It has been two years since a far-right president, elected on a platform to protect America, moved aggressively to contain what has been promoted as the Muslim threat to American security. First, he adopted a registry of all Muslim Americans, followed by legislation to curb their access to work and the institution of a curfew. Growing up in a small liberal college town in California, Layla Amin hopes she is safe from such ugly Islamophobia although her father, a distinguished professor of literature and a poet, had been fired because several of his poems promoted resistance to tyranny: “Speak the truth while it is still alive, while / lips, cracked and bleeding, can still move” (33).

Layla sneaks out of her house one summer night to meet her boyfriend, David, her first love. Their rendezvous is short but passionate. They linger a bit too long, and Layla must run home just ahead of roaming armed guards. Her parents meet her at the front door and caution her not to take such foolish risks. Her parents are determined to cooperate with the increasingly oppressive government actions and to pretend life is still normal. “That’s not me,” Layla says.