Woof, this book was a lot, in the best possible way. I don't usually read a lot of nonfiction, but a really good memoir is an exception, and this is a really, really good memoir. Sinclair's story is about being raised in a strict, patriarchal household, and although the specifics of having a Rastafari father and upbringing may not resonate with everyone (and certainly one hopes the violence and abuse Sinclair, her siblings, her mother experienced is not everyone's experience), the themes are universal. Societies putting different expectations and restrictions on girls and boys, sexualizing girls at a young age, policing their bodies and beings, and blaming them for any sexual violence men inflict upon them. Patriarchs of a family expecting their wives and daughters to be both wives and daughters: having no needs at all, never criticizing or demanding respect from the "man of the household," and their lives revolving around satisfying the man. Chafing at the strictures of the life and world you are raised in and trying to escape with any means possible. A family attempting to heal horrible, devastating ruptures in their very fabric and laying the groundwork for healthier families in the future. Sinclair captures all of this absolutely breathtakingly, with immense compassion for her younger self (and with more compassion than I could ever muster in her situation for her father) and a voice that is so grounded and evocative. Despite this book being heavy at times, I was glued to it and couldn't stop reading. There is something hopeful about this story: Sinclair and her family do eventually break free of their traumatic upbringing, and they strive to do better for future generations. This is a beautiful, unflinching, triumphant story, and I highly recommend it to everyone.