Sabina Khan's The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali, published in 2019,  is second in the list of critiques due to its striking coverage of youth LGBT+ experiences in romance, familial relationships, and differing societies. 

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Title: The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali

Author: Sabina Khan

Publisher: Scholastic Press

Copyright Date: 2019

Reading Level: ATOS 4.8

Interest Level (Age): 17+

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Synopsis: Rukhsana Ali, a seventeen year old Bengali teenager living in Seattle, dreams of a bright future where she studies physics at Caltech, lives happily with her secret girlfriend, Ariana, and is accepted by her family. When her girlfriend becomes secret no more, Rukhsana's soon-to-be-real dream life gets turned completely upside down. Under the pretense of visiting family, Rukhsana's homophobic parents whisk her away to Dhaka in hopes of remedying her of her "unrestricted" nature by, wait, hold on,  marrying her off to a Bengali man? Rukhsana wouldn't allow this, she just couldn't. After suffering through waves of emotional and physical abuse, Rukhsana devises her Dhaka escape plan with some unlikely allies. All she needs is a couple days, and then she would be free... right?

Personal Reaction: Sabina Khan's The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali (2019) was an emotional whirlwind of a read from start to finish. I felt personally connected to Rukhsana through her displeasure with her parents' perpetuation of suffocating gender roles and demoralizing perspectives on homosexuality and other LGBT+ topics. When Rukhsana's secret relationship with Ariana was first revealed to her mother, Zubaida, I was absolutely devastated. The fact that her mother physically lashed out at Ariana and blamed her for essentially tainting her daughter hit home for me. In my life, I have experienced homophobia from those I held dear to me and I can sympathize with the gut wrenching hatred that Rukhsana must have felt for her parents when they argued with her over something that was in her nature. This introductory conflict made me think about the countless experiences of LGBT+ youths in not only the U.S., but everywhere. I can't even begin to understand the fear that so many LGBT+ youths have of discrimination and death. So, when that first slap hit Ariana, I knew I was in for a long emotional ride.

A prevalent word that Rukhsana used throughout the story, "guilt," really crushed me. Rukhsana felt guilty about hiding aspects of herself from her parents and not telling them about Ariana. I felt so bad for Rukhsana, because I was able to sympathize with her feeling the need to hide herself and her life. I hid the fact that I was bisexual from my parents for years out of fear that they would disown me, throw me out, and curse my name. Luckily, and by the grace of the universe, I had supportive parents that understood and helped me grow to be comfortable in my own skin. Rukhsana's experience reminded me how truly blessed I am to have the parents I have, and made me ponder what I could do to help teenagers struggling with the same issue. 

The moment that gay conversion therapy was mentioned, or even alluded to, I knew that this story was traversing even further into the dark side. I couldn't believe that gay conversion therapy was even an option for a story based around the 21st century! I was baffled at Rukhsana's parents even suggesting such a thing. It got me thinking that conversion therapy is still traumatizing so many young adults in so many places and I genuinely couldn't fathom why systems of hatred like that still exist in this day and age. I use the word baffled a lot here because I just genuinely was taken aback by the representation of brainwashing. Throughout this story, Rukhsana's parents were so thoroughly brainwashed that I cheered for Rukhsana's fleeting moments of victory over her subversive parental structure. Though she was kept in Dhaka indefinitely till she found her husband, I resonated with Rukhsana's determination to do things her own way. And if things had to go out, they would go out with a bang her way. 

Upon learning that her grandmother was on her side, I let out an audible gasp and a quiet, "YAY!" It's not common for older generations in LGBT+ literature to have a supportive position, and I was surprised that Khan took that perspective. It got me thinking about the fact that so many LGBT+ teenagers lack this supplemental structure. The fact that Khan modeled it so eloquently was reassuring for me. I think that including a supportive elderly figure is a great way to introduce the younger readers to the reality that not everyone judges harshly... some care and respect. I will say that the darker portions of this story occur when Rukhsana's grandmother, Nani, is introduced and I have some thoughts on how deep the issues are. 

After enduring what can best be described as an exorcism for Americans, Rukhsana learns of the horrors that Nani endured to save Rukhsana's mother and uncle as she was growing up. It was at this point in the story that I had to take frequent breaks in between readings due to the depth of the issue and how negatively it struck me. I learned that Nani was a victim of rape, child marriage, domestic abuse and other unmentionable horrors that weren't presented in the diary entries Rukhsana read through. It was truly painful for me to read and I had to stop for mental breaks and to jot my thoughts down. I felt a primal sense of care and comfort wash over me as I wished I could jump into the pages and help then twelve year old Nani escape her persecution. These small segments of text got me thinking about how such terrors are difficult to navigate in youth-centered literature. I think that Khan's diary entry approach softened the blow of such topics since these same memories would be devastating to read through a first-person perspective like Rukhsana's. Form aside, after processing these portions of the book, I came to the understanding that they came to serve a purpose: to remind the reader that they need to live their lives authentically, and not do what others tell them to.

The Nani sections pushed me to support Rukhsana even harder as her escape plan was put into action. I verbally expressed my distaste at her parents forced marriage, but I rejoiced when Rukhsana finally made it back to Seattle. The fact that her life was in shambles made me think about how privileged my life is in comparison. I wished that I could reach out and tell her that it was all going to be okay, and that people care about her. I think this was the central aim of Khan's book: To showcase a snapshot of a person of color LGBT+ teenager's experience so that people could learn, sympathize, and empathize for their experience. The ending certainly made me rejoice, but I couldn't help but be reminded that reality isn't always so pleasant. Real stories don't always end in a Hallmark Movie cut-away where everyone is happy and working towards a brighter future, and this story reminded me of this. I think that the story does an excellent job at incorporating the harshness of reality and balancing it with optimism, however. I won't lie, I was teary eyed at the end when Rukhsana united with her family and they accepted both Ariana and Rukhsana. The ending brought me to a point of emotional catharsis that I hadn't thought about since I came out to my parents.  To wrap up, I think that this book opens doors to intense conversations about what acceptance and love truly mean in such a way where it feels authentic and unforced. And for that, I give the book a major scholarly thumbs up after wiping away the tears.

Awards Won: Selected for "Rise: A Feminist Book Project", Short-listed, Sheila A. Egoff Children's Literature Prize (BC), 2020, Short-listed, OLA White Pine Award, Fiction, 2019

Award Worthiness: Though this book hasn't been the recipient for a plethora of big ticket awards, I think that it deserves the recognition it has received and then some. Due in large part to its ability to eloquently illustrate dark topics that are often sheltered away from teenagers, I feel this book deserves more merit and consideration than it has thus far received. 

Recommendation: I definitely recommend that this book be read because it illustrates controversial topics in an approachable way. Based on the severity of the issues (I.e. child marriage, rape, physical abuse, mental/emotional manipulation), I do suggest that older adolescents and young-adults around the ages of 17 to 21 read this book. I also implore that adults read this book if they are seeking to understand the following: parenting styles, LGBT+ teen concerns, societal pressures, and abuse victims. If someone is considering showing this content to younger children (K-7th for example), I highly suggest waiting till they are older due to the potentially disturbing imagery. It is my estimation that younger children do not possess the discretionary skills necessary to understand what Rukhsana, Nani, and Zubaida experienced. So, I highly suggest an older audience for this particular read. 

The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali (2019) is a fabulous representation of youth voice due in great part to the believability of its plot, the unique setting it utilizes, among other literary elements. Khan artfully expresses the inner thoughts and feelings of a teenager struggling with her locus of control by using the first-person perspective. Khan's use of perspective forces the reader to see from Rukhsana's eyes as she endures the discrimination and deplorable actions of her parents, which is an excellent way to illustrate the prevailing theme of living as your authentic self no matter what it costs. This theme is nominal for this story since it exemplifies what queer teenagers and adults struggle with constantly! Khan's clever shift of setting from Seattle to Dhaka underlines the negative twist of events. Because of this intentional shift, the plot develops in a way that maintains the reader's attention while also remaining believable as an immigrant family narrative. I saved the most intriguing element for last: the characters. Rukhsana is an artful representation of the spectrum of young adults that exist in this world. Feeling conflicted with one's parents since they are loving one moment and hateful another is a unique feeling that is difficult to illustrate, but Sabina Khan succeeded at this by showing both the positive and negative aspects of Rukhsana and her parents. So, based on the prevailing elements, this book is of high quality in my estimation. As for the value of this text, I suggest that this book is valuable because it offers the audience a way to see from the eyes of someone struggling with self-actualization, acceptance, and love; three concepts that we all, at some point or another, have struggled with. 

Possible Discussion Topics:

1) Do you think it's possible to prevent prejudice against LGBT+ individuals? If so, how? 

2) Should teenagers be allowed to read texts discussing dark topics like rape, domestic abuse, and hate crimes? Explain your reasoning.