Let’s call it what it is—bullshit.

I can’t remember a time in my American life where I felt truly held by my nation—where it ever embraced me back. For as long as I can remember, there’s been an attack on my people. Muslim countries are either being destabilized, sanctioned, occupied, or outright destroyed—and somehow, the same governments and corporations that enable this violence turn around and celebrate my culture when it benefits them.

They love my food, my fabrics, my aesthetics. They’ll wrap their campaigns in Arabic calligraphy, drop a ‘Modest Fashion’ line, or host a ‘Muslim Heritage’ event in the name of “diversity.” But when it comes to protecting Muslim lives—mine, our families’, our homelands’—they’re silent. Or worse, complicit.

This is not representation. It’s commodification. It’s performance. It’s profit.

You don’t get to love my culture and hate my people. You don’t get to tokenize my identity when it’s marketable, and then turn your back when I am grieving, protesting, and surviving. My people are not a trend. I am not a PR strategy. I am a whole people with histories, futures, and the right to dignity—whether I live in Detroit, Palestine, Baghdad, SOUTH Lebanon or Dearborn. 

I’m tired of the world trying to extract beauty from me while burying the truth of what’s being done to us. We are more than what you can sell. And I am not going to stay quiet while you dress up oppression as inclusion.

That’s exactly why I started Studyus Monday.

I don’t need approval—I need infrastructure. I don’t need celebration—I need solutions. Studyus Monday isn’t here to beg for visibility. It exists to build spaces where Muslim students are seen, supported, and centered. Where their values aren’t diluted. Where our identities aren’t flattened into a trend.

We deserve better—for our children, our communities, and our future.

And I am building it, whether the world is ready or not.