I have one more thread to share. I’m sorry for inundating your timeline, on this of all days, when there is plenty to inundate your timeline already. It’s selfish in the sense that I have something weighing on me and this is the most comfortable way for me to work through it.

I’ve shared before that my name was given to me by my three brothers all of whom have very traditional Pakistani names. When they came to states, they were relentlessly harassed and insulted. So they decided to name me Adam. My parents didn’t name me, my brothers did.

I have always been aware that it gave me a little bit of a hall pass with people. Because it allowed room for the benefit of the doubt. Now for most of you, you’ve only known me for a max of 10 years, via Twitter or TV or whatever. You’ve never had any issue with me as a person.

I’ve called your team’s games, made a dumb joke on Twitter you’ve laughed at, we’ve shared a round or two at some point. We’re cool. But there’s always been this pull in my gut, in my heart, that always reminded me that I was a minority. The peak of this was probably after 9/11.

But the combination of all of these things: the way my brothers were treated, the way I felt in high school because of my background, the general feelings of being disregarded...they’re all prescient. They never go away. You can never separate yourself from them.

And I got to a point where I hated my culture. I hated my background. I legitimately hated MYSELF. I didn’t want to be who I was anymore. And I had great friends who always said “we don’t see you for your background, we see you for who you are.” And I absolutely needed that.

You know who really understood? People who had been there before. The black dudes who lived down the street from my cousins. Jose V in my high school cooking class. Scott Hur, my best friend growing up who dealt with the same cooking smells in his house that I dealt with in mine.

They gave me the ability to feel good about my culture. About being a unique individual. And then I got older and made friends from every region around America. Who understood that they could learn SOMETHING from me. Maybe I could open their eyes to SOMETHING.

I share all of this because my first name gave me the ability to connect with the majority. My last name gave me the ability to connect with the minority. And suddenly, I felt fleshed out. I felt like a whole person. I am so fucking thankful for all of these elements. Truly.

I said the other day, I don’t mind being your brown friend. I don’t need to be seen without my color. Because it is unique to me. It is meaningful to me. No one who is being marginalized is asking us to see them as colorless. They are asking to be seen and embraced for it.

The way so many people, black, brown, white, Latinx, whatever, embraced me for it. Most of you have embraced me for it. It took a long time for me to come to that realization. That is so fucking powerful. It really is.

That’s why I try (and it’s really hard some days) to embrace the different. Even if it’s hard. You have to try and appreciate, or understand, why people feel the way they feel. If they’re hurt, or angry, or upset, or scared. And I know there are white people who feel left out.

It’s about understanding that these fears or insecurities stem from something that has been built over time. And I cannot expect the collective to suddenly come to this conclusion and for everything to change immediately.

So I’m asking you, the individual who is part of a greater collective, to try and embrace those who do not look like you or have the same experiences as you. Embrace the uniqueness of one another and then rejoice in the common ground that I know you can find.

Every experience I have had with someone from a different background shaped how I try to see the greater collective behind them. My black friends don’t speak for all black people, nor do my white friends for all white people, etc. etc. But it gave me an entry point to empathy.

I didn’t realize that it was empathy at the time when Andre asked me about my family or when I went to Scott’s church or when Anila took me to a wedding or when Alyssa offered me a ride home or when Jose’s mom made me an empanada. But it was empathy. And it shifted my view.

And it compelled me to reach back. To ask about what makes people happy. What makes them hurt. What makes them laugh and cry. Your viewpoints just change with exposure to others. They just do. THAT is at the core of what shapes our humanity, our care for one another.

So I close with expanding your viewpoint. I am not talking about policy, although it is crucial. I am not talking statistics, though I understand their usage. But there are plenty of much smarter people than me involved with those things.

I am speaking to you on as human of a level as I can: please stop closing each other off. Please see one another for the hopes and dreams and goals we all have, and understand that people are trying to surpass their circumstances to achieve those things.

The ties that bind us are heavy, which means they can be strong, perhaps unbreakable. But they take a lot of work from a lot of people to maneuver them and tie them properly to create that bind. I am going to keep trying. I know you will, too. I hope sooner rather than later. -AA