by Fawzia Mirza
In 2016, I felt like I’d made it.
Like, really made it in this biz.
I had dreamt of being an actor who was telling stories at the highest level, someone who was recognized by my peers and within my community.
Then, on Wednesday May 4, 2016, I was invited to the White House! I was told I was to be recognized as a ‘Champion of Change’ in Asian American Storytelling. “The ‘Champion of Change’ program honors individuals doing extraordinary things to empower and inspire members of their communities. I was a queer, South Asian Muslim, writing and acting in stories where my community was at the center. My mission was to change lives, have cultural impact through art and storytelling. To show people Asian Muslims exist and have worth and are valued members of our community. My goal was to cultivate compassion and healing through my work. Along with ten other Asians (two of whom have since become amongst my closest friends, Taz Ahmed and Jenny Yang), I was deemed to be doing “extraordinary things.” Me. I had made it. In my Tom Ford stilettos I’d purchased just for this occasion. Gay asians had made it! Gay Muslims had made it! We had championed change, and now things were really going to get better for us. Our work was done.
It’s now 2025. There are over 575 anti-LGBTQ bills in the US. Roe v. Wade was overturned, abolishing decades-old federal protections of bodily autonomy, with even emergency or medically necessary abortions at great risk of being banned. The on-again, off-again Muslim ban is back on again, reinforcing a deeply racist and Islamophobic view of 1.8 billion people in the world. And despite being 25% of the world’s population, Muslim representation on TV makes up only 1% of speaking characters. A Supreme Court allowed Trump to ban trans people from serving in the military. Some states are pushing legislation to criminalize drag shows, and LGBTQ organizations are getting their funding cut but the NEA. ICE is snatching people in the middle of the night, detaining them and deporting people under the guise of protecting foreign policy. 1st Amendment rights are under attack, as pro-Palestinian activists of all ages and backgrounds are being harassed, detained, and deported.
In this reality, nine years later, I’m deeply aware of how naive 2016 Fawzia was. Thinking that from that one moment of recognition, one pair of designer high heels, and everything would change. That I was finally going to get the approval of my industry and country and peers and that it would be safe for people of my identities to be visible and public and out. But what did I think ‘making it’ even meant? And where and what is that elusive and fantastical place of ‘IT?’ Take a sharp right past Oz, turn left at the cemetery, climb up behind the Hollywood sign and you’ll see the path. I mean. So today, reflecting on that glimpse of hope 2016 Fawzia had, I wonder: What does it mean to be a ‘champion of change in 2025?’
Since being named a champion, I have doubled down (tripled down? quadrupled?) on centering my communities in my storytelling. And my storytelling has reached more audiences, and, I hope, contributed to the growing movement towards actually authentic representation that I dreamt of. My understanding of my own identity has also deeply evolved – not just as a queer, South Asian, Muslim person (who now exclusively wears sneakers) but as a multi-faceted artist, first an actor and writer and now a director and producer – and that’s helped me to understand that Asian American art and storytelling alone will not bring us the liberation that we seek. Just as we all hold multiple identities, our storytelling needs a multiplicity of voices. Our needs as Asian people cannot be separate and apart from the needs of the gay community, the trans community, the Black community, the Muslim community or the Palestinian people. To truly ‘champion change,’ as Asian American storytellers, we have to fight for change that will liberate ALL of us. I didn’t invent the phrase, ‘None of us can be free until all of us are free’ but I feel the need to repeat it here.
Being a champion of change has to mean more than a fleeting moment of recognition, a program that can be erased by a government at a whim. It has to mean a commitment to changing the status quo, even if the status quo might be actually approving of your specific identity at that moment. It has to mean a commitment to doing the right thing even at risk to self and popularity. To fighting to tell your own story, while also fighting just as hard for everyone who can’t tell theirs. It has to mean staying true to your values even when the values of your industry, communities or even family, are out of alignment.
Our queer and trans communities know this – we are what we have. Our power is in our collective – and that power is not given to us nor taken away by our government. It is with us. So on that note, instead of relying on the ‘White House’, let’s start from my ‘Brown House’– I Fawzia Mirza, with the power granted to me by this op-ed, I nominate a group of Champions of Change in Asian American Art and Storytelling. And because I’m queer, these folks are all queer too. I believe in our collective, in our intersections, and in the power of these people to uplift all the communities that need it. In no particular order:
- Poppy Liu @poppyliu
- Kausar Mohammed @kausartheperson
- PJ Raval @pjraval
- Andrew Ahn @andrewahnfilms
- Roshan Sethi & Karan Soni @goatdonkey1 @itskaransoni
- Alok @alokvmenon
- Amrit Kaur @amritkaur
- Fatimah Asghar @asgharthegrouch
- Sonya Passi @freefromdotorg
- Una Osato @thisisuna
- Geena Rocero @geenarocero
- Nik Dodani @nikdodani
Fawzia Mirza’s feature film, THE QUEEN OF MY DREAMS (thequeenofmydreams.com) a queer, Muslim, South Asian movie centering the joy, resilience and beauty of Muslim women opens in theatres June 20 in select cities around the U.S. Follow @thefawz and @thequeenofmydreamsmovie on Instagram for more.
