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As a writer, I have always felt it to be the easiest to convey my feelings, opinions, emotions through writing. For the first time, I am finding it the most difficult to gather what I am feeling into words. For the first time, I feel at a loss of words. In a paradox, I have discovered that though there are so many emotions gathered inside of me, it is still difficult to speak about them and rather impossible to write about them. Yet, as a writer, I feel a responsibility to use my words to spark conversation, to enlighten, to educate in a time where it is needed.
I grew up in Jersey City. I went to a rather diverse public school til the eight grade and then went to a predominantly white Catholic high school. I am Pakistani and Muslim so it wasn’t always the easiest to fit in. Growing up, most of my friends were of Hispanic descent or African American. In grammar school, my clique consisted mostly of African American girls. I still remember them; Diamond, Indigo, Kierra, Tiana. My nickname was Black Paki.
I never thought anything of race. It never crossed my mind that I was surrounded by African American girls. And this is normal. This should be normal. You should never second guess the people you are surrounded by because of their race but rather their character. My friends even visited my home and my parents never raised an issue or concern. However, I knew that…
