Yakubu would be a card-carrying feminist if they made Hausa versions, though a Western feminist might expect her heroine to stand on her own, without a man. But family is everything in northern Nigeria, and realizing the strength of this choice means that feminism can also encompass more than narrow, preconceived definitions. Kano, the traditional Muslim city where Yakubu and other writers live and the largest in northern Nigeria, is a few states over and a couple of hours’ drive from the epicenter of the conflict between Boko Haram and the Nigerian Army that jumps in and out of the headlines. When I got there, I sought out writers like Yakubu, as well as other women, not only taking formal portraits but also photographing them during their daily lives. I wanted my photos to run parallel to the novels, so I went to weddings, photographed the kind of dowry exchanges that the books describe at length, and looked for colors and moments that echoed the aesthetics of the books. I looked for happy moments at weddings, sad moments of loss, and, whenever I could get a little closer, I’d look for whimsy, fantasy, escape, and pride. I also wanted my pictures to give a sense of what a place looks like and feels like. In some ways, Kano isn’t a pretty city—it’s grimy, dusty, there’s trash on the streets, and it’s often very hot and uncomfortable. But then I would meet these women wearing such incredibly beautiful clothes, with henna on their hands and soft light falling on their faces. That was what I wanted to capture: the metallic pink of a lipstick, the sequins on a gown, or a book cover on a bedside table. In 2007, the then state governor of Kano publicly burned books and said they were contributing to moral indecency among the youth. (He’s now Nigeria’s minister of education.) The Hisbah, the Islamic morality police, started censoring the books and requiring writers to register with and seek approval from a state censorship board. Just last week, Boko Haram was in the headlines again after a few months of quiet. They burned down a village in northern Nigeria and may have burned children alive. Most of the schoolgirls they abducted en masse from the town of Chibok in 2014 remain missing. Nigeria’s currency fluctuates, and hard times may be ahead. This is the context of these pictures, but it is not the content of these pictures. Sometimes I think I should be photographing those things, but what happens to our understanding of other people and places when the only thing we know is the worst thing that ever happened there? Would we have different priorities and ideas about the world around us if we also knew what kind of lipstick women wear, what a wedding looks like, and what they draw on the cover of their romance novels? Glenna Gordon is publishing a book of these photos and stories called Diagram of the Heart. It comes out on February 11. In keeping with the theme of love, Proof has also featured Gordon’s photographs of Nigerian weddings. See them here. ALL PHOTOGRAPHS BY GLENNA GORDON Author Hadiza Sani Garba works on her novels in bed or in her sitting room, writing by hand in small composition books. BY GLENNA GORDON PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 9, 2016 • 9 MIN READ Novelist Farida Ado at her home Stacks of books are piled up in a storage room in Kano before they’re taken to the market. Littattafan soyayya covers During the wedding fatiha ceremony of a village girl, a contract is announced and the men of the village say prayers and recite blessings. Women rarely interact with men who are not their relatives.