Representation is a vital part of any identity, and I am no stranger to being underrepresented. It can give a voice to marginalized groups while simultaneously educating the masses. As a child of an immigrant and a Middle Eastern man, fighting for my place in the world is not a new experience for me. My life has been one where I fight to be seen and recognized, and one where I often feel isolated. Throughout my entire childhood, I never saw a character that I felt truly represented me. No matter how many books I read, I could not find myself. That is part of the reason why I am so adamant on being a book editor - if someone is part of this world, they deserve to feel seen. I don’t want anyone else to feel as though they have to conform to try and find representation. I want to ensure that the work being published provides accurate and kind representation. Books are also invaluable as a tool to educate others. Minorities shouldn't have to know how to teach the masses just to explain who they are - that's why accurate representation in books is so important. It lifts the burden of educating others from minorities. Misrepresentation, no matter how well-intentioned, can cause immense harm. Editing is a last line of defense, and I want to be the person who ensures that no stereotypes will be published. Additionally, any community deserves to see itself everywhere, to know that it belongs. Representation should not just be about suffering; it should be about reassuring someone that they are not alone. Fighting for a cause your entire life can make you feel worn down and question yourself. This is why seeing people like you in media is incredibly important; it reminds you that you have a place in this world, regardless of what others think. I hope that one day, another queer mixed kid will see a piece of media I worked on and think "That's me! Those are my people!" In the modern day, being an optimist seems impossible at times. While life is a rollercoaster of dips and rises, having a community always makes it better. Fighting to be artfully recognized is a battle that will hopefully end. Until then, I plan to contribute to that fight through education and morale. I want others, and myself, to know that a fight is never over until you've given up.

Being transgender is a constant battle to earn what others are given for free. I have to earn my place in the world, earn the right to be respected, to be understood, to be accepted. As a child of an immigrant and a Middle Eastern man, fighting for my place in the world is not a new experience for me. However, being transgender is a very different experience - and that holds true for every transgender person. I am agender, and I use all pronouns. This has led to my identity being difficult to explain to people, including my own parents. If I'm lucky, I won't have to explain the logistics of using all pronouns, or what being agender is. If a miracle occurs, I won't be misgendered or treated as a foreign object. During my exchange year in Lebanon (the country my father is from and lives in), I had to return to the closet. Gender roles are strongly present in Lebanon, and being transgender, especially in a sense that rejects gender altogether, may as well be equivalent to being from another planet. I only came out to a few of my extremely close friends, and for my own safety, they could not use all pronouns for me, only my birth pronouns. However, I am not a pessimist. The fact that a few people were accepting of me in a third world country with stiff gender roles was not a bad thing. It was a beacon of hope. It is proof that there's acceptance everywhere, and there is always hope. I also found fellow transgender and queer people in Lebanon (albeit through online spaces), and my father does his best to gender me correctly when he can. The presence of his effort and unwavering love towards me is enough to make me find confidence in my identity and future. In a world that seems so adamant on eradicating us, it is vital to find trans joy. My life has been one where I fight to be seen and recognized, and one where I often feel isolated. Realizing that I was trans and finding other trans people both online and in person has given me relief from that isolation. I found people who wholly understand and respect at least part of me, and they listen to the other struggles I have because they understand what it's like to be ignored. Ultimately, being transgender is a promise to keep fighting. To fight for a better future and to lend a hand to others while we work towards it. Since realizing that I was transgender, I've learned how to teach others about my identity, how to let insults slide off my back, and where to direct my focus. I now see the gaps in proper representation and the hostility the world holds towards us. My goal in life is to become a book editor, and while that wasn't influenced by being trans, I plan to use it to aid other trans people. Representation is a vital part of any identity, and I am no stranger to being underrepresented. It can give a voice to marginalized groups while simultaneously educating the masses. Trans people shouldn't have to know how to teach the masses just to explain who they are - that's why accurate representation in books is so important. Additionally, the transgender community deserves to see itself everywhere, to know that we belong. Fighting for a cause your entire life can make you feel worn down and question yourself. This is why seeing people like you in the media is incredibly important; it reminds you that you have a place in this world, regardless of what others think. I hope that one day, another trans mixed kid will see a piece of media I worked on and think "That's me! Those are my people!" In the modern day, being an optimist seems impossible at times. While life is a rollercoaster of dips and rises, having a community always makes it better. Fighting for trans rights is a battle that will hopefully end. Until then, I plan to contribute to that fight through education and morale. I want others, and myself, to know that a fight is never over until you've given up.