Fundamentally is a political comedy novel written by the openly queer author and scholar, Dr. Nussaibah Younis. Published in 2025, the book was almost instantly shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. Despite the fact that Fundamentally, whose protagonist is a bi woman, deals with quite serious topics such as Islamic fundamentalism and terrorism, it’s full of humor and funny moments, including jokes about bisexuality.
Fundamentally follows a young British academic, Nadia Amin, who works for the UN and travels to Iraq to deradicalize former ISIS brides. The Times aptly described Nadia as a “very contemporary fictional heroine” (read: bi, educated, non-white, ex-Muslim) and the book as “Bridget Jones with ISIS brides.”
As a queer person who has many conservative Muslim friends and also covers events in the Middle East as a journalist, I couldn’t help but compare myself to Nadia, whom I found both interesting and, at times, frustrating. Let me explain why. Please note that this review contains some SPOILERS.
Even though she doesn’t use the word “bi” or “bisexual” much, we know that Nadia is openly bi right from the beginning of the novel. She dates both men and women during the course of the story and treats it like something absolutely normal.
In the first chapter, Nadia thinks back to her teenage years, when she hid photos of male movie stars in the pages of her Quran so her strict, conservative mother wouldn’t find them. She even learned to touch herself while looking at those pictures, something that caused major problems with her mum. So, Nadia likes boys. But at the same time, we learn that after her mother found out that she stopped believing in God and the two became estranged, Rosy, Nadia’s then-girlfriend, was the person who emotionally supported her the most. Though Rosy goes on to break Nadia’s heart, something Nadia reminisces about throughout the story, their relationship establishes early on that Nadia is bi, even if she doesn’t throw around the label.
In Iraq, Nadia goes on to date Tom, a conservative former soldier. Despite being what Nadia describes as the “anti-Rosy” because of his rugged masculinity and conservatism, he and Rosy were similar in many ways. Both relationships end up failing because both Tom and Rosy were unable to empathize with how Nadia’s ethnic and religious backgrounds differ from their own.
The novel is mostly dedicated to Nadia’s attempt to save a British ISIS widow, Sara, who joined the Islamic State at the age of 15. Nadia sees in Sara a younger version of herself, leading her to become more personally involved than is appropriate. There was definitely some chemistry between the two young women, such as when Sara openly asks Nadia if she’s “a lesbian” and then looks at her “seductively”. It’s unclear if Sara is also bi and closeted (for obvious reasons) or if she was just playing around.
Ultimately, Nadia and Sara are unable to build a healthy relationship. One part of the story I found especially uncomfortable came when Nadia was trying hard to push a resistant Sarah to go partying, drink alcohol, wear makeup in public, and behave like a “normal Western girl”. As a transmasculine person assigned female at birth who also hates alcohol, makeup, and parties, that scene reminded me of all the hurtful and clumsy ways in which people have tried to push me to be a “normal Western girl” throughout my life. It made Nadia a less sympathetic protagonist in my eyes. It also felt weird and somewhat out of character to see someone as progressive as Nadia show such disregard for Sara’s beliefs and preferences, especially in this case, because abuse survivors are at risk of developing substance abuse problems.
On the other hand, this scene reflected a deeper psychological issue rooted in Nadia’s strained relationship with her mother, whose rejection left Nadia feeling abandoned. As a result, Nadia became emotionally dependent on other people. On top of this, both her mother and Rosy — the two people Nadia was closest with — failed to respect her boundaries, a trait she learned herself. Just as Rosy pushed Sara to party when they were at university, Nadia pushed Sara to party, recreating the same codependent cycle.
Throughout the novel, though, Nadia comes to realise the loop she’s trapped in and passes up the chance at another relationship, deciding to stay single while she works through her issues.
Fundamentally does a great job both at creating complicated bi characters and also capturing the complexities and nuances of the Middle East, all while injecting humor. This isn’t surprising, considering that Dr. Nussaibah Younis is both a queer woman and, like her protagonist Nadia, a globally recognised expert on contemporary Iraq who advised the Iraqi government on proposed rehabilitation programs for women affiliated with ISIS.
When I attended Dr. Younis’s book launch at Juno Books in Sheffield, UK, one of the guests asked her why she decided to make her main character queer.
‘I’m queer,’ Younis said, ‘so why should I make my character straight?’
At a glance, it might seem that the bi representation in Fundamentally leans into negative stereotypes, such as bi people as hypersexual and lewd. On the contrary, the novel does a very good job at normalizing bisexuality. Nadia’s bisexuality is portrayed in the book as something perfectly ordinary and unremarkable, just one part of her personality. For example, she never faces homophobia or biphobia from her co-workers in the UN, some of whom are also gay or bisexual. Yes, she has baggage, and scars, and issues — but so does everyone.
Fundamentally doesn’t show bisexuality as a set of negative stereotypes, nor as some idealised vision of perfection. If bi people are normal, they will have messy problems like all people. Nadia is a real, passionate, funny young woman who makes mistakes, fights with her mother, and tries to do the right thing — someone many queer women and girls may see themselves in.