Shaina Zafar, IR, Class of 2021
"At some period, midway between fourth and fifth grade, we came to the US,” Shaina says. “I think it was a weird sentiment because for me Canada had become home - and it was less so Canada than it was the fact that my mom had become my home. I didn't really care about school or friends.”
Shaina Zafar, Class of 2021 (left).
“But my mom and I, we had a routine,” Shaina continues, gazing off as she reminisces. “On the weekends, I would go out to Tim Horton’s with my mom. I would love watching TV - it was always the Weekenders - and eating my pizza while they were eating pizza on TV.”
“I was living the childhood dream, I would say, because my mom would always be there when I needed her, and when she was at work I would get to watch TV, eat pizza, and do whatever I wanted - she would tell me there are cameras watching, she would point to the smoke alarm and say so. I remember going up to it once and saying “Mom, I know you’re watching, but guess what, I’m going to do it anyway.”
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For Shaina, a student in the Class of 2021 and current Chief Product Officer of JUV Consulting, moving around characterised much of how she saw the world.
“Moving from Canada to the US was a bit of a culture shock. I was in a diverse area, around people who looked like me and spoke my language, to an area that was an absolute white canvas, where I was living in a predominantly white neighbourhood with people who were Republicans, who probably didn’t have the same views that I had, and were of a higher socio-economic status. But you do this because you want to progress, to sacrifice for your kids.”
“I think that when I was growing up my parents had a very idealistic view of what the American Dream was. A lot of it was my mom working endlessly from early morning, Fajr time, through late nights, and throughout all of it she was making sure I made it to daycare, school, preschool. I think for a lot of immigrant families the equivalent of an American Dream is getting your education. So I’d be in daycare, after-school programs and she’d be there to pick me up after school.
“That was a huge part of understanding what my identity meant to me. As time went on, my ideas grew out, but my parents were always there as a sounding board to support and let me do whatever I thought was right to get me places that I wanted to be in. To be that person who - even though I don’t look like other people at the table - at least I have a seat at that table. I think that was most of my early childhood.”
“I grew up getting a taste of independence because my mom would never hold me back. Moving to England briefly, to Pakistan, I thought of myself as a global citizen. It’s important to surround yourself with people with different opinions, but more significantly, I believed that the actions I took on a micro level have an impact on a macro level. And that can simply even be smiling at someone when they walk by, because it made their day marginally better. The way you react is not one singular isolated instance - it has greater repercussions implicitly and explicitly.
“Moving around also changed the way I saw family. Your location, your age, your sex/gender, socio-economic status, any metrics that we as a society try to use to put ourselves in boxes, is absolutely nothing if you are surrounded by people you love and care for and make you feel absolutely comfortable. That’s what moving around really meant for me.”
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Shaina now prides herself on being super-social, always ready to meet new people and see what she can learn from them. But it wasn’t always this way.
“A lot of my childhood was growing up alone and being comfortable with the idea of ‘talking to the walls,’ as I was an only child at the time. But at the end of the day, even if my parents struggled, or if we came from a lower socio-economic level, I never felt like I didn't have the things other kids did. My parents never let me feel like I couldn't get the newest MacBook or the latest iPhone.”
“I think the birth of my brother - who is now 3 years old, we’re 16 years apart - was significant. I was very pessimistic about the possibility of having a sibling. I remember my grandparents would always read duas over the phone, that I get into a good school, get good grades, and I would always says “ameen, ameen.” When I was 14 or 15 my grandma would still say “inshaAllah God blesses you with a baby brother” and I was like “okay Grandma, I’m 14 but sure” - but I would still say Ameen and hope it came true.
And you never know what's gonna happen. His birth was a big shift, because on my dad’s side there are no boys - after 40 years, they now had a boy. And I could see a double standard from the start; my mom would tell me I could be a doctor, but when my brother came around she’d tell him he could be President and I could be his VP and I was like “Excuse me? If anything, he’s working for me!”
But that wasn’t all.
“I don't get to be a sisterly figure. I have to be maternal figure, I don't get to play around with him and push him because of the age difference. That was a big shift for me growing up. At the end of the day, if I am 32 with kids, my kids will have a 16 year old uncle. That’s kind of wild to think about, it’s something I‘ve had to think more critically about as well.”
When she was younger, Shaina had always wanted a sibling.
“I thought it would be comforting to have someone around you when others weren’t - but I had to become that for myself. I didn't want to bother my mom because she already had so much going on. I hate to inconvenience other people, so I used to think it would be nice to have a sibling to confide in. I was good at being around kids when I was younger, so there was definitely a moment where I wanted a sibling. As I passed 10 years old, I had become comfortable with my own space and my own thoughts and I was used to it, so I no longer felt I needed this to have a value add - I had friends, my mom, so I didn't feel at that time that it was something I was missing.”
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When asked about her childhood, Shaina instantly went to the pride she had in her heritage.
“It was important for me to emphasise who I was and my identity. It’s the reason for making people sure know how to pronounce my name and not whitewash the sound. It’s the reason that on Eid, I would wear Pakistani clothes to school when I was one of the only Muslim/brown kids there. When it came to school lunches, no matter what comments the kids around me would make, I would still bring my desi lunch - it’d be warm, it’d be delicious, and I never shied away form that because of the way that my mum had brought me up.”
“Growing up in a South Asian, Pakistani household, my mom definitely came from a religious background. My grandparents always had khatms at home, and if it was Eid or a Milad she would sing naats.” Things were a little different in her father’s house.
“He is one of 8 or 9 siblings, and he’s the oldest son, so definitely for him it was about providing for the family and the priorities were a little different. My dad had to do that because circumstances prevented my grandparents from doing so at one point.
With my mom, religion was always part of our life. We would pray, we would read Quran - I went to Quran school after classes - and every night before going to sleep, we would read the kalima and make dua. Whatever my mom told me, I did.”
“I think I started praying on my own at a very late age, in my mid to high teens. I prayed with my mom for a very long time. The way that I learned my duas and all was just through brute memorisation - it’s just the way I learned. When I came to the States, my dad started praying consistently and going to Jummah as well.”
Shaina’s Islam was also defined by her relationships - or lack thereof - with a greater community.
“Having a masjid and going frequently was never part of my life growing up. I remember we went once to a local masjid, to one of their events for Eid, and all the aunties were gossiping while someone was reading a dua. My mom was incredibly upset with this. She was upset at how people could have the audacity to gossip while Allah’s word was being read. After that, everything from Taraweeh to prayer to Jummah would be done at home. Our Islam was very individualistic in that sense, and there was no idea of the greater community and ummah being a larger part of that.”
This didn’t sway Shaina’s confidence in her faith: “I viewed Islam as a guideline on how to live your life. How blessed are we that God has told us what we need to do and what matters? From a day to day living point of view, things made sense to me. I had Islam as a guiding force.”
”I went to Catholic school for a year and I loved it. They would share stories, and so much of the Judeo-Christian tradition and Islamic tradition are so similar. The stories of Abraham, of Moses, of Jesus, of the ten commandments all made sense to me because of what they were saying. I think that’s another reason the idea of being a global citizen is relevant - experiences like this allowed me to see both the similarities and differences between them.”
“But I never shied away from being Muslim. I remember in fifth grade a kid asked me who my role model is, I said Prophet Muhammad, salallahu alayhi wa sallam, peace be upon him, the entire thing. This kid said to the kids around him, “guys - Shaina’s role model is Osama bin Laden.”
I told my mom, and she called the school, and it became a whole big thing. I never shied away from telling people these things were not okay, that making fun of my lunch was not okay. I never shied away externally from what it meant to be Muslim, but I’m not sure I had given much thought internally to what it meant to be Muslim.”
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When asked about MLP, Shaina’s experiences were profound.
“I used to think my place in the world was one-dimensional. You want to have a good family, a good job, a good education. That’s the bottom line, and a lot of that comes from the principles of my faith. But with MLP, I realised that I was missing community."
Ultimately, we are all living our own lives and it is important to find balance, but so much more of that is living in the United States, in this politically polarising time, you’re not going to understand your Islam unless you understand your community and the idea of the ummah at large.”
“To know where to find resources, to find community, to know there are people there to support you and that you can be vulnerable and that your relationship with your religion is meant to be multi-dimensional - these are all parts of a fulfilling spiritual experience. You’re meant to understand that there will be highs and there will be lows. I don't think I independently understood that until I came to college, until I came to Penn, and until I spent time at MLP.
At college, there’s a lot of tokenisation. I’m a brown woman, I’m interested in business, in IR, I have all these intersectionalities - but I ended up realising that with my Islam I am greater in all these things. I am greater with my community and when I question things, and I am doing that because Islam helps me understand my role in the world. That really shifted due to my experiences with MLP.”
“MLP gave me the agency to go and answer the questions that I was confused about, in the way that I needed them to be answered. I think the most significant impact has been a mindset shift. So much of my upbringing about Islam was taught by other people. When I came to MLP, for the first time I had the space to really understand things about my religion for myself, to answer questions for myself, and honestly to even call myself out.”
“MLP gave me the agency to go and answer the questions that I was confused about, in the way that I needed them to be answered. I think the most significant impact has been a mindset shift. So much of my upbringing about Islam was taught by other people. When I came to MLP, for the first time I had the space to really understand things about my religion for myself, to answer questions for myself, and honestly to even call myself out.”
“I came to college and had a very skewed perspective of what it was going to be. I’m a First-Gen, Low-Income student, and I thought it would be late night discussions and I’d do okay. I was not prepared for what was to come at all. I knew it would be difficult, but not this difficult.
In high school, I was someone who always had a plan. I had my scholarships, every single program, I spoke at the UN, I spoke at the World Bank, I was always in the hustle to find things to challenge myself with and always took the initiative. At Penn, on the other hand, I had no idea what to do. Everyone was talking about OCR, about finance, about consulting, and I was like, “I’m a freshman - am I supposed to know all of this?”
“It was an information overload. MLP, having halaqas, things for Eid and Ramadan, came down to showing me the fact that it is about the people you have around you more than anything else, more than any part of the hustle that is life at Penn. I realised that what I have at MLP - it’s something I want to have around me for the rest of my life.”
“I realised that what I have at MLP - it’s something I want to have around me for the rest of my life.”
“I’m in NYC for the summer, and I’m going to IC NYU halaqas, trying to read Islamic books, and I’m realising if I want my niyyat and intention to be at a high level, I need to put the work in and hold myself accountable. That’s been the biggest realisation for me. I don't want my kids to grow up with brute memorisation of prayer - I want them to know what it means, I want them to understand that this is the reason we read this due at this time, that this is why we fast, this is why we pray. And I want them to do it with conscious intention rather than because they were told to do so. That sense of re-awakening is what I think MLP provided for me, and it’s something I get to have with myself for the rest of my life.”
“That sense of re-awakening is what I think MLP provided for me, and it’s something I get to have with myself for the rest of my life.”