Huda on Huda

Last Friday, Mercersburg Academy welcomed renowned hijabi writer and illustrator Huda Fahmy, whose webcomics Yes, I’m Hot in This and the widely popular Huda F graphic novel series are internationally successful. Her book Huda F Cares? was a finalist for the 2023 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature.

What made her visit especially memorable for me, however, was not just her success, but also her name: Huda.

There were, quite literally, two Huda’s on campus at the same time. Not only two hijabis, but two Hudas. This would not usually be remarkable, except that Huda is not a common name, at least in my experience. The only other famous Huda most people seem to know is from a show sure to rot your brain: Love Island. So when I heard, “Huda is coming to Mercersburg,” it felt oddly surreal, like the universe had scheduled a meeting with my name.

From the moment Fahmy began speaking, she had the audience completely enamored. She balanced humour with honesty in a way that felt natural rather than rehearsed. One moment she was joking about awkward social situations; the next, she was talking about what it means to grow up Muslim in America. It was this mix of comedy and sincerity that made her talk feel genuine and relatable, not only to me, but to everyone in the room.

I found myself connecting deeply with what she shared. Fahmy described moving from a school where she was the only student who wore a hijab to one where she suddenly was not the only one anymore. My experience has been the opposite. At my school in the UK, I was surrounded by people who looked and dressed like me. But, coming to Mercersburg, I became the only student who wears a hijab. At first, this was intimidating. Being the only one made me more aware of myself in ways I did not expect.

In the United Kingdom, there is a large Muslim population, and visibility is normal. Coming to the United States, especially to Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, was a culture shock. Suddenly, I felt far more noticeable, not only because of my accent, but because of my hijab. Yet over time, that difference became something that made me more confident rather than less.

Listening to Fahmy speak about identity made me realise that standing out does not always mean standing alone. Sometimes, it means learning how to take up space as yourself. When I asked her if she ever felt like she had to do more than other people in her field or if she ever feels pressure to fit in she said, “I am done trying to change. I am done trying to be anything other than who I am.”

What made her talk powerful, to me, was that it did not frame Muslim identity as something tragic or heavy. Instead, she presented it as complicated, funny, and human. She did not try to turn her experience into a lesson; she simply told her story. In doing so, she created space for others to recognise parts of their own.

There was something quietly comforting about seeing someone with my name, my faith, and a similar background standing confidently at the front of a Mercersburg auditorium and telling their story. It reminded me that cultural identity does not have to be something you shrink or even hide to fit in—it can be visible, complex and still celebrated.