Thread by @KarunaRiazi

I'm measuring out my words on this and don't be surprised if this thread disappears. Today, at #nerdcampLI, I had a great time. I saw good friends. I hung out with the amazing, stupendous organizers. I delivered a keynote that despite my nerves and stress, seemed to land well.

But there is one moment that I have been dissecting for hours afterward. And I decided that I wanted to address it. Because I feel that by not addressing it and letting it go, I'm going to let it bother me for a while. So, here we go.

So, I went to the signing area early to acclimate myself and get my things out and prepare my people face. I'm an introvert who can masquerade pretty well as an extrovert and I need time to breathe and prepare myself.

I was seated next to a woman of color author I admire and that was pretty epic. We socialized for a little bit, and then she briefly moved or started a conversation to her other side - I cannot remember.

And then an educator I didn't recognize or speak to previously came.

What struck me about it immediately afterward was that she timed it after one of the organizers came by to check on me, and when the other author at my table was not paying attention to my side.

I was still seated, and she leaned down so that she was directly near my face.

"I need to tell you something after your keynote," she said, "and don't get offended."

Those words instantly made me lock up. Like. They never mean anything good as a woman of color.

She then went on - and I'm not going to do exact quotes after this because I was honestly both shocked and tamping down on my temper - to tell me that she felt the need to instruct me on how to properly pronounce J.K. Rowling's name, which she said I repeatedly mispronounced.

Still leaning into my space, and my face, she repeated Rowling's name twice. I think I was supposed to repeat it? Or say okay? Or apologize? I just looked at her with a neutral face.

That was the main active choice I made. I was instantly sure I didn't need to apologize.

Now, you know me. I'm a very apologetic person. I worry about misstepping constantly. I don't set out to dismiss anyone's name being appropriately pronounced.

But let me tell you about my keynote.

My keynote opened with a disclaimer that I never read Harry Potter, before discussing J.K. Rowling's saying that "Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home." I actually Googled THAT before I delivered the speech to confirm I didn't get it wrong.

I used that saying as a springboard to discuss the importance for educators and authors, particularly here and now, to think about how our words and books are becoming liminal homes for readers. I stressed marginalized readers should be welcomed and humanized with everyone else.

The area of my keynote I regret? I made a deliberate choice to discuss how Hogwarts, while being a refuge for so many during their childhood, did not include and often outright dismissed others who still found ways to write their own selves into the fandom.

I regret that because even as it left my mouth, it felt like an understatement. I did see many lovely educators in the audience nodding emphatically, though, which gave me hope and heart that they are aware of the many, MANY discussions about poor rep in Harry Potter.

The point of my keynote was not about Harry Potter, or Rowling. I actually praised Rowling for the fact that she (possibly unwittingly) made a point of noting how her books had become this refuge for readers around the world.

Anyway, back to the moment with this educator. I wanted to give you context so you could understand. I want to say that I maybe used Rowling's name directly three times, using a pronunciation I had heard friends who did read the series use.

After I did not repeat after her or give any physical or verbal confirmation, she then went on to say that she was telling me this for my own good, because she is a "die-hard fan" and "die-hard fans get very sensitive about Rowling being respected and her name being respected."

This is where I did say something. I said that I hoped that she, and those fans, are equally as passionate and sensitive when any author of color's name gets mispronounced.

She looked at me for a moment and did not respond.

She then tried to give a compliment, I think, by saying that it was a magical moment for her as a Harry Potter fan to be at this event and hear J.K. Rowling's words from someone, and gestured toward me.

Whether or not she enjoyed my own contributions to my keynote was unsaid.

She then stressed twice that "it's a shame you haven't read those books, you really should read them."

Part of why I mentioned the representation in my keynote is because that lends to my reluctance in reading them.

At this point, I was starting to question my own judgment and worry that I was being too sensitive. So I think I smiled and said "we'll see" or something equally noncommittal.

She repeated, "You should make time and read them," said a quick and tight-sounding thanks and ran.

Here is how I felt after this interaction: shocked, confused, a bit wryly amused at myself (I had told a friend just a few minutes before in the author green room that at least, at this event, I hadn't experienced a microaggression) and small.

I felt very, very small. I felt ignorant. I felt like the uneducated, not able to pronounce words brown girl that she apparently saw sitting there. I think part of the repetition of the name was the implication that I'm brown and wearing a hijaab and "don't know anything."

For a few minutes, it didn't matter that educators and authors I admire had enjoyed that keynote - that a dear friend and fellow MG author was brought to tears while recording it. It didn't matter that I stood and delivered it with my kids (class)' faces projected behind me.

For a few minutes, I thought that woman spoke for all. That people were walking away with the only takeaway being, "That Karuna Riazi girl cannot pronounce Rowling."

AND THIS REMINDS ME THAT I FORGOT A KEY DETAIL.

After I said that line about her hopefully being as passionate about authors of colors' names being pronounced properly, she said, "Well, I don't think I could even pronounce your name."

That was the moment, when I thought back and tried to calm myself down, that I got angry.

So, to the educator who listened to my keynote: I apologize that you had to think about my mispronouncing J.K. Rowling's name for the entire day, through several sessions of enlightening dialogue and discussion about how to best serve and support our students.

I hope it didn't weigh too hard on your mind as passionate educators shaping the future shared ideas, shed tears speaking about the students whose lives they are touching and stressed the importance of supporting each other in the field of education.

I really feel terribly that due to one mispronounced last name, you had to take it upon yourself to approach and educate a girl whose name has been mispronounced for years with few defenders or consideration from many educators in her life.

I am terribly sorry that ensuring that I could properly speak the English language hammered by colonialism into my family's heritage meant you neglected to listen to the parts of my keynote where I talked about kids in cages and Muslim kids worrying about school shooters.

I hope all of this makes you feel better, because I know what you said was supposed to make me feel terrible after a day of good interactions and good people.

And it didn't. It made me angry. And my anger only fuels me.

So I apologize now. Because I'm not sorry for how frustrated you are going to be as I keep up pushback on series that do not acknowledge my humanity, mispronounce words while using the platform given to me to educate, and hopefully deliver more keynotes that touch hearts.

For any "she meant well" responses: I would like to repeat that this woman vanished. She disappeared right before another organizer came by and glance toward me.

I have no name or school. I did mention her to an organizer who was apologetic and perplexed.

The only person I genuinely feel apologetic to in this entire situation was my seatmate who I only met properly today, and who I turned to and blurted the interaction to just so another woman of color could tell me if I was too sensitive or not.

She too thought it was bizarre.

In any case, I am grateful to #nerdcampli for love and support, the reminder that I am doing work that matters even when I feel inadequate, and every person today who felt what I meant behind my keynote: children need homes in fiction where they are seen, loved and respected.