As I sat down to write my first ever article, I tried to think about what I wanted to talk about exactly. I wanted it to be something meaningful, something I stood for. After a few hours of thinking, I finally recalled an article that I read a few weeks ago that was published in Seventeen magazine. The article told the story of a young Palestinian woman, Yasmine, and how she was wrongfully sent to Palestine when she was an adolescent to get married, escaped her marriage and fled the country, came back to the U.S., and was later adopted by a white family. I initially thought the story was beautiful and I was elated that child/teen marriages were finally getting some of the media coverage it rightfully deserved. However, I later realized that maybe the story could have done some harm.

Less than an hour after I read the Seventeen article, I came across a response from a fellow Muslim-American woman criticizing Yasmine's story. In this follow-up article, author Jenan Matari talks about how - yes, it is wonderful that this sort of thing got attention - but it also set us Muslim-Americans back, because what Yasmine failed to mention was that occurrences like hers are not the norm. An angry Matari goes on to provide evidence from the Quran, Hadith, and quotes from Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) that encourage education in women and discourage forced marriages.

Matari was angry that media outlets like Seventeen were not sharing stories like hers - stories about Muslim-American women who were not allowed to date, but only to focus on their education and successes. Earlier this month, Matari updated her article saying that Yasmine's story originally came from another website and that when Seventeen found it, they played up the Palestinian part of her life; and that Good House Keeping and Cosmopolitan shared Seventeen's version of the story.

I find this to be completely unfair to the members of the Dearborn community, and every other Muslim-American community, who are living completely normal, "American" lives. Matari inspired me to share my own story, though mine does not compare to hers.

I grew up in a Muslim-American household - my parents immigrated when they were very young so they grew up to become Americanized. My brother and I grew up speaking English in our home instead of Arabic. I did attend Arabic school on Saturdays for four years and while I did not really grasp onto the language, I learned a lot about my religion and I learned to pray there (with the help of my parents at home, of course). My parents drilled into my head how important it was to pray and have a connection with Allah.

Growing up some more, I got more and more into music and art; I started playing the guitar when I was thirteen and listened to the same three Paramore albums on a loop. Going through high school, I was allowed to have guy friends and join clubs and spend countless hours in my room drawing in my sketchbook with the music blaring - all while making the time to get good grades and to pray. Now in college, I am growing into a person my mom loves to brag about; striving towards obtaining a degree in a subject that she teaches at a high school and taking all the same professors she did five years ago, starting a chapter of a sorority, creating the best art I possibly can, and getting involved in politics. She nor my father never forced anything onto me, not religion, not putting on a hijab, and no, not marriage.

I know there are countless Muslim-American men and women who are trying to break down the wall of stigma and stereotype with accomplishments, successes, and being absolutely, typically American. And it is our job that if major media outlets will not help us let our voices be heard, then we must shout as loud as we can, together.