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A Dutiful Boy: A Memoir of Secrets, Lies and Family Love
A coming of age memoir about growing up queer in a strict Muslim household.
Mohsin grew up in a poor pocket of east London, in a devout shia Muslim community. His family were close-knit and religiously conservative. From a young age, Mohsin felt different but in a home where being gay was inconceivable he also felt very alone.
Outside of home Mohsin went to a failing inner city school where gang violence was a fact of life. As he grew up life didn't seem to offer teenage Mohsin any choices: he was disenfranchised from opportunity and isolated from his family as a closet gay Muslim.
But Mohsin had incredible drive and became the first person from his school to go to Oxford University. At university came the newfound freedom to become the man his parents never wanted him to be. But when he was confronted by his father and a witch doctor invited to 'cure' him Mohsin had to make a difficult choice.
Mohsin's story takes harrowing turns but it is full of life and humour, and, ultimately, it is an inspiring story about breaking through life's barriers.
Mohsin grew up in a poor pocket of east London, in a devout shia Muslim community. His family were close-knit and religiously conservative. From a young age, Mohsin felt different but in a home where being gay was inconceivable he also felt very alone.
Outside of home Mohsin went to a failing inner city school where gang violence was a fact of life. As he grew up life didn't seem to offer teenage Mohsin any choices: he was disenfranchised from opportunity and isolated from his family as a closet gay Muslim.
But Mohsin had incredible drive and became the first person from his school to go to Oxford University. At university came the newfound freedom to become the man his parents never wanted him to be. But when he was confronted by his father and a witch doctor invited to 'cure' him Mohsin had to make a difficult choice.
Mohsin's story takes harrowing turns but it is full of life and humour, and, ultimately, it is an inspiring story about breaking through life's barriers.
288 pages, Paperback
First published August 20, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 347 reviews
February 8, 2024
"Well, I'm Muslim... and I'm gay."
This was not what I was expecting even after seeing it under the LGBT genre. It was so much more.
This was not what I was expecting even after seeing it under the LGBT genre. It was so much more.
March 21, 2021
Okay, so this floored me. The story of Moshin Zaidi’s life is not only heartbreaking in places, eye opening for me in others, but ultimately ends in sending messages of hope. In parts I fought to hold back my tears and it affected me on a personal level, in particular with regards to his Uncle Tier.
This will stay with me ❤️
This will stay with me ❤️
February 12, 2021
One of the best memoirs I've read in a long time, A Dutiful Boy is a must read for everyone across ages, gender, culture and beliefs. Mohsin Zaidi is an epitome of a real catalyst of change starting from his own sexual identity to becoming a lawyer and advocating equality and justice for all. I admire his audacity and perserverance despite insurmountable barriers between his family and his own happiness. With your story Mohsin, you created a place for hope, acceptance, diversity and inclusivity, validating people for who they are and not who they should be. Thank you! 👏
February 13, 2021
A memoir that really shines bright in its message and leaves you feeling so hopeful and warm you can’t help but love it.
Mohsin is the child of Pakistani Muslim parents growing up in London on the breadline. As we follow his childhood and his realisation and acceptance regarding his sexuality; we follow the highs and lows this brings with remarkable frankness.
I flew through this whilst at work. It was gripping, emotional and a voice that I desperately needed to hear. Listening to this on audio really heightened the experience.
Mohsin is the child of Pakistani Muslim parents growing up in London on the breadline. As we follow his childhood and his realisation and acceptance regarding his sexuality; we follow the highs and lows this brings with remarkable frankness.
I flew through this whilst at work. It was gripping, emotional and a voice that I desperately needed to hear. Listening to this on audio really heightened the experience.
August 22, 2020
This is a beautiful and brilliant memoir all about religion, faith, family, sexuality and a story of a young man finding acceptance. Beautifully written too and an important book that could and will save lives. We need more stories like Moshin's. I loved it.
September 4, 2020
An eloquent and beautiful memoir. It made me laugh and it made me cry (on the tube as well, which is quite a sight when wearing a face mask). Deeply touching, I highly recommend it.
January 23, 2023
Being that this is the first memoir I have read, and supremely well written one at that, I was unprepared to experience a parasocial relationship on steroids. I would binge chapter after chapter of this book, because I hung on their every word and felt like I knew them intimately by the end. To have struggled so hard and for so long with religion, culture, family and sexuality for acceptance and love, while achieving so much, is inspirational and worthy of admiration. This is an amazing book and I highly recommend reading it.
June 20, 2021
Stunning! The best memoir I have read in a long time.
April 12, 2023
An expertly crafted memoir! Mohsin captures the struggle and pain of feeling unable to "come out" like no other.
February 21, 2023
Well written and relatable in many different ways, despite being such a unique story. Brought me to tears at multiple different points, both sad and happy. By far my favourite read of 2023 so far!
November 14, 2023
fokin el.
I genuinely do not know what to say except wow.
such an important important important book. the number of books in this particular genre is lacking and its so so fucking nice to just read something and feel seen. I underlined so many parts that are so relatable and so funny and so sad because they're true.
I welled up at so many parts and mostly tears of sadness but the 'rainbow laces' got tears of joy out of me.
it's all a work in progress, his family and his life. and it was really really nice to see this and to read this - i ate it tf up in two days. its exciting and it gives me hope and it's very touching.
a must must read
I genuinely do not know what to say except wow.
such an important important important book. the number of books in this particular genre is lacking and its so so fucking nice to just read something and feel seen. I underlined so many parts that are so relatable and so funny and so sad because they're true.
I welled up at so many parts and mostly tears of sadness but the 'rainbow laces' got tears of joy out of me.
it's all a work in progress, his family and his life. and it was really really nice to see this and to read this - i ate it tf up in two days. its exciting and it gives me hope and it's very touching.
a must must read
January 28, 2023
i haven’t yet found the right words to describe what this book did to me and maybe i never will, but my god. it is such a beautiful portrayal of how messy life can be and how patience & courage can take you such a long way <3 i want to give this man a hug, i know this book will stay with me for a long, long time.
September 10, 2020
God, this is a beautiful, moving, often painfully relatable book. A really important work of LGBTQ+ storytelling that I genuinely think will save lives.
May 7, 2024
Incredibly moving, insightful and uplifting memoir.
Zaidi writes about the sense of unbelonging he felt from growing up in a Muslim Pakistani family in a hostile England, from being a working class East Londoner at Oxford University, and from being a criminal barrister with brown skin, frequently mistaken for his clients. The only real sense of belonging he feels for a long time is within his religiously conservative family, which is why he struggles to come out to them as gay because he knows for certain that it will create a huge rift.
This is a compassionate and forgiving love letter to his parents, particularly his mother. He helped me to understand why his parents felt the need to cling to their traditional view of family. Not all of their attitudes are tied to religion or culture - they also stem from their experiences in a council house in 80s Britain in the face of economic and racial exclusion.
It deals with heavy subject matter, including bullying, racism, internalised homophobia and suicidal thoughts, but it's also uplifting and funny. He finds community with his friends, and hope in the changing attitudes of younger people. And he finds romantic love with the man who is now his husband.
To give an example of the humour in the book: Zaidi recounts an event for parents of LGBT South Asians which turns into a bragging contest about how successful their children are and his mum whispers to him "Shall I drop the Oxford bomb?".
Favourite quotes:
"Although I had never yelled at my parents at that moment I wanted to. I held back, reminding myself how isolated they must feel. I'd left my community, but I had found another. They did not have this option. They couldn't tell some of their siblings, their living parents, nor their network of friends. I had an instinctive need to protect them, which made it difficult to get angry."
Zaidi writes about the sense of unbelonging he felt from growing up in a Muslim Pakistani family in a hostile England, from being a working class East Londoner at Oxford University, and from being a criminal barrister with brown skin, frequently mistaken for his clients. The only real sense of belonging he feels for a long time is within his religiously conservative family, which is why he struggles to come out to them as gay because he knows for certain that it will create a huge rift.
This is a compassionate and forgiving love letter to his parents, particularly his mother. He helped me to understand why his parents felt the need to cling to their traditional view of family. Not all of their attitudes are tied to religion or culture - they also stem from their experiences in a council house in 80s Britain in the face of economic and racial exclusion.
It deals with heavy subject matter, including bullying, racism, internalised homophobia and suicidal thoughts, but it's also uplifting and funny. He finds community with his friends, and hope in the changing attitudes of younger people. And he finds romantic love with the man who is now his husband.
To give an example of the humour in the book: Zaidi recounts an event for parents of LGBT South Asians which turns into a bragging contest about how successful their children are and his mum whispers to him "Shall I drop the Oxford bomb?".
Favourite quotes:
"Although I had never yelled at my parents at that moment I wanted to. I held back, reminding myself how isolated they must feel. I'd left my community, but I had found another. They did not have this option. They couldn't tell some of their siblings, their living parents, nor their network of friends. I had an instinctive need to protect them, which made it difficult to get angry."
February 17, 2022
This book breaks your heart to bits, then repairs it like one of those Japanese bowls gold-glued back together. I've read quite a few stories of Mormon LGBTQ people coming to terms with their sexuality and religion, but the author of this book is Mulim, and it might be even harder than for Mormons. So much guilt, self-loathing, and pain. It's amazing that coming out to his family, finally, is what starts to heal his life. Unfortunately, they did not take it well, his mother especially. They did finally come around, but it was a painful story until then.
Here is a quote I liked, from his parents who finally accepted him as gay, and his partner.
“We have so little time with our loved ones. Why waste it? God created my son this way and it is me who had the problem, not him.’ I was stunned. My dad, noticing the tremble in my mum’s voice, shuffled closer and put his arm around her.
‘Children are not ours to disown,’ he said. ‘My son is not hurting anyone. He is a good person. I don’t care what anybody says. I know that Allah loves him like I do.”
I got this free ebook from zlibrary. Neither my local library, nor Overdrive had it.
Here is a quote I liked, from his parents who finally accepted him as gay, and his partner.
“We have so little time with our loved ones. Why waste it? God created my son this way and it is me who had the problem, not him.’ I was stunned. My dad, noticing the tremble in my mum’s voice, shuffled closer and put his arm around her.
‘Children are not ours to disown,’ he said. ‘My son is not hurting anyone. He is a good person. I don’t care what anybody says. I know that Allah loves him like I do.”
I got this free ebook from zlibrary. Neither my local library, nor Overdrive had it.
March 20, 2021
When I saw the title of this memoir, I assumed it was ironic. A tongue in cheek sarcastic remark: “yeah of course I’m totally a dutiful boy, a dutiful gay Muslim boy”. I thought the whole book would show someone coming to terms with their true identity and letting go of their incompatible roots as part of the process of growing up. That’s usually what happens to people who go through what Mohsin went through. I’ve thought about similar things, of cutting off people close to me who I think won’t support me as I appear to change my beliefs and lifestyle.
What I didn’t expect was that the title, and the whole book, was totally sincere in its use of the adjective “dutiful”. Mohsin tries so hard to maintain his relationship with his parents, even through their apparent crisis in having a gay son. I suppose his story is a rarity. Nevertheless it’s important to hear a story about never giving up on family.
What I didn’t expect was that the title, and the whole book, was totally sincere in its use of the adjective “dutiful”. Mohsin tries so hard to maintain his relationship with his parents, even through their apparent crisis in having a gay son. I suppose his story is a rarity. Nevertheless it’s important to hear a story about never giving up on family.
June 6, 2021
Beautiful written and intensely moving.
August 31, 2021
Really heart warming memoir by Mohsin.
The book is very well written. The reader can empathize with each and every emotion of the author.
The book takes us through the life of Mohsin as he grows up in a Pakistani home in London. It explains the struggles of growing up in a poor brown family. The troubles are compounded by sexuality of Mohsin.
There are so many dimensions that the author explored. He talked about religion, class, race, sexuality and family.
The book also explores different parts of Mohsin's life and his constant wish to bring them all together. He is an Oxford educated gay barrister Muslim with Pakistani heritage married to an Irish guy.
Must read!!
The book is very well written. The reader can empathize with each and every emotion of the author.
The book takes us through the life of Mohsin as he grows up in a Pakistani home in London. It explains the struggles of growing up in a poor brown family. The troubles are compounded by sexuality of Mohsin.
There are so many dimensions that the author explored. He talked about religion, class, race, sexuality and family.
The book also explores different parts of Mohsin's life and his constant wish to bring them all together. He is an Oxford educated gay barrister Muslim with Pakistani heritage married to an Irish guy.
Must read!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 15, 2023
I wish this was available when I was a lot younger and struggling with my Identity and religion/culture!! Parts of this book were so relatable and made me feel like I wasn’t alone when reading through Mohsin’s journey compared to mine. I hope that future generations pick this book up and it empowers them to be their authentic selves and create their own successful stories like Mohsins.
January 7, 2021
A moving and heartfelt memoir. Absolutely recommend!
April 29, 2022
This wasn’t on my radar. I had no idea this book was out in the world. It was recommended to be by my bestie. This was a great memoir, heartbreaking at times, interesting and eye opening at times. I found it relatable to some degree, putting aside the religious aspect of this memoir, I think many people would find it relatable. It’s about coming to terms with one’s identity, one’s sexual identity and where that fits in, in a world that says being gay is sinful, and makes you a bad person. It’s about reconciling one’s feelings, about acceptance, family obligation and expectations and living life to meet these expectations. Ultimately it’s about reaching a point of self-love, because to love someone else, you have to love yourself first. I highly recommend this.
“We have so little time with our loved ones. Why waste it? God created my son this way and it is me who had the problem, not him.’ I was stunned. My dad, noticing the tremble in my mum’s voice, shuffled closer and put his arm around her.
‘Children are not ours to disown,’ he said. ‘My son is not hurting anyone. He is a good person. I don’t care what anybody says. I know that Allah loves him like I do.”
“We have so little time with our loved ones. Why waste it? God created my son this way and it is me who had the problem, not him.’ I was stunned. My dad, noticing the tremble in my mum’s voice, shuffled closer and put his arm around her.
‘Children are not ours to disown,’ he said. ‘My son is not hurting anyone. He is a good person. I don’t care what anybody says. I know that Allah loves him like I do.”
March 2, 2021
One of the best memoirs I've read in a long time; I have already recommended it to all my friends ... Truly enjoyed every line of it.
July 14, 2023
A heart-warmer. A tear-jerker. An eye-opener.
A must-read.
There was a time when I used to consider homosexuals as deviants, perverts, anomalies. They were wired differently and wrongly, just like psychopaths were wired differently and wrongly. They were surely not 'normal'. And anyone who is not 'normal' was 'abnormal'. And that included those with homosexual orientation.
Over the years, and especially because I work in the field of mental health, my opinion has evolved. As part of my work, I have interacted closely with those with homosexual orientation and also have had discussions with well-meaning and more-knowledgeable peers and seniors. I have since realised how bigoted my views were. I now understand that those with homosexual orientation are no more 'abnormal' than a left-handed person is abnormal. Majority of the humans are right-handed. And only about 10% of the human population is left-handed. But that doesn't make them abnormal in any way. Okay, does handedness really matter? Are they at any particular advantage or disadvantage? Most likely No. They are just the way they are. The exact same goes for those with homosexual orientation too.
Yet most of them are living in a mental hell. A hell into which society pushed them into. As said earlier, I could shed my parochial views only because of the nature of my work. For the rest of the majority, I heavily recommend Mohsin Zaidi's memoir 'A Dutiful Boy'. Why should you read it? Because who knows who in your circle is living in that mental hell, fearing your prejudices, battling their demons. Heavily recommended even if you don't have such people in your life. Heavily recommended because this book is also a reminder that you never know what someone is going through. So, be kind. Always.
I will add a short excerpt from the book:
"I went to the door. Behind me stood Uncle Tier and Abbass. As I greeted my dad, he looked over my shoulder and asked what Tier was doing there. Behind him, my mum had come to the end of the road, no longer able to contain her anguish. She let out a scream, releasing years of obedient silence. If she tried to speak, the words were unintelligible. Abbass took her into the kitchen. My dad, dumbfounded by her behaviour, wanted to follow but I stopped him, gesturing him instead into the living room.
Uncle Tier explained to my dad that I had something to tell him. I asked him to check on my mum. I was shaking and noticeably upset. It was a sight with which my dad was unfamiliar. The strong son he knew had vanished. My mum’s cries from the kitchen became the backdrop to what I was about to say.
‘Dad …’I paused to take what felt like it might be my last breath. Ever. ‘Dad, there’s …there’s something I have to tell you …’I explained that I had let go of my faith although what I really wanted to say was that it had let go of me. I told him that during our pilgrimages to Syria, I’d prayed for things to be different. I told him that when I got into Oxford I thanked God but asked that it be taken away. I told him that my ‘problem’ had led to my falling apart. An American woman who was first my counsellor and now my friend had saved me from doing something stupid. My voice shook as the words tumbled out of me. Finally I looked him in the eyes and said: ‘Dad, I’m gay and I didn’t choose to be this way.’They were the truest, most honest words my mouth had spoken and yet they were not enough. If only I was able to make him reach into me and feel my debilitating pain. But words were all I had at my disposal. They polluted the air and, I was sure, the rest of my life but, in that moment in the first seconds afterwards, I felt like a person born in captivity that had taken his first breath of free air.
My dad was wearing a scarf around his neck which he hadn’t yet had a chance to remove. He pulled it across his face to muffle the groans. Within seconds my mum, Abbass and Uncle Tier were in the room. My mum and dad were both weeping and there was something touching about seeing them holding on to each other. I couldn’t recall seeing them behave so tenderly towards one another. My mum was shouting in Punjabi, ‘How could I tell you? How could I tell you? I didn’t want it to hurt you.’I looked over at Abbass and Uncle Tier for a lifeline but they were frozen, braced for the fallout. I pulled forward the coffee table and sat on it, facing my parents. I said I was sorry. Their heads remained buried in each other."
A must-read.
There was a time when I used to consider homosexuals as deviants, perverts, anomalies. They were wired differently and wrongly, just like psychopaths were wired differently and wrongly. They were surely not 'normal'. And anyone who is not 'normal' was 'abnormal'. And that included those with homosexual orientation.
Over the years, and especially because I work in the field of mental health, my opinion has evolved. As part of my work, I have interacted closely with those with homosexual orientation and also have had discussions with well-meaning and more-knowledgeable peers and seniors. I have since realised how bigoted my views were. I now understand that those with homosexual orientation are no more 'abnormal' than a left-handed person is abnormal. Majority of the humans are right-handed. And only about 10% of the human population is left-handed. But that doesn't make them abnormal in any way. Okay, does handedness really matter? Are they at any particular advantage or disadvantage? Most likely No. They are just the way they are. The exact same goes for those with homosexual orientation too.
Yet most of them are living in a mental hell. A hell into which society pushed them into. As said earlier, I could shed my parochial views only because of the nature of my work. For the rest of the majority, I heavily recommend Mohsin Zaidi's memoir 'A Dutiful Boy'. Why should you read it? Because who knows who in your circle is living in that mental hell, fearing your prejudices, battling their demons. Heavily recommended even if you don't have such people in your life. Heavily recommended because this book is also a reminder that you never know what someone is going through. So, be kind. Always.
I will add a short excerpt from the book:
"I went to the door. Behind me stood Uncle Tier and Abbass. As I greeted my dad, he looked over my shoulder and asked what Tier was doing there. Behind him, my mum had come to the end of the road, no longer able to contain her anguish. She let out a scream, releasing years of obedient silence. If she tried to speak, the words were unintelligible. Abbass took her into the kitchen. My dad, dumbfounded by her behaviour, wanted to follow but I stopped him, gesturing him instead into the living room.
Uncle Tier explained to my dad that I had something to tell him. I asked him to check on my mum. I was shaking and noticeably upset. It was a sight with which my dad was unfamiliar. The strong son he knew had vanished. My mum’s cries from the kitchen became the backdrop to what I was about to say.
‘Dad …’I paused to take what felt like it might be my last breath. Ever. ‘Dad, there’s …there’s something I have to tell you …’I explained that I had let go of my faith although what I really wanted to say was that it had let go of me. I told him that during our pilgrimages to Syria, I’d prayed for things to be different. I told him that when I got into Oxford I thanked God but asked that it be taken away. I told him that my ‘problem’ had led to my falling apart. An American woman who was first my counsellor and now my friend had saved me from doing something stupid. My voice shook as the words tumbled out of me. Finally I looked him in the eyes and said: ‘Dad, I’m gay and I didn’t choose to be this way.’They were the truest, most honest words my mouth had spoken and yet they were not enough. If only I was able to make him reach into me and feel my debilitating pain. But words were all I had at my disposal. They polluted the air and, I was sure, the rest of my life but, in that moment in the first seconds afterwards, I felt like a person born in captivity that had taken his first breath of free air.
My dad was wearing a scarf around his neck which he hadn’t yet had a chance to remove. He pulled it across his face to muffle the groans. Within seconds my mum, Abbass and Uncle Tier were in the room. My mum and dad were both weeping and there was something touching about seeing them holding on to each other. I couldn’t recall seeing them behave so tenderly towards one another. My mum was shouting in Punjabi, ‘How could I tell you? How could I tell you? I didn’t want it to hurt you.’I looked over at Abbass and Uncle Tier for a lifeline but they were frozen, braced for the fallout. I pulled forward the coffee table and sat on it, facing my parents. I said I was sorry. Their heads remained buried in each other."
October 13, 2021
I spotted this memoir at Gay's The Word and was instantly intrigued by its bright cover and brilliant title. Luckily, the book delivered exactly what I expected. It offers a very personal and insightful look into Zaidi’s life and coming-out as a gay Muslim in East London. I especially appreciated how the author applied an intersectional lens, highlighting the interconnected (and shocking!) discrimination based on characteristics such as racial identity, nationality, sexuality and class. His story showcases the struggle of not fitting into the box that society wishes to place him in: „for Muslims I was too gay, for gays I was too Muslim. For Whites I was too brown and for my family I was too white“. Unsurprisingly, the book reminded me of memoirs like ‚Rainbow Milk’ and ‚How We Fight For Our Lives‘. It did, however, lack some of the raw and uncensored nature that the latter offered. Personally speaking, it felt a little bit like Zaidi applied a „mum-friendly“ filter to the gay experience (potentially in order to make this memoir accessible to a wider audience). Nevertheless, I truly enjoyed reading this book and I’m sure that it’ll inspire and help a lot of people.
November 4, 2021
Mohsin delivers a powerful memoir reflecting events on coming to terms with his sexuality within a Pakistani, muslim family, who migrated to England in the 1970s. Throughout the memoir and his journey, he experiences racism, inequality, poverty, migration, religion, bullying, culture and stigma, all encompassed around self identification and the need for connection and understanding.
Mohsin writes with short paragraphic bursts of events concentrating on areas of the impact of being homosexual and how this affects everything in his life; from suppressing his thoughts and feelings as a young boy, sincerely repenting of what he thought was a sin, working up towards voicing his sexuality to his family.
This is a compelling, heartbreaking story. One in which I encourage others to read. His memoir demonstrates the importance of courage, diversification and equality, the power of families and mental health.
Although movements towards creating a fairer, equal society for the LGBTQ+ community is growing, I believe that everyone can play a part from reading someone’s personal memoirs to for example wearing a badge within our profession.
I, for one appreciate Mohsin for sharing his memoir, for it is experieneces like these in which we need to recognise, acknowledge and support.
I, thank you Mohsin.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Mohsin writes with short paragraphic bursts of events concentrating on areas of the impact of being homosexual and how this affects everything in his life; from suppressing his thoughts and feelings as a young boy, sincerely repenting of what he thought was a sin, working up towards voicing his sexuality to his family.
This is a compelling, heartbreaking story. One in which I encourage others to read. His memoir demonstrates the importance of courage, diversification and equality, the power of families and mental health.
Although movements towards creating a fairer, equal society for the LGBTQ+ community is growing, I believe that everyone can play a part from reading someone’s personal memoirs to for example wearing a badge within our profession.
I, for one appreciate Mohsin for sharing his memoir, for it is experieneces like these in which we need to recognise, acknowledge and support.
I, thank you Mohsin.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
September 3, 2021
A great memoir, from a person with a complicated background: Pakistani, Muslim, raised in a traditional family and... gay. Mohsin struggled with his identity throughout his childhood and adolescence. When he finally accepted himself, another challenge lay ahead: would his conservative parents accept him?
January 28, 2024
This is a memoir written by a barrister about life and much that comes with it. As a Muslim, he was brought up to believe strongly in many different elements of his faith - but as a gay individual, that may have been easier said than done. Whilst I don’t have any prejudice myself against any faith, I did find it challenging to read about the fear the writer felt that his family could not only disown him but that he could bring shame to his family simply for being gay. The idea that he actually felt suicide was an option is horrifying - a professional, respected, articulate, loving human being feeling that death is an option simply because of their sexuality. The fact that we live in a world still where some of the most wonderful humans are persecuted over something so extraordinarily trivial! The latter pages of this book were especially emotive but the whole read was engaging.
March 16, 2021
A wonderful memoir, highly recommend.
May 9, 2021
Mohsin Zaidi grew up as a boy of many 'others': Asian, Shi'a, poor and gay.
A Dutiful Boy is a wonderful memoir that covers Zaidi's life, trying to fit in, trying to 'pray away' his homosexuality and his fight to live as himself.
A wonderful story.
However, the recording was slightly weird. Long pauses in random places and there were times where Zaidi trips up on his words. I think these should have been picked up in editing.
A Dutiful Boy is a wonderful memoir that covers Zaidi's life, trying to fit in, trying to 'pray away' his homosexuality and his fight to live as himself.
A wonderful story.
However, the recording was slightly weird. Long pauses in random places and there were times where Zaidi trips up on his words. I think these should have been picked up in editing.
September 4, 2020
Beautiful and necessary
Displaying 1 - 30 of 347 reviews