“Silence is not simply the absence of noise; it is a language. And, as with all languages, it has to be learnt” writes Christina Fonthes in her stunning debut novel, Where You Go, I Will Go (9).

The novel grapples with this notion of silence as a language to be learned through a multigenerational narrative that unpacks African identity and familial relationships, strained by years of unaddressed generational trauma.

The story follows two women from different generations, Mira and Bijoux, who live on opposite sides of the world. Mira, who we are first introduced to as a rebellious 16-year-old girl living in 1980s Kinshasa, Congo, is burdened by the trauma of her past. As she ages and grows over the course of the novel, her life is marked by persistent regret and shame suppressed by her assumed silence.

Across the sea and decades later in early 2000s England, Bijoux is a lesbian woman, scared to come out as gay due to her religious family’s violently homophobic views. Her family and church community believe that Bijoux’s lesbian identity is “unAfrican,” leading her to repress her sexuality with a wavering silence that mirrors Mira’s (83).

With the characterization of both Mira and Bijoux, Fonthes eloquently dissects African, and more specifically, Congolese identity through various modes.

One aspect of the novel that I found to be especially powerful is the exploration of African lesbian identity. The discussions surrounding queer African identity in the novel are unequivocally groundbreaking. Fonthes challenges the idea that queerness and African-ness are mutually exclusive. She explores the intersectional Congolese lesbian identity through representations of intimate relationships between Congolese women, which are sorely missing in the African literary mainstream. While reading, I deeply appreciated the way Fonthes constructs a representation of queer African people that is distinct from Western-centered representations of queerness.

To me, the novel reads like a work of historical fiction as much as a character-driven work of literary fiction. The author does not shy away from writing about the history of political turmoil and violence in Congo. As I read, the reverberations of Belgian and French colonization in Congo were felt throughout the narrative. Many scenes in the novel emphasize the immigrant African diasporic communities that are present in Europe, specifically England, Belgium, and France.

“If Brussels is like Matongé in Kinshasa, then Paris is the whole of Africa. Here, the streets are infused with accents from Algiers to Yaoundé, and the Exotique Boutiques crowded with Africans and Antilleans hunting for creams and lotions that will not dry out their skin, for ingredients that will give them a scent, a taste of home” writes Fonthes (139). These communities, filled with a variety of African accents, languages, and dialects, are integral to the novel. Like Mira and Bijoux, the people of these communities carry their own silences, bred from violence, fleeing their homes, political subjugation, and poverty.

I found myself learning about the historical events that ground the overall narrative and understanding the history of Congo in the late 20th and early 21st centuries on a deeper level. In the novel, Congo is a character in and of itself. It is a place of history and a home that is loved, missed, and craved.

I enjoyed how Fonthes complicates the relationship between African communities and Christianity through her depiction of corrupt religious institutions. She shows how these institutions contribute to the silencing of women and the abuses they have faced while also perpetuating deep-rooted homophobia. Despite her condemnation of these institutions, her portrayal of religion is not black and white. The title of the novel, a phrase that is repeated affectionately by the women in the story, is itself a bible verse. Fonthes takes a biblical phrase and detaches its use from harmful religious institutions to spread ideas about love and loyalty: “Family or no family, where you go, I will go” (354).

The compelling prose in the novel is important to note. The author’s writing captures the wistfulness of the story, making you feel like you are not only watching these two women’s narratives unfold, but you are living their lives with them and breathing their experiences in. Fonthes employs metaphor and descriptive language in a way that is striking but not heavy-handed. She ties narrative threads together beautifully and uses dynamic, recurring motifs to show the power of memories.

I finished this novel feeling deeply impressed and enlightened. Ultimately, Where You Go, I Will Go is a novel about overcoming silence. It is about what is represented, what is erased, what is silenced, and what is unspoken.

Where You Go, I Will Go is a must-read.

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