Growing up as Pakistani-American Muslim in the South was sometimes a challenging experience. Nobody I met could pronounce my name (usually I told people it rhymes with “said”). In a very Christian region, I often stood out like a sore thumb, having to explain that I didn’t celebrate Christmas (a frequent annoyance in primary school) and that I’d have to pass on that drink (basically every day in college).
But these challenges did not cripple me. Even when I faced actual bigotry or discrimination, nothing I encountered gave me more than momentary discomfort. To be honest, the prejudice that persists barely impacts my life. The occasional nasty anti-Muslim email is not stopping me from having a successful career or friends and family who love me.
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