What do you think?
Rate this book
Sorry, Not Sorry: Experiences of a brown woman in a white South Africa
Why don’t white people understand that Converse tekkies are not just cool but a political statement to people of colour? Why is it that South Africans of colour don’t really ‘write what we like’? What’s the deal with people pretending to be ‘woke’? Is Islam really as antifeminist as is claimed? What does it feel like to be a brown woman in a white media corporation? And what life lessons can we learn from Bollywood movies?
In Sorry, Not Sorry, Haji Mohamed Dawjee explores the often maddening experience of moving through post-apartheid South Africa as a woman of colour. In characteristically candid style, she pulls no punches when examining the social landscape: from arguing why she’d rather deal with an open racist than some liberal white people, to drawing on her own experience to convince readers that joining a cult is never a good idea. In the provocative voice that has made Mohamed Dawjee one of our country’s most talked-about columnists, she offers observations laced with an acerbic wit. Sorry, Not Sorry will make readers laugh, wince, nod, introspect and argue.
In Sorry, Not Sorry, Haji Mohamed Dawjee explores the often maddening experience of moving through post-apartheid South Africa as a woman of colour. In characteristically candid style, she pulls no punches when examining the social landscape: from arguing why she’d rather deal with an open racist than some liberal white people, to drawing on her own experience to convince readers that joining a cult is never a good idea. In the provocative voice that has made Mohamed Dawjee one of our country’s most talked-about columnists, she offers observations laced with an acerbic wit. Sorry, Not Sorry will make readers laugh, wince, nod, introspect and argue.
218 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 1, 2018
6 people are currently reading
194 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
July 26, 2018
A humorous excerpt from this book made me want to read it. And I laughed, in parts, but I also felt anger, despair, happiness and relief. The most powerful benefit that I got out of reading this, however, is that it has made me think and question. Dawjee, a brown woman and Muslim married to a white woman, really has the odds stacked against her when it comes to being on the receiving end of prejudice. She rails against racism and white privilege and its pervasiveness in general but she also shares where it has affected her directly. She also writes about her childhood, her family and her struggle with depression. Her writing is fiery and eloquent in the way she gets her point across.
I read the book slowly, a few chapters at a time, to absorb and savour what I was reading but it can just as easily be read in a day.
Book Extract: Sorry, Not Sorry
I read the book slowly, a few chapters at a time, to absorb and savour what I was reading but it can just as easily be read in a day.
Book Extract: Sorry, Not Sorry
May 12, 2022
Let me make something clear upfront: if you're a white person, this is going to be a deeply uncomfortable read at times. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't read it. On the contrary, you probably need a slap upside the head to burst some of your rosy stereotypes and narrow world views. Ms Dawjee is cynical, brutal, and couldn't care about your offended sensibilities. But she writes beautifully, and if you breathe deeply, and listen to what she is saying instead of getting all defensive, there is much to learn from this book. And that's probably the biggest lesson for white people as a species: stop talking. Start listening. 5/5 would recommend.
May 4, 2018
Frank, funny game-changer of a book. Haji says the things you're afraid to say, even to yourself, and her storytelling skills are exceptional.
August 21, 2018
This is a tough book to rate because part of me somehow feels whatever I say will be interpreted as coming from a place of white superiority and ignorance and be both condescending and racist.
So now that that is out of the way: sorry, not sorry.
I am not sure how I was supposed to interpret the tone of some of these stories. Some of them contained some quite sweeping generalisations and hyperbole and I wasn't always sure whether that was done on purpose (to try create humour/satire) or whether that's truly what Haji thinks about life.
I will admit, the ones that didn't hit a nerve (e.g. were about life as a Muslim female or about her granddad or about her experiences with depression or even about feminism) were easier for me to consume. The ones where I was told merely trying to understand/empathise makes me woke (WTF is woke?) and condescending were a little less easy to grapple with. (And, then, pretty soon after, as if she has read my mind, she states how I as a white person will protest that "I am different".)
I guess overall this made me feel sad and helpless and that nothing I can ever say or do will make a difference to where society finds itself because everything I say or do outside of my immediate white circle will be wrong or condescending because I am white. So if I have a mental illness, but am white, I can't talk to non-white people about having a mental illness. If I am oppressed or abused because I am female, I can't talk about my experiences as a female because I am white. If I am persecuted for my religion (or lack thereof), sorry for me - I'm white. It doesn't count.
I think this is a brave book. And I am glad she found her voice and used it. Lots of people are not going to like it. And I guess she will say (if she ever read this review) that it is exactly what she would have expected someone like me to write.
So now that that is out of the way: sorry, not sorry.
I am not sure how I was supposed to interpret the tone of some of these stories. Some of them contained some quite sweeping generalisations and hyperbole and I wasn't always sure whether that was done on purpose (to try create humour/satire) or whether that's truly what Haji thinks about life.
I will admit, the ones that didn't hit a nerve (e.g. were about life as a Muslim female or about her granddad or about her experiences with depression or even about feminism) were easier for me to consume. The ones where I was told merely trying to understand/empathise makes me woke (WTF is woke?) and condescending were a little less easy to grapple with. (And, then, pretty soon after, as if she has read my mind, she states how I as a white person will protest that "I am different".)
I guess overall this made me feel sad and helpless and that nothing I can ever say or do will make a difference to where society finds itself because everything I say or do outside of my immediate white circle will be wrong or condescending because I am white. So if I have a mental illness, but am white, I can't talk to non-white people about having a mental illness. If I am oppressed or abused because I am female, I can't talk about my experiences as a female because I am white. If I am persecuted for my religion (or lack thereof), sorry for me - I'm white. It doesn't count.
I think this is a brave book. And I am glad she found her voice and used it. Lots of people are not going to like it. And I guess she will say (if she ever read this review) that it is exactly what she would have expected someone like me to write.
December 6, 2018
Loved, loved reading this. A lot of what she writes to just struck me with it's familiarity to being brown in South Africa. It's without a doubt a read that will speak to PoC, with a lot of white tears from the non-PoC. As I was reading it I was sharing lines from it with friends, it was a busy afternoon - this it a great one sitting read that leaves you feeling energised.
October 20, 2019
Loved it. Haji is extremely funny and witty. I found myself laughing out loud at some paragraphs. There's so much truth to this story. I had so many "OMG yes" moments.
June 5, 2018
4.5 stars. (The missing half is a common gripe of mine with these essay-type books - I like the sense of a uniting thread through the stories - beyond the overarching theme.) An important book for women, particularly white women, to read if they live in SA. I think many women these days are reaching a tipping point in terms of inequality (in all forms - think #metoo and #timesup, etc.) but not all of us can do it as eloquently or movingly as Dawjee. Some chapters touched me more than others, but I enjoyed them all. This is now doing the rounds in my bookclub. Thanks to the editor for letting me know about the book launch!
November 18, 2018
Brown, in the title refers to a South African of Indian origin. Some of Dawjee's experiences, however, are universal, South African Blacks and "Coloureds" can also resonate . Dawjee is to be commended for this distinction in a back drop of a history where experiences of apartheid by various racial groups were horrible, but not quite the same. And it acknowledges the fact that different races, are at liberty to refer to themselves however they feel comfortable. It is a personal matter.
My first experience of Dawjee, was in 2016 from the book "Writing What We Like" by Yolisa Qunta. Her submission titled "Maid In South Africa" which she expands on in "Sorry but Not Sorry" was fresh, daring, unapologetic and straight forward. After observing activities at a park in Parkhurst Johannesburg, she wrote ".... I also find it highly unlikely that any domestic worker has ever agreed to care for someone else's child so that her employer can spend more time with a dog".... "it begs asking : why can you walk your dog, but not your child?"
In the 20 autobiographical essays , Dawjee is reflective, radical, controversial, firm, and does not mince her words. She calls a spade a spade. She is clearly not on a mission to stroke anybody's ego. In this coming of age, and coming out narration, she gives a moving tribute to her dad, mom and grandfather. She affords in depth and interesting insights on feminism, Bollywood, Islam, race, mental illness, marriage, queerness, corporate, and literature.
I resonated fully with Dawjee's politics, that institutional racism is the monster in the room, more covert and insidious in post democratic SA. I also agree with her sentiment that it is not in white people's place to dictate nor to control in matters of transformation and equality. Their role as beneficiaries of apartheid and privilege disqualifies them. They had spoken and were in charge for more than 350 years, and now it is time for whiteness to keep quiet and listen. She tackles matters of race that many would dare not address , lest white people get upset, or for fear of victimization.
Sorry Not Sorry also highlights how, during the rainbow nation euphoria, putting our kids in white institutions of learning was tantamount to putting them in a lion's den that created "race based trauma" that permeates to adult life.
The overall subject of racial discrimination is inexhaustible. We can't, won't, refrain from discussing it especially whilst such still exist. It can't be over, nor can we get over it whilst it still haunts us. That said, I highly recommend Sorry Not Sorry. The caliber of young people like Dawjee who's political context is on point, who refuse to be intimidated and silenced, is to be encouraged and supported 100 %.
Whites in general, and whitesplainers from other racial groups will take issue of the contents of the book, but Dawjee is not fazed, as intimated in her powerful "Sorry But Not Sorry Manifesto" at the end of the book.
My first experience of Dawjee, was in 2016 from the book "Writing What We Like" by Yolisa Qunta. Her submission titled "Maid In South Africa" which she expands on in "Sorry but Not Sorry" was fresh, daring, unapologetic and straight forward. After observing activities at a park in Parkhurst Johannesburg, she wrote ".... I also find it highly unlikely that any domestic worker has ever agreed to care for someone else's child so that her employer can spend more time with a dog".... "it begs asking : why can you walk your dog, but not your child?"
In the 20 autobiographical essays , Dawjee is reflective, radical, controversial, firm, and does not mince her words. She calls a spade a spade. She is clearly not on a mission to stroke anybody's ego. In this coming of age, and coming out narration, she gives a moving tribute to her dad, mom and grandfather. She affords in depth and interesting insights on feminism, Bollywood, Islam, race, mental illness, marriage, queerness, corporate, and literature.
I resonated fully with Dawjee's politics, that institutional racism is the monster in the room, more covert and insidious in post democratic SA. I also agree with her sentiment that it is not in white people's place to dictate nor to control in matters of transformation and equality. Their role as beneficiaries of apartheid and privilege disqualifies them. They had spoken and were in charge for more than 350 years, and now it is time for whiteness to keep quiet and listen. She tackles matters of race that many would dare not address , lest white people get upset, or for fear of victimization.
Sorry Not Sorry also highlights how, during the rainbow nation euphoria, putting our kids in white institutions of learning was tantamount to putting them in a lion's den that created "race based trauma" that permeates to adult life.
The overall subject of racial discrimination is inexhaustible. We can't, won't, refrain from discussing it especially whilst such still exist. It can't be over, nor can we get over it whilst it still haunts us. That said, I highly recommend Sorry Not Sorry. The caliber of young people like Dawjee who's political context is on point, who refuse to be intimidated and silenced, is to be encouraged and supported 100 %.
Whites in general, and whitesplainers from other racial groups will take issue of the contents of the book, but Dawjee is not fazed, as intimated in her powerful "Sorry But Not Sorry Manifesto" at the end of the book.
November 19, 2018
I think I am in love; with the author, the book, her story, her...
Haji is a well-versed woman of colour - I say well-versed in the same way Ferrial Haffejee says 'woke' in the Forward. It is very rare to see young women who are aware of what is going on around them and even more rare to find a role model who is actually attuned to the plights of young brown women today. This is also important to understand before reading her essays; it is not for the fake-deep, slay queens and kings - although I wish it were. It is in essence;
A letter to the woke-whites and pseudo-Biko's. Dear White People, we are definitely not sorry!
This book is crucial, from the very first essay, in letting people of colour understand that the plight of being black is only a 'plight' because white people make it so. Haji stresses that we are not obligated to be writers/artists who only write about suffering or feel obligated to carry the yolk of enlightening other black people on the price of our freedom - don't we all know it - instead, she urges us to be more like Biko and to write whatever [the fuck] we like.
My favourite essays are, 'Don't touch me on my takkies' and 'Begging to be white'. In them, Haji discusses issues of white privilege and cultural appropriation, to put it simply. In the latter, she lists various things she would do if she were white, one of them being that she would save money by taking a gap year instead of buying spices. The statement on its own sounds absurd but, the opportunity cost afforded to white privilege is marginal compared to what most black people would have to sacrifice to take a gap year. An education for example - taking a gap year would mean living a 'gap life'; don't do it.
This book is a significant milestone in understanding the essence of being a brown woman in post-apartheid South Africa. The layers to our humanity as beings who wear labels they never opted for and still having to go through life while fighting white daemons of structural, institutional and 'subtle' racism. Or as Haji puts it, suffering by the hand of "good whites" - the ones who want to help us become more integrated in their rainbow nation.
This book is for all the things you would like to say to your white colleague but can't because you need the job. It is for all those times they said things like, "why don't you guys just move on and let it go?" Well, Haji wrote it so that you don't have to. Get them a gift basket filled with ama kip kip, a quart of Black and a copy of Haji's, Sorry, not Sorry and tell them to come back when they have found all the answers they need - because there is nothing white people like more than being rewarded for the stupid shit they say.
RATING: 9/10 - "Kill Your Darlings" - Thank You Hawee Dawee, for writing what you like
Haji is a well-versed woman of colour - I say well-versed in the same way Ferrial Haffejee says 'woke' in the Forward. It is very rare to see young women who are aware of what is going on around them and even more rare to find a role model who is actually attuned to the plights of young brown women today. This is also important to understand before reading her essays; it is not for the fake-deep, slay queens and kings - although I wish it were. It is in essence;
A letter to the woke-whites and pseudo-Biko's. Dear White People, we are definitely not sorry!
This book is crucial, from the very first essay, in letting people of colour understand that the plight of being black is only a 'plight' because white people make it so. Haji stresses that we are not obligated to be writers/artists who only write about suffering or feel obligated to carry the yolk of enlightening other black people on the price of our freedom - don't we all know it - instead, she urges us to be more like Biko and to write whatever [the fuck] we like.
My favourite essays are, 'Don't touch me on my takkies' and 'Begging to be white'. In them, Haji discusses issues of white privilege and cultural appropriation, to put it simply. In the latter, she lists various things she would do if she were white, one of them being that she would save money by taking a gap year instead of buying spices. The statement on its own sounds absurd but, the opportunity cost afforded to white privilege is marginal compared to what most black people would have to sacrifice to take a gap year. An education for example - taking a gap year would mean living a 'gap life'; don't do it.
This book is a significant milestone in understanding the essence of being a brown woman in post-apartheid South Africa. The layers to our humanity as beings who wear labels they never opted for and still having to go through life while fighting white daemons of structural, institutional and 'subtle' racism. Or as Haji puts it, suffering by the hand of "good whites" - the ones who want to help us become more integrated in their rainbow nation.
This book is for all the things you would like to say to your white colleague but can't because you need the job. It is for all those times they said things like, "why don't you guys just move on and let it go?" Well, Haji wrote it so that you don't have to. Get them a gift basket filled with ama kip kip, a quart of Black and a copy of Haji's, Sorry, not Sorry and tell them to come back when they have found all the answers they need - because there is nothing white people like more than being rewarded for the stupid shit they say.
RATING: 9/10 - "Kill Your Darlings" - Thank You Hawee Dawee, for writing what you like
April 28, 2018
3.5 but I rounded up. This is a wildly inconsistent collection -- some of the pieces are just fantastic, on both the political and personal sides, but too many feel dashed off and inconclusive (the Nelson Mandela one stood out; it feels like it just ends out of nowhere, with none of the thoughts or themes it touches upon connected to one another). The call-outs of "woke" white culture are useful and important, but they don't go further than the general current discourse on this issue, which disappointed me--again, this may be a factor of the essays being so short. I could have read about 10 more pages of, "We don't really write what we like" and "Sorry, not sorry." It's also not really South African-centric, except in spots? Which I suppose makes it more useful, but I thought there was a lot of ZA-issues that might have been touched on and explored more directly.
July 22, 2018
3.5 but rounded up to 4. Some of the essays and I loved and others not so much. Haji's style of writing I find easy to read and I found her viewpoint thought provoking. I understand a lot of what she says comes from her passed experiences and living as "brown women" (her classification of herself) in apartheid and post apartheid area. This is her personal experience and one has to read it that way. If you do you'll enjoy it.
January 20, 2021
Absolutely amazing... very well written in a quirky manner which is both contemporary and young. I enjoyed the depiction of emotions carried by the author. Paints a clear picture of how people of colour especially women are still marginalised.
I bought books for friends after reading it. Love it
I bought books for friends after reading it. Love it
August 2, 2022
I first heard about Haji Mohamed Dawjee on Facebook and really wanted to connect with her, but I didn't get the chance. Now that I read the book and loved how real and raw it was, I feel like I know her. Thank you Haji, thank you for telling it like it is.
May 22, 2018
profoundly true....light hearted, funny .beautifully written. well done Haji
April 4, 2022
D for Dawjee
2022 alphabet-of-african-authors
2022 alphabet-of-african-authors
April 15, 2025
Sorry, not sorry, but no...
March 17, 2019
A number of essays in this book had me yaaasing loudly. I also spend some time really laughing because Haji’s funny. The essay that starts the book opens like this ‘No one owns their stories and the telling of them like white male writers. They are given endless opportunities for it. They can write about anything. They can pen rants about white-men problems and white men-wealth.’ The funniest for me was the end of the paragraph where Haji writes : ‘But the cherry on the vanilla cake is that they also get to write the soft, sensitive, soulful stuff. You know?’
July 25, 2018
Deep and reflective window into the life experiences of a brown woman in South Africa.
Was tremendously moved by some of the stories, and made to reflected on my relationship with brown people in South Africa.
I especially loved the story of about her mother, and her own form of feminism.
Was tremendously moved by some of the stories, and made to reflected on my relationship with brown people in South Africa.
I especially loved the story of about her mother, and her own form of feminism.
October 19, 2019
Loved it. Haji is extremely funny and witty. I found myself laughing out loud at some paragraphs. There's so much truth to this story. I had so many "OMG yes" moments.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews