like Isabelle Aboulhoul, who's created the Emirates Literature Foundation and is encouraging young children to read and adults to keep reading," she notes. "Then there's also Ahlam Bolooki, who created the Fellowship. So, it's about women lifting each other up, and we're creating role models as we go."

Ultimately, to keep empowering female Arab writers is to empower an entire global community, concludes Zebian. "Giving these women a platform is, I think, a way to remind Arab women that they have a powerful voice and that they have the ability to make a difference in the world by expressing themselves," she says. "I think it's important to remind every girl and woman that just because what they feel or think hasn't been said yet, it doesn't mean that it's not valid. They can be the ones that say it for the first time, or the ones that echo it because somebody else said it and they really agree with it, and eventually they will all keep wanting to add to that power."

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