Representation

What is representation?
Representation is not just
“Diversity for diversity’s sake,”
Throwing a “Muslim name” into the middle of a math problem or an exam question,
Novels in which the Muslim girl must date to find true happiness.
Representation is a movement, a feeling.
It is the feeling when you realize that a hijabi, too, can be an athlete, reach the Olympics,
When you realize that an Indian Muslim can be a beloved comic, can go on Ellen and correct how she pronounces his name without shame:
“If you can pronounce Ansel Elgort, you can pronounce Hasan Minhaj.”
When you tune in to a Senate hearing and see people who look like you, dress like you, Speaking out without feeling the need to hide.
Yet representation doesn’t exactly equal celebrity, those with wealth in the shining spotlight.
Representation can be quiet, too.
Trailblazers who saw no footprints in knee-deep snow and took upon themselves the arduous task of those first steps,
Forming a path for others to follow but receiving judgment instead of applause.
Because what would it feel like if children had more teachers, if we had more professors who looked like us?
(Because when I told my mother I might want to teach, she asked me if there were any Indian professors in the English department)
How would it be if we had more counselors who truly understood our backgrounds-
Not because they read a textbook passage on Muslim families but because they, too, had grown up in one?
What would it be like to have a mayor who prayed alongside us on Eid?
No, representation is not as simple as “diversity for diversity’s sake.”
It is looking up into the faces of those around you, of those in power
And seeing yourself reflected.
It is having role models on any scale, big or small,
Who juggled the same hyphen identities you do and came out the other end as themselves.

By Anonymous