Ode to Wasima Khan | Fighting prejudice

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Wasima Khan was born in The Hague, the daughter of Pakistani immigrants who came to the Netherlands in the 1970s. She grew up in the multicultural neighborhood of Transvaal, near the Schilderswijk, a place that strongly shaped her. The neighborhood was lively, full of different cultures, and it was there that Wasima spent her youth. “It was always an interesting dynamic,” she says. “You are always switching gears. You are not really very Dutch, but not very Pakistani either, but that is what makes it special.”

Her parents, Muslims from Pakistan, passed on the rhythm of their culture to her. At home they celebrated Ramadan and Eid, while at school Wasima embraced Dutch traditions: Sinterklaas, Christmas and other holidays. “It was wonderful to experience both cultures, but also confusing. You never quite feel like you belong.” It was an inner conflict that often came to the surface. Wasima often felt like an outsider, a stranger in her own country.

As tensions in society increased, Wasima noticed that the world around her was becoming less and less tolerant. She was 15 when the 9/11 attacks took place, and from that moment on she felt the political atmosphere harden. She remembers walking to school every day in a predominantly white neighborhood, where she was sometimes called a terrorist. “I was always on my guard. You could just feel the tension in the air. It was as if I had suddenly become a target, purely because of my multicultural background,” she says.
 

The political atmosphere worsened further when Pim Fortuyn emerged with his harsh rhetoric against immigrants. Wasima felt isolated at school, where some classmates admired Fortuyn. “I was the only one in my class with a Muslim background. They always saw me as an ‘other’, even though I was born and raised here. It was as if I lived in a country where I would never belong.”
 

Wasima always tries to remain open-minded, but these tensions became increasingly visible. Even if she had nothing to do with the negative prejudices, she was still seen as a suspect. “People don't see you as an individual, but as part of something they are afraid of. It was painful, but it is something many Muslims in the Netherlands experience. The feeling that you are always seen as the ‘other’.” Wasima's experience is not an isolated case. Many who were born and raised here with a migrant background feel the same pain.

It became clearer when Wasima started working in her adult life and wore her headscarf. In her work as a teacher at The Hague University of Applied Sciences and later as a journalist, she was confronted with prejudices that did not leave her alone. Last year, she worked as a journalist in Amsterdam at “Follow the Money”, where she felt that the city had stolen her heart, but where she also did not escape the gaze of others. Despite Amsterdam being a cosmopolitan city, she notices that the divisions and tensions between the different communities are persistent there as well.

“I wear my headscarf and that always makes me stand out. You would think that if you were born and raised here, people would see you as part of society. But it's the other way around. My headscarf makes me a stranger, even though I've been here for so long.” Her greatest challenge came when she started teaching at the University of Applied Sciences in The Hague. “It was a mixed student population, but there too the tensions in society were visible.” As a law lecturer in public administration, she was confronted with a situation that would change her life forever. During a lecture, she used an app to practice exam questions, but what began as a normal session quickly escalated. A number of students began using anonymous pseudonyms such as “Geert Wilders”, “Zwarte Piet” (Black Pete) and even “Nouri is dead”. The slur 'whore' was even used, directed at her headscarf and femininity.
 

Wasima felt deeply hurt and decided not to remain silent. “That was the moment I decided to make my voice heard. I couldn't ignore it. My students had seen it too and I was worried about our safety. This wasn't just a joke. This was serious. And I had to say something about it.” She asked the students who was responsible for the insults. The silence that followed was intense. No one immediately exposed themselves. But Wasima addressed her students: “We will not stand for this in my lecture hall. You are the public administrators of the future. This kind of behavior does not belong in this hall, and it does not belong in our society. I do not want to hear this in my lecture hall, or anywhere at all.”

Turning point in her life
 

This moment was a turning point for Wasima. She felt that she could no longer continue as if nothing had happened. This was not only a personal attack, but an attack on what she wanted to see as a society. When she shared her concerns with her colleagues – all of whom were white – she found little support. “They didn't understand. It was as if they didn't take the problem seriously because they themselves were not confronted with Islamophobia. And in the end, when I found out that there were rumors that I might not be fit to teach because of what had happened to me, I decided to leave.”
 

Her departure was not only a loss for the university, but also a moment of growth for Wasima. She had found her voice and decided to share her story with a wider audience. She was invited to share her experiences on national television and noticed how the world outside the academic walls was more understanding of her situation. Wasima's story is not unique, but it is powerful. She is a woman who did not allow herself to be broken despite the obstacles imposed on her. She encourages others to stand up against prejudice and discrimination. “The first time you speak out, it's scary. But it's important. Don't let the discomfort sit with you, give it back to the other person. Nobody has the right to discriminate against you or belittle you.”
 

Women who inspire her

An inspiring woman for her is the late Maya Angelou, writer, poet and activist. Maya, as a black woman, transformed her pain into strength, Wasima says. “Her life was marked by traumatic events, which she emerged from in such a beautiful way. It transformed her into a very strong woman who shared her story with the whole world.” She ends her story with a message for women who experience similar challenges: “Look at yourself and be proud of who you are. You have the right to be seen for who you really are, regardless of what you look like, what you wear or what others think of you. Don't let anyone make you feel small.”
 

Wasima Khan is an example of resilience, of someone who fought through the toughest of times and found the strength to speak out, even when her voice was silenced by the gaze of society. Her story is a call to action, to understanding and respect for all women who fight daily against the prejudices that plague them.