We are delighted to welcome Saadia Faruqi to the blog.  Saadia is a Pakistani-American writer, essayist and interfaith activist. She writes for a number of publications including the Huffington Post, and is editor-in-chief of Blue Minaret, a magazine for Muslim art, poetry and prose. Saadia is the author of the Yasmin series and we welcome her to the blog to mark the publication of her new novel A Thousand Questions. 

Books have always been my lifeline. As a child, I read books to escape my less than perfect life in Pakistan. I read about fantasy worlds created by the brilliant Enid Blyton in primary school, then the intense characters of Shakespeare as a teenager. In my early twenties, I gobbled up all the classics, from Jane Austen to Daphne du Marrier, but also read countless trashy romance novels in the Mills and Boon series. In short, I read a lot.

I discovered so much in the pages of my books – hope, escape, entertainment – but the one thing I never found was myself. As a brown, Muslim, South Asian reader, I was never in the stories I read, except for the very occasional servant, an unwilling bride, or a malevolent terrorist. I was never the heroine of a hot romance, or the magical fairy that saved everyone from the wicked witch, or even the detective who solved the unsolvable crime. The worst thing, though, was that I never realized what a profound effect this erasure had on me, until I became a mother of two avid readers.

My daughter was six years old when she first threw down a book she was struggling to read and complained very loudly that she wasn’t going to read it because “none of the people are like me.” My son, older, and more pragmatic, began reading fantasy and horror exclusively, refusing to read contemporary, realistic fiction because “it doesn’t feel real.” It took me a while to understand that they were missing stories about children and families like themselves. Instead of being able to articulate this need, they – and probably countless other minority children – were just not reading as much. Maybe not at all.

I’d always thought, as a reader and a writer, that a great story is sufficient. Watching my own children and hearing their comments made me realize it wasn’t. My experiences as a mother trying to raise readers led me to study the importance of books in the context of their characters and setting. This is what I learned: Books aren’t just pages of a story. They are tools with which we learn to view the world around us. They should therefore include all of us, not just the majority. This includes culture, religion, sexual orientation, disability, and so much more. This means the books we read must reflect real life, even if it’s just a story. Even if it’s fantasy or sci fi.

When I first read about the concept of books as mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors, it was as if a lightbulb went on over my head. That’s what I’d been missing from my childhood. That’s what my kids were missing even today. Books that centered them, that spoke about their unique experiences. Books that told the tales of different kinds of people, living in different parts of the world. As an author, it’s important to me be an integral part of this concept: to share my books as mirrors, windows and sliding doors.

From my Yasmin series, to my newest middle grade novel A Thousand Questions, all my work is written with this essential concept in mind. My characters and stories are always personal. Always real. A story should be a mirror to some children, in that they can really see themselves as the main characters, and that these characters are written carefully and authentically. A story should also be a window, in that children who don’t share those experiences can read and learn and empathize. And finally, a story should be a sliding glass door that a child can open and step inside.

Only then can we serve all children through our writing, just like they deserve.