How To Fail With Elizabeth Day - S9, Ep2 How to Fail: Mohsin Zaidi

Episode Date: September 2, 2020

Mohsin Zaidi's memoir, A Dutiful Boy, is one of the most powerful and emotive books I've read this year. It tells the story of his upbringing 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 knew that his sexuality was a secret he had to hide in a household where being gay was viewed as an inconceivable taboo. Despite these personal struggles, Mohsin became the first person from his comprehensive school to go to Oxford University, later becoming a leading barrister. And then he told his family the truth.Mohsin joins me to talk about the realities of being gay and Muslim, about what it means to love your family while keeping your truest self hidden and about how he found the strength to break through the barriers surrounding him in the search for a truly authentic life.Trust me, YOU WILL LOVE THIS EPISODE. Mohsin is so eloquent and interesting and sweet-natured and funny that you can't help but fall in love with him a little bit, even when he's talking about such harrowing and difficult experiences. Inspiration is a word that gets bandied around a lot, but Mohsin Zaidi is a man who is wholly worthy of it.*PLEASE PRE-ORDER MY NEW BOOK! Failosophy: A Handbook For When Things Go Wrong is available here*To celebrate the publication of Failosophy, I am doing a LIVE show at The London Palladium. It is also live-streamed online. If you'd like to buy tickets for either option, you can do so here.*A Dutiful Boy by Mohsin Zaidi is out now and available to buy here*How To Fail With Elizabeth Day is hosted by Elizabeth Day, produced by Naomi Mantin and Chris Sharp. We love hearing from you! To contact us, email [e-mail]* Social Media:Elizabeth Day @elizabdayMohsin Zaidi @mohsinzaidi_ldnHow To Fail @howtofailpod       Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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wants you to start living a more fulfilled life today. Visit betterhelp.com forward slash HTF. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P. And join the over 1 million people taking charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. There is a special offer for How to Fail listeners where you can get 10% off your first month at betterhelp.com forward slash HTF. Thank you so much to BetterHelp. Before we get on with today's episode, I just wanted to beg you all to buy my new book. I mean, might as well be completely up front and open about it. That's what I would love you to do. You can pre-order Faelosophy now at the Waterstones website. In fact, you can pre-order a signed copy. It is out on the 1st of October. I would love you to read it. It is a distillation of everything that I've learned in

the last two and a half years of talking ceaselessly about failure to lots of amazing people. It is packed full of inspirational quotes from past guests and loads of practical wisdom for how to get through tough patches in life. It is organised according to seven failure principles. If you've come to one of my live shows, you might have heard me go through them, and it's just an expansion of that, really. But you can read it in one sitting. It's not that long. Or you can dip into it as and when certain themes seem to be applicable to you. It's also beautifully illustrated, not by me, I hasten to add, but by the amazing illustrator, Paul Blow. Anyway, if you would like to pre-order it, I would be incredibly grateful. So just head to www.waterstones.com.

And on top of that, if for instance, you wanted to buy the book and a ticket to see me live, instance you wanted to buy the book and a ticket to see me live you can now come and see me at the London Palladium I am doing excitingly a socially distanced show where they have all the safety measures in place you book in household bubbles that's going to happen on the 2nd of October it's my only launch event for the new book and you can buy a ticket that includes a book in the ticket if you can't come to London or you'd rather not, then you can also join me on the live stream. And it's going to be a really fun evening. I'm going to be doing a bit of a spiel at the beginning.

Then I'm going to be interviewed by the fantastic Raven Smith, Vogue columnist and funniest man on Instagram, I think anyway, hashtag TM. Then there will be a Q&A, and there will be some very, very special guests on the night as well so if that interests you please go to www.fane.co.uk and now on with the episode Hello and welcome to How to Fail with Elizabeth Day, the podcast that celebrates the things that haven't gone right. This is a podcast about learning from our mistakes and understanding that why we fail ultimately makes us stronger. Because learning how to fail in life actually means learning how to succeed better. I'm your host, author and journalist Elizabeth Day, and every week I'll

be asking a new interviewee what they've learned from failure. Mohsin Zeddi was born and raised in Walthamstow, East London, the eldest son of devoutly Muslim parents who had emigrated from Pakistan. His childhood was not without challenges. He was bullied at his local comprehensive in an area beset by gang violence, and the family's house was petrol bombed in a racist attack after 9-11. house was petrol bombed in a racist attack after 9-11. Despite this, Zeddy became the first pupil from his school ever to go to Oxford University, where he studied law and was elected college president. After graduating, he worked at the Magic Circle law firm Linklaters before transferring to the bar. As one of the country's leading young barristers, he now specialises in white-collar crime and has twice been ranked in the Financial Times Outstanding List of Future Leaders.

He is, then, a son any parent would be proud of. But for much of his life, Zeddy had a secret – his sexuality. As a member of a devout Shia Muslim family, the fact that he was gay was deemed one of the worst things he could tell his parents. Zeddy lived in personal torment for years before finding the courage to tell his family. It was not an easy road. At one point, his desperate parents summoned a witch doctor to rid him of evil spirits. a witch doctor to rid him of evil spirits. But their journey to acceptance is recounted in Zeddy's deeply moving and profoundly important memoir, A Dutiful Boy, published earlier this year. In it, he writes beautifully about how his parents overcame their prejudice and says,

the thing about superheroes is that they had to have a weakness. If they were invincible, there would be no point. I knew now that the same was true in real life. What made them so special was that they found a way to overcome their kryptonite, not that they didn't have it in the first place. Mohsin, welcome to How to Fail. Thank you for having me. I hope that introduction wasn't too cringe. I know you don't like nice things being said about you. No, no, no. It's one of the more British sides of me. But no, that was fine.

Thank you. Okay, good. I absolutely loved your memoir, A Dutiful Boy. And I thank you for the courage it must have taken to write it. And the reason I chose that quote that I ended on there was not only because it says so much, but it's very on brand for this podcast. The idea of a flaw actually leading to embracing greater strength. What's your kryptonite?

Oh, you know, I said before coming on this podcast that you are so good at asking questions and there's no point preparing. I guess it's my family, actually. That is my real weakness because there were so many moments as I was growing up, particularly in my 20s, where the logical thing to do would be to say,

okay, you know, this isn't working. I need to move away from it for my own betterment and for my own kind of mental health. But I couldn't help but keep going back because I needed them and I need them. So I guess if I was going to pick something kind of perversely, it would be them. You write with such tenderness about your parents, your uncles, your brothers. And I wonder how hard it was to revisit your life, because it gets very, very dark at some points, particularly when you're at Oxford University and you're struggling with all sorts of identities. How difficult was it for you to write? capacities how difficult was it for you to write there were moments where I guess I just I looked at the page and I looked at what I'd written and I thought oh my god this really happened so there were times when it was hard but I think for the most part it felt good to be able to write it all down I think one of the things I say at the end is that by writing it down, I feel like I can almost put it down and leave it behind. Although there were moments where it really did, you know, it used to bring me to tears, I'd be typing away and crying at the same time.

But I think overall, it just feels like I can take it out of me now. I know you would have been asked this many times before, but what do your parents make of the memoir? They are really supportive. When I first spoke to them about writing it, I made it clear that I wouldn't do it without their blessing. And they agreed with caveats. So they said they want to be able to read it beforehand and, you know, have a right of veto. And I agreed to all of that when my mum actually read it. In fact, my mum and my brother had the same experience. I knew that they were reading it. My brother used to read it on his commute. And so I'd get these messages in the morning and in the evening being like, oh my God, I remember that. And then when my mum read it, she would send me these messages saying, there's a typo on page 83. And I was like, mum, I don't need to know what you think of the typos. 83 and I was like mum I don't need to know what you think of the typos but then she got to the end and actually didn't exercise her right of veto so they are really supportive and I guess

the main thing for them and for me is that they hope that it helps other people. By any measure you are an extremely successful person how do you feel more broadly about failure? How do you feel coming onto this podcast? You know, I wish I felt like a successful person. I guess it doesn't, to me, feel like a destination. It feels like something that you're constantly grappling with. In some ways, coming on the podcast was bizarre because there are so many things I could have spoken about I was like nope too private nope too private I guess I don't really think about it as success I just think about it as trying to be the best person I can be for myself and for the people that I love and doing the best I can not to take a wrong step and then if I do take a wrong step

learning from it there's a bit in the book where you're talking with a university friend about the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind which famously deals with unpleasant memories and the possibility of erasing them. Would you erase your unpleasant memories given everything that you've been through and all the things that you've had to contend with which we will go into in greater detail but would you choose to erase them if you could no absolutely not I think that they've made me the person that I am today to be honest without all these things that happened without all these things that I've written about I really couldn't picture what sort of person I'd be I used to dream about a life where I was straight and even that now seems impossible to imagine so no I wouldn't wish them away. I mean, that's for the most part,

I think that there are still times, even now talking about it with you and thinking about this book coming out, there are still times where I think about what it would have been like to lead a completely different life. But no, I wouldn't erase the memories. I have a copy of your book in hardback. And I don't know whether the paperback cover is going to stay the same but the hardback cover is so heartbreaking because it's a photo of you as a little boy and there's just something about the expression on your face that I find just yeah heart-rending really what's it like having a photo of you as it as that young boy on the cover of a book is it quite surreal yeah I, I actually don't have a copy of that hardback yet, because publication was delayed until August. And I'm

in Ireland at the moment. So I've not got a copy of the book, but I do know what the front cover looks like. The thing is, with that picture, although it is me, I don't ever remember a time where I looked in the mirror and remember that image. So I think it's actually more surreal for my parents, because they do remember that little kid. Whereas for me, it's just a bit embarrassing. When they were trying to think about front covers, they said, can we look through your photos of you as a kid? And I was like, yeah, sure. And then they picked that one. And I thought, why did they pick that one? But everybody seems to have said similar things to what you've said. How old are you in the picture? You know, I don't actually know. I've asked my mum this

and she thinks I'm about seven, but we can't remember. I suppose it's that famous Jesuit saying, isn't it? It was show me the child at seven and I'll show you the man. But this little boy has such a sense of, I suppose, hope about the future and expectation on him. And you can just tell that he's such a good child in so many ways, as the title says, a dutiful boy. Anyway, it's a beautiful picture. Oh, thank you. It really is. But let's get on to your failures. And I want to get onto them quickly because they're so good. And I know that there's going to be lots to chat about. The first failure you've chosen is that you failed the entrance exam and the interview for private school at the age of 11. So tell us what happened there. Well, it kind of sprung on me in a way, because I think my mum and my dad knew that getting into a

good school would be, I guess, transformative. And we lived in an area where there were no decent schools. So it kind of said to me one day, you're going to be sitting these exams, and you're also going to have an interview. But there was very little by way of preparation. And I think that's because they didn't really know how it worked. So I went into this really nice looking private school. I still remember the exam hall really distinctly. It wasn't actually an exam hall, I think it was their school library. And I still remember one of the questions. And the question was, you have 35 soldiers in a line and we've each got numbers how many different unique combinations of them can you make if they're standing in a line i don't even understand the question so sorry well yeah no as in that's like how on earth are you meant to

answer that yeah well it's equivalent let's say you've got a b and c you can do b c a a c b so that basically it's just how many different ways can you rearrange them so that they're lined up uniquely and i remember i turned the exam sheet over and just began writing it out because i had absolutely no way of knowing how to attack this question i knew that i wasn't going to pass this test that i've been asked to sit. So that was the exam. And then I had this interview in this really old office with this man who was, I think, the head teacher of the school. And it really meant very little to me. And then I remember I was going to Badminton on a Saturday one day. And as my mum dropped me off, she said, Oh, by the way, you didn't get in. And so you're going to be going to the local school and the reason I

picked it was because it was I guess my first failure and it's not because my parents didn't make me feel like a failure I could see that they were disappointed but they didn't convey the idea of failure but I knew that something I'd done something that wasn't quite right or I'd messed up and even though it was my first experience of failure it was external and it didn't really form part of me until much later when I looked back at it and I thought oh wow like that moment had the power to really change my life but it didn't because I didn't pass the tests. Up to that point were you aware that you were good at school? Yeah I mean mean, I never thought of myself as being, you know, remarkably clever or anything like that. But I was always in always in the top set and worked hard so that I could get good grades. But that was more because I was worried about my parents shouting at

me than than anything else. So yeah, I mean, I guess I did have an idea that I was decent in school, but I guess it was relative in a way. The reason I ask is because a lot of people come on this podcast and say that they became accustomed to being good at exams and being told that they were good at school. And then when they had their first failure, they were ill-equipped to deal with it. But it doesn't sound to me like you thought that that was part of your identity. It wasn't that important to you to begin at school it was important to your parents yeah and and I guess to be completely honest with you that remains the case today I've never felt although externally there are indications that I've done all right I've never felt like somebody who is a success or who will succeed and every new thing I approach

including this podcast if I'm completely honest, I approach with a kind of low level dread that I'm going to mess up. It's a double edged sword, because it's the thing that scares me and makes me think that I'm going to fail. But it's also the thing that helps me succeed because I over prepare so that I am ready for any stumble. By the way, the beauty of this podcast is that you don't need to have low level dread because even if you fail, that's very on brand. So it's totally fine. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I think I called it that. No, I know. I think it's genius. But no, but you know, like, in some ways, failure kind of haunts me because I'm always looking for it. I'm always looking for it in the things that I do all the decisions I make and like inevitably I'll listen to this back and I will say

to myself oh I shouldn't have said it like this I should have said it like that while all my loved ones and my friends are saying oh my god you went on how to fail all I'll think about is the fact that I was inarticulate when explaining the question on the exam or something like that, you know? You're so lovely. I feel that. But you are. And also just to say that we're recording this remotely. And I know that that adds a whole other layer of difficulty because we can't connect kind of eye to eye. But that low level dread that you mentioned and the fear of getting things wrong do you think that comes from what we've been talking about that you are gay you knew that and it felt like something to be ashamed of and therefore you were trying to overcompensate by being perfect in every other

area yeah I mean I think that a lot of people feel some version of that. A lot of kind of people from the LGBT community feel this sense of, in fact, I think I write about it in A Dutiful Boy. I write about this idea of trying to in in an environment that said you are brilliant you are entitled to succeed and I think there's something in my nature that also always anticipates failure and thinks about failure because actually in some ways one of the reasons why I've ended up in the position that I'm in is through the process of anticipating failures rather than through the objective of achieving success. Well, that's a form of constructive pessimism. And I'm here for it. I totally get that. I'm definitely someone when I was growing up, I was always called a worrier. Like I worried about everything. I worried about every eventuality. And my response was, well, if I worry about it,

then I'm prepared for the worst. And then if better stuff happens, that's a pleasant surprise. Yeah, I mean, I'm exactly the same. I worry about even this book. I mean, I constantly worried about every single word that's going to be torn apart and how it's going to be received. But I'm not sure if you remember this, but there was this amazing song called Wear Sunscreen. It was originally a speech. I love that song. Yeah, and there's a line in it and it says worry but know

that worrying is effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum and that line always stays with me because I worry constantly and so then I have to try and remind myself that there's no point so what happened after you failed to get into that private school? Tell us about the school experience that you then did have. So I went to my local secondary school and it was a very challenging experience for me even at the time. I think with hindsight it was more challenging than I could have appreciated but I I really stood out because you probably hear my voice, I sound middle class. And I've always sounded this way. Actually really annoys me when people say, did you change your accent when you went to Oxford? But I always sounded this way,

because my mum sounds this way. And I got it from her. But I went to a school where people used slang and didn't conform to the school uniform. For the most I stuck out and I was bullied relentlessly actually and it was just a really lonely and isolating experience for the most part I did have some friends and I did get a lot of support from teachers who could see that I wanted to do something with my life and so I was really lucky in lots of ways but overall it was a really hard time and it didn't really get any easier until I left. Yeah, you were horribly bullied. Those were some of the most difficult passages in the book to read, actually, to the extent that when your younger brother started the same school,

you felt like you had to not acknowledge that you knew him in order to protect him. Yeah, because he was a year younger than me I mean I write about one character in particular but the character is actually an amalgamation of a few people and I just didn't want him to be subjected to the same you know abuse physical and verbal that I was being subjected to and I so I thought the best way of doing that was to avoid him or to not tell anybody that we were related. I mean, people quickly figured it out. I mean, the great thing about him is that he's really charismatic, always has been, and great at sport and didn't really like school very much.

So I think he found it a lot easier to fit in than I did. Does he have a different accent from yours? Yes, he does. And my secondary school didn't have a sixth form. And I ended up going to a grammar school for sixth form. And then he followed me the year afterwards. And everyone kind of remarked or observed that it seems as though we've been brought up by two different sets of parents. fascinating because we had a chat before we started recording and I told you that I grew up in Northern Ireland. Now, there is no way you can hear that in my voice. And for years, it really, really bothered me. And for whatever reason, I just didn't pick up the accent, even though I lived there from the ages of four to 22. Really? Yeah. I can't believe it's that long. I just assumed it was like a couple of years. One of the things that you talk about in A Dutiful Boy is years. One of the things that you talk about in A Dutiful Boy is identity. And there are so many aspects of your identity. And I would love to read a quote that you gave to an interview with

The Times with former podcast alumnus Satnam Sangira. Yeah, that was a wonderful episode, by the way. Well, thank you. That was all him. He is amazing. But you said, for gays, I was too Muslim. For Muslims, I was too gay. For whites, I was too brown. And said for gays I was too Muslim for Muslims I was too gay for whites I was too brown and for my family I was too white I think that puts it so well and I wanted to ask you whether you found a sense of belonging now whether you've made peace with your multiple identities I think so I mean I think I have reached a point where as much as possible, I don't try and demarcate them. I think one of the things about the journey that I've written about is that I've spent so much of my life feeling like I had to keep everything apart from one another. Like I felt like I couldn't talk to my parents about my private life.

I felt like I couldn't talk to people I was dating about my faith and my background. And when I was at university, I didn't really feel like I could talk to many people about the place I'd come from. So I think for me, the most important thing about today is just letting those things sit together as one rather than feeling like there's no place for them to be next to each other. Take me back to your last day at that school that you mentioned before you went to the grammar school, because something happened during that last day, which encapsulated so much of the situation you found yourself in. to go into the main hall in school. And we were given a speech from our head of year, which sounded a lot like a goodbye. And then he said something like, this might sound like a goodbye, that's because it is. And what they had done is they'd moved the leaving date forward by two days because they were worried about gang violence. And then they'd chosen the sports hall because

there was an exit straight onto a car park that was essentially outside the school. So we weren't allowed to go back into the school. We were led out via this kind of fire exit. And then waiting outside in the car park were police who were stop and searching us randomly for weapons. I actually had to, because I'm a governor of my old school now, and I remember having to double check that actually happened because it felt because I wasn't sure whether maybe I just made it up or something. Lots of people in my year were were stopping search, including one of my close friends. So that was the kind of lasting memory of secondary school for a long time. When you were growing up, so many assumptions were made about you negative assumptions,

whether it be for your race or an intimation about your sexuality. But it strikes me that any anger you felt at that, you've been able to redirect into positive drive. Is that right, first of all? And secondly, did it come naturally or have you had to really work quite hard at that? When so many of the things that are getting in your way are societal, I think it's very difficult to be angry with them in the moment if that makes sense so if someone's doing something to annoy you or someone's standing in your way you can direct your anger at them but when it's something that's invisible and societal like for example racism it can be much more difficult to react instantly with anger. I don't know that it

was anger in the obvious sense. I feel more angry now, looking back, and not necessarily for myself, but for the people that come after me. I think for me at the time, I saw something was in my way, I write about it, I say I had hurdles in front of me, and my job was to step over them. And so that's what I did. So I don't know that it was anger that manifest itself as a drive for success. I think I just thought, well, you know, you can't go around it, you have to go through it. That's fascinating. Yeah. Whereas now I'm guessing that you feel your job is to dismantle those hurdles. Oh, completely. And I'm much more angry looking at things now than I was then. So, you know, the way that I was treated in shops,

I was embarrassed by it, not angry. Whereas now, when I see it happening, and I have seen it happening, I'm angry by it. So I went into a shop on Regent Street in January, and I walked in behind these two black guys, and the security guard said on his radio to IC2 males, keep a lookout. And IC2 is a police abbreviation for black male. And I was really, really angry. And I asked to speak to the manager. And the manager came along, and it was a black woman. And I said, Look, your security guard has literally just racially profiled those two guys over there. And I pointed at them. And I said, Do they look like they're going to steal anything to you? And she said, No, they don't. And and I said so why do you think he did that other than because of their race and she said I think

it was because of their race and so we had this exchange and it was really weird because I was really angry but she could clearly understand what was happening not least because she was a black woman and I remember leaving the shop and thinking to myself I had those same experiences of security guards following me and all I felt was embarrassment and the need to demonstrate that I was a good citizen. Whereas as soon as I see it happening to other people now, I feel more rage. And you talk in the book about how when you first became a barrister, people would mistake you for the defendant. Yeah, that still happens. I mean, it doesn't happen that often. It only really happens in the magistrate's court because you don't wear a wig and a gown.

Although I've also had experiences where I had a meeting with a really high profile QC from a different chambers. And I went to the front of his chambers and I buzzed the doorbell. And I don't know if whoever was meant to be answering the door wasn't there. So I was standing outside

and there was a pile of boxes next to me and a different barrister, also a QC, came out of the building, looked at the boxes, looked at me and said, oh, those need to go to the High Court. Because he assumed that a young brown man in a suit was a clerk from a different chambers. So he assumed I was a clerk. And I just said, I'm actually not, I'm here for a different meeting. I was a clerk. And I just said, I'm actually not, I'm here for a different meeting. So yeah, it does still happen. Before we get onto your next failure, which is a big one, because it's really the point of your book. But I wanted to ask you about the language around sexuality, because there's a whole vocabulary used around being gay that includes the term, quote unquote, coming out. And I've spoken on the podcast before about how that can be quite

an unsettling and uncomfortable term, because it assumes A, that there's something to be ashamed of, and B, that it's something that you sort of step into the knowledge of, whereas actually, you're kind of born with your identity. How do you feel about the term coming out? I think that it is a term that I hope we no longer use soon. I don't think we're there yet. Because what it suggests, or what it conveys, is the idea that when you're born, you're born in this box that you have to tell people you don't belong in. And what would be wonderful is that when you're born, there is no box. So there's no presumption, there's no default. So there is no coming out process because there's no sense of you are, unless you say otherwise, you are X. So I guess the term for me is unfortunately still necessary, but I hope that

it is redundant sooner rather than later. Your second failure is, and I'm just quoting you directly, I failed to become the man my parents hoped I would be. Oh, Mohsin, that just, again, find that quite heartbreaking. But to give it context for anyone who hasn't read your book, what is the take on homosexuality for a Shia Muslim, a devout Shia Muslim who was raised reading the Quran in Arabic as you were? Well, interestingly, I try to avoid going into theology in the book because I'm not an expert. And to a certain extent, it's difficult sometimes to unwrap faith from culture. But I was raised to believe that homosexuality was a sin for which I would go to hell.

And so that was the kind of context of my upbringing. And, you know, the funny thing is not necessarily because my parents said anything, because I don't think they even thought they didn't even tell us about girls let alone boys so it wasn't necessarily because they they said anything I just knew because it permeated it was like one of the things that we knew we didn't do and you talk in the book about how you used to pray that God would take away your place Oxford in return for making you straight yeah yeah I prayed a lot for that one of the kind of working titles for the book at one point was 11,000 prayers because I calculated that if I prayed five times a day

between the age of I think 13 and 19 or whatever it was, that it comes to about 11,000 prayers. And each time I would pray for the same thing. Because for me, Oxford felt like a miracle. Like it really didn't, I never thought I would get in. I wasn't even planning on applying. It was my parents that pushed me to do it. And then when it came true, the only explanation in my mind was that I was being given something that I could essentially offer as a sacrifice. And so I spent a lot of time praying and asking for Oxford to be taken away in exchange for me being straight. And so I used to think, okay, well, if I don't get my grades and I fail, then maybe that will mean that I'll be straight.

And when you say you failed to become the man your parents hoped you would be what man were they hoping for well I guess in some ways I wouldn't want to misquote them because I I can only speak to what I think they wanted which was I mean yeah it's complicated they they definitely are quite happy with the lawyer bit um asian parents they are you struggling because it's so i just want to make it very clear in the book it's so clear how much you love your parents. Yeah.

And is it difficult to talk about because you don't want it to sound like you don't love them as much as you do? Yeah, I think I'm also very protective of them because I understand that publishing a memoir is taking something that's deeply personal and private and making it available for public consumption. And so I also, whenever I speak about them, I really try and think carefully about what I do and don't say, because I don't want to do them a disservice. But in terms of what they wanted, I don't think it's doing them a disservice to say that they hoped that I would get married to a woman, have kids, remain religious and remain close to them, both geographically and otherwise.

You know, in my head, what I'm thinking about is, would they have preferred a version of me that wasn't these things that I am today, that was perhaps not as successful, maybe not a lawyer, but was straight? And I hope that the answer is no. I'd have to check with them, I guess. There's a place in the book where you're talking to your therapist, Maureen, and I don't think it's an overstatement. I mean, I think you say this, that she really saved your life. And she was someone that you encountered while at university. And she asks you the question, when you're

struggling with this, and you haven't told your parents yet, would they prefer a gay son or a dead son? And you can't answer straight away. Yeah, I mean, now I know the answer. I know the answer is, is that they would hate the idea of their son not being with them anymore. I know that now. But at the time, no, I couldn't answer that question. Because it really felt like I might ruin everything for them by coming out. I might ruin their sense of themselves, ruin their relationship with their faith, ruin their hopes and dreams for the future. Yeah, so I really couldn't answer that question. And I guess the sad thing is that there are so many young people today still questioning that and still wondering, you know, would I be better off dead than the way I was born? And for me, that's the thing that is really hard to think about, to think that we still live in a society that forces young people to ask that question of themselves.

Well, especially when there isn't language to express something. So you talk about how you told your parents separately, you told your mother first and then told your father. But when it came to the point to tell your father, you realised that the language you normally communicate in with him, Urdu, doesn't have a word that isn't in some way highly critical or offensive about being gay. And yet to speak in English would be to formalise it. And so you choose to write him a letter. And I just thought that was so profound that if there isn't even a word, how can we expect young people to feel safe expressing themselves? Yeah, I mean, again, I'm not an expert in Urdu, and so I do hope that I'm wrong about that. But at least in my vocabulary, there

wasn't a neutral word. Every word came with a sense of prejudice. And it might be that the words started off neutral, and then over time, built up behind behind them a kind of tailwind of prejudice but yeah that was a complicated thing to navigate because as you've mentioned and as I write about speaking in English about something that was so personal felt like it was taking me further away from my dad at a time when what I wanted to demonstrate was that nothing about me had changed, that I was still the same son. And I do think language, at least when you're second generation, or I don't know, I never understand the first second generation thing, but I was the first generation born in this country. And my parents were born in Pakistan, I think that that does

create a complication when you're trying to talk about the most intimate things, but your first language is different to your parents. Tell us a bit about your parents' reactions. I know that that's a huge question because the reactions really evolved, but tell us about the immediate reactions when you told each of them. So I told them separately. I told my mum first and then my dad a couple of years later. And how old were you? Sorry, I must say it was after your graduation, wasn't it?

Yeah. So, well, my mum, I told her when I was 21. So I was about to go into my final year of university. And my dad, I told him when I was about 23 or 24 and I was doing legal exams before joining Linklaters. And the catalyst for telling each of them was different but that's a whole other story so I'll just focus on their reactions but my mum she kind of caved into herself she didn't go to work for two days so I told her I think on a Sunday and on the Monday and Tuesday she couldn't find the energy to go to work and then on the Wednesday in the morning she got up and went to work and then came home about an hour later because she got to work and was just crying. And so she ended up having to take that week off.

And then she talked about taking me on a religious pilgrimage. And she talked about saving me and fighting this. And then that version of fighting my sexuality, in some way, lingered for about 10 years. And my dad, when I told him, he burst into tears, then told me that he loved me and that I was his son. My brother and I were so surprised we went for a milkshake afterwards. But then a week later, he brought a witch doctor to the house to try and cure me with some sort of ointment. I don't actually know what it was because I refused to take it,

but I kind of wish I'd kept it now so I could get it tested. Yeah, so they did have really difficult initial reactions in some ways I always knew that that would be the case I think what I hadn't prepared myself for was just how long it would take to get them to a point where they could see me for me again and see me as their son and I guess I wasn't sure they ever would, but there was something in me that always hoped that they could just accept me because to me, it was like, well, I didn't choose to be this way and I am still the same person. And so the idea that they would push me away, it just, it felt so illogical to me, but I had to put the ball in their court.

It strikes me that there was such a lack of community support because you do talk about, and it's a very funny episode in the book where you go with your mother to a charity event for parents of LGBT South Asians. And you say this brilliant thing about how south asian mothers can be competitive about absolutely anything so tell us about that that event and why it wasn't quite right for your mother it was great you had to bring your own dish to the event so before it got started everyone's kind of hanging around in the kitchen and comparing notes on the pakoras and the samosas and who's made the tastiest one and and then talking about the fact that one of them said like oh my son actually made it or my daughter made it that's the point which I just I just remember thinking wow like they really do

I mean even this situation where we're talking about this massive stigma they're talking about whose pakoras are tastiest and my mum kind of whispered to me, should I tell her about Oxford? But she didn't, she didn't say anything. But then when we got into the room, it became clear that we were the only Muslim family there. And I think that was really hard for her because it compounded the sense of isolation, the sense that we were going through this alone, and there was nobody else in the world who was having to deal with it. And you now have set up a group, haven't you, for LGBT Muslims? So there's something called the Inclusive Mosque Initiative and they are the ones who have done all the legwork. So I can't really take any credit for that, but I approached them with it and they

very kindly agreed to help organise it. And the idea is a support group for families to come to discuss their experiences about being related to somebody who is LGBT. So it has been a long journey of acceptance, but I'm delighted for listeners that you have met someone who is a very handsome and tall Irishman, and who you've introduced your parents and you're engaged to be married yeah he's awesome they actually they love him way more than they love me now um they they genuinely prefer him which i think is the dream really yeah we were supposed to get married in april but because of lockdown we have had to postpone but yeah it was going to be a big Irish wedding. When you say I failed to become the man my parents hoped I would be, does it genuinely feel like a failure to you?

Yeah, it does. That doesn't mean to say that I'm not proud of the person that I am trying to become. You know, for a long time, I wished that there was a button that I could press to make me straight. And I don't feel that way anymore. But I do regret that there's been so much heartache and difficulty for my family. I really wish that they didn't have to go through it. I really wish they hadn't had to go through it. And I guess that's part of the reason for the book is to hope that by adding this story to the big pile of stories that are now out there about LGBT Muslims, that we can help make sure that young people and families in the future don't go through as much of an ordeal as we did. And so I think it does feel like a failure. That doesn't mean

I'm solely responsible for that failure. But I think I'll always feel to a certain extent, regret that I couldn't be the person they wanted me to be. How much has Matthew, your fiance, been a source of self-acceptance for you? I had become very confident in the person I was by the time I hit 30, which was about the age that I met him, 31, I think. What he really helped with was bridging the gap between my family and my sexuality because until him they were completely separated inside of me and externally and by meeting him I have been able to reconcile parts of myself that I couldn't have imagined would ever sit harmoniously together you know we spoke earlier about the different parts of yourself having to work hard to find space for each other and I think that what he has done is enabled two of the biggest parts of me

to love each other oh god I just stop making me well up it's just really unfair um tell me about the tea because this is one of my favorite things as well about your family yes about the first time Matthew came to visit and the tea yeah everybody loves the tea so basically my mum is quite fair skinned and my dad is quite dark skinned and me and my two brothers are somewhere in the middle but so we're all different shades so whenever visitors come for tea one of the easiest ways of finding out how much milk they want when we're all in the room is by pointing at one of us and saying I'd like my tea that shade please so I'm kind of in the middle mum's at one end of the spectrum dad's at the other who we sat down is the first time they're in his they're in his presence there he's in their living room and my mum kind of you can tell that my mum and dad are finding it so difficult to even look at him and it's weird like you know

obviously you know your parents better than anybody and even though they're smiling I know that those aren't their real smiles that they're forced and my mum or my dad said oh do you want some tea and Matthew said yes I do and then my mum I think it was instinctive said how much milk do you want do you like it and I kind of interrupted her and said mum mum mum and then Matthew put his hand on my arm and said just let her do it and then she said how much milk do you want do you prefer it to be this dark and point towards my dad or this light and kind of pointed at herself and and he without missing a beat, kind of lifted his hand, pointed to himself and said, just not this white, please. And they just burst into laughter.

And it really pierced the tension. And I think they really surprised themselves. He surprised me as well, but they just loved it. And it really set the tone for the rest of that evening of finding a way of being present with each other. So wonderful. And I have to say just again, how beautifully you describe your parents in the book. I love your mum. I particularly like the fact that she's tall, as am I. So that was something I could relate to. Yeah, it's funny, actually. I think I really empathise with tall women, because growing up with a tall mum, you see the struggle, you know, like heels, no heels, how tall should they be? I know what long tall Sally is, whereas a lot of people don't. So yeah, I mean, it was a lot easier as a kid, though, because it meant finding her was quite easy in the supermarket and stuff.

It's so funny, actually. I had a couple of messages last week from people who listen to the podcast who were sort of personally affronted when they discovered that I was tall, because apparently I give a short, like short vibe. And I was then offended. Not that there's anything wrong with, you know, whatever height you are is completely acceptable. But I was like, really? It's so much part of my identity. I can't say that I imagined you as short, actually. Thank you. You're welcome. How tall are you? I'm 5'11". How tall are you? I'm 6'.

Oh, gosh. You're such a handsome couple. You really are. I've seen the photos on Instagram. Well, I keep getting, well, not that often, but I got, after the Times article, I got a bunch of messages from random people, but most of them were asking about Matthew. They were like, you're okay, but I get, I got, after the Times article, I got a bunch of messages from random people, but most of them were asking about Matthew.

They were like, you're okay, but your husband's hot. That's not fair at all. You are, you are extremely handsome yourself. Anyway, I digress. Your final failure, and this also, I mean, I know I'm just wanging on about your book, but I just can't get enough of it. But this refers to one of my favourite episodes in A Dutiful Boy, and it's your failure to understand technology. So tell us what you're referring to there. Oh my God. So this is the single most embarrassing moment of my life. I mean, it's properly embarrassing as well. Yeah, like hands down. Like I've been in a few situations subsequently where people have said, you know, oh, I had this really embarrassing time when and I've gone, I see you and I raised you like 300 bars. So I spent a year

as a judicial assistant to a judge at the Supreme Court. And so in layman's terms, basically, I was a young lawyer helping two Supreme Court judges. The Supreme Court sits at the top of the legal hierarchy. And there are 12 judges who are the top judges in the land. So I was helping two of them. And one of them is a judge called Lord Wilson, who's a wonderful human being. And at the very start of my time with him, he didn't use email. So his secretary would print his emails, and he would handwrite the replies. And I remember saying to him that you've got to join the 21st century. It's ridiculous that you don't use emails. And he said he found the quartz computers a bit complicated. And so I suggested an iPad and I'd recently got one myself. And he said,

oh, I don't really know. And I said, look, I've just bought mine. There's nothing on it. Why don't you just borrow mine for a few days just to get yourself going and familiar with what an iPad is. And then if you like the look of it, you can think about buying yourself one. So I lent it borrow mine for a few days just to get yourself going and familiar with what an iPad is and then if you like the look of it you can think about buying yourself one so I lent it to him on a Friday and then on the Monday morning I come back in and he says oh thank you here's your iPad I bought myself one and I was really shocked because on the Friday he'd still been printing emails out and handwriting replies. And then three days later, he's bought his own iPad.

But anyway, I thought that was brilliant. So, you know, taught him to use it and stuff. And I hadn't come out to him because there didn't seem a reason to. And that's just by way of background. But then he very early on said that he was going to be doing a speech in Belfast, in fact, to a group of lawyers. And his background was as a family law judge. And so he decided to do a speech on gay marriage. And this was 2013. And so it wasn't legal in Northern Ireland then, but it had just become legal in the rest of the UK. And his speech made headlines because he had very bravely, in my view,

gone to a part of the country where same-sex marriage was not permissible and said, marriage is a very elastic concept and it's man-made. And I think that you should think about having it here too. So I'd helped him work on this speech and he actually thanks me in it. And then subsequently the court heard the case of Bull and Hall,

which was, I'm not sure if you remember, but it was- I remember this so well, yeah. Yeah, so it was a Christian couple who owned a bed and breakfast, and they told a civilly partnered gay couple that they couldn't have a double room. And so while I was there, this case came to the Supreme Court. After these things had happened, I remember talking to Lord Wilson, and we were talking about the speech, and he thanked me for working on it. And I said to him, actually, I think I should be thanking you

because it was a it was a professional honor but also for me personally it was a privilege to write because I'm gay and for me that was quite a nerve-wracking thing to do because he's my boss he's one of the best top lawyers in the country and usually we talk about professional stuff and I was here talking about personal things and And his response was, oh, actually, I already know. And I was quite taken aback because, I mean, to be honest, it doesn't bother me whether somebody is camp or not. But I didn't think that I had done anything to give him the sense that I was gay. And he quickly said, oh, not because I could tell or anything like that. But do you remember that you lent me your iPad?

And I kind of paused and thought, yeah. And he said, well, I tried not to look, but you kept receiving these very colourful text messages from a young man called Alejandro. And what I hadn't appreciated was that my iPad synced with my iPhone and that my text messages were being sent to both devices over the weekend. And so I was in a situation where this preeminent lawyer who I was trying to impress professionally had seen messages that I wouldn't show to anybody else, let alone a Supreme Court judge. And it was genuinely the most embarrassing moment of my life. I've never really been speechless, but I was truly speechless. And I had to ask if I could be

excused because I didn't know what to do with myself. And I was so embarrassed that I didn't even go back to my open plan office with the other assistants. I went straight to the loo, closed the door and sat there for 10 minutes and just said, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. And I couldn't even call anybody because I couldn't fathom how I would go about explaining what had just happened. And then I was looking at the messages back and going, oh my God. But yeah. The fact that he was called Alejandro makes it just even better. The fact that he was called Alejandro makes it just even better. Yeah, I mean, it was just awful.

You know, I went back in after a while and he told me to sit down and we just laughed about it together. He was so good about it and so kind in his response. And it's characteristically him is to be kind, but he was so kind and thoughtful about the way he navigated talking to me about it. And that conversation from that failure led to a real lasting friendship. And so it was really important that that mess up happened. But I think the other thing about it was that I remember going home that night and thinking, wow, I have inadvertently come out to somebody and it's hilarious. And up until that moment in my life,

I hadn't had a lighthearted coming out. They'd always been really serious and really loaded with emotion and feeling and expectation and worry. And it should have been the same in this context. But because of the person that he was, and because of the friendship that we had just forged, it became this really wonderful thing. I remember it so fondly because I think that it indicated that something in me had shifted with my sexuality that's such a beautiful story hilarious and with this kind of beautiful ending and Lord Wilson sounds wonderful and actually you talk about how kindness is very prevalent in the bar and that you've been struck by how welcome you've been made to feel. But I wonder, you must also question

the diversity or lack of, of our judiciary. Do you think there's some way to go on that? Oh, completely. I mean, when I was at Supreme Court in 2013, they had one woman. I think they've now got three out of 12. I mean, it's not a numbers game, but they still don't have any ethnic minorities and the thing is the reason that judicial diversity to my mind is important is not for the sake of saying oh

I mean it is partly to say okay there is somebody that looks like me I can do this but it's also because judges are making the most important decisions that directly impact on people's lives. And the idea that they can do that without having any appreciation of what it means to be poor, to be faced with a circumstance where there are no good choices, or to have circumstance force your hand when it comes to a mistake that you've made or to be you know stopped by the police even it's ridiculous to argue that people making those decisions shouldn't understand life in its fully formed complexity i think i mean we talked about kindness but kindness is also related to empathy and i think that that when you have lived a different experience to most people that does

help you learn empathy and that means that when you are forced to make decisions that affect people, you can do so from a vantage point that is more than just logic and reason. Because I think when you are making decisions about people's lives, there is more to think about than just logic and reason. So Mohsin, I have my issues with the whole notion of a five-year plan, because quite often when I've had a five-year plan for myself in the past, I've got to that five-year point and I've been a really different person from the one I imagined. But I can't wait to see what you do next. And are you someone who has a five-year plan? I mean, what do you see next for yourself personally and

professionally? Oh my God, I wish I knew the answer to that. I think the thing is I've never known. I've always kind of stumbled from one thing to another and I'm really envious of people that have those five-year plans. I definitely don't know what the future holds. So Dutiful Boy has been optioned by a production company and I am working with them to potentially do some TV writing and so I've got some ideas for that. So I'm thinking about doing some TV writing. I've got some ideas for novels, because I think I'd like to do more writing. I think storytelling is such a powerful way of conveying a message. I always thought in some ways that the law was the most powerful way of conveying a message and changing things. But I

actually think that it's stories. As a criminal barrister, I do tell stories. The only thing I can say about the next five years is that I hope to be a storyteller in some shape or form I would also quite like to live in California I know that's really mad and nothing to do with anything that we're talking about but I just know you're talking to the converted here I mean I'm a huge fan of LA and spend a lot of time there I do you oh well if you ever need an assistant to help you with podcasts in LA then sign me up. I'll have to be your assistant. I would just love to live somewhere sunny and happening for a while. And I think the idea of moving to California sounds like a dream. I mean, I don't know what that would look like. And I'm

qualified as a lawyer in New York, but I don't know that I'd want to move over there as a lawyer. So I mean, basically, I've got no idea what the future holds and I've just thrown in a place that I would like to live as an answer. You have to put it out there send it out into the universe and how old are you now how young are you now you disgustingly young person? I'm 35 yeah I'm 35. Well not to sound like your grandma but I really do see such great things in your future and it makes total sense to me that you're going to become a huge TV writer and therefore end up in LA and just do some lawyering on the side. Oh, thank you. Well, let's hope so. I'm so glad that you said you are going to continue to tell stories because you have told

such an extraordinarily powerful one in A Dutiful Boy. And you have shared such beautiful stories with us here today. And I just cannot thank you enough for coming on How to Fail. No, thank you so much for having me. Honestly, I've been listening to your podcast for a long time. And there's been a lot that's been surreal about publishing a book. But having listened to so many amazing people and your really impressive questions, I literally jumped for joy when I found out that you'd want me to come on. So thank you so much.

Wait, that means so much to me. And you're making me well up again. It's just something about your voice. I can't thank you. That means a lot to me. It really, really does. You're a wonder. If you enjoyed this episode of How to Fail with Elizabeth Day, I would so appreciate it if you could rate, review and subscribe. Apparently it helps other people know that we exist.