I was born in Trinidad. My parents are from Barbados, and I grew up in Toronto. I also lived in Saudi Arabia for six years. And I've been an American citizen for 15 years. I didn't belong anywhere and I belonged everywhere. I'm a citizen of the world.

When I was in high school, we went to a mosque for a field trip. We were taking world religion. Afterward, I sat and talked to people there. I asked questions. It was the '60s and I had been pretty wild and crazy. In Islam, I was drawn to the unity of God and the discipline.

One of the big differences between Canada and America is that America is a melting pot. When you come here, you assimilate. If you have a name that's hard to pronounce,, you're encouraged to change your name to something a little more American. That's how a Mohammed can become a Matt. It's part of the assimilation.

The Canadian model of multiculturalism is different. It's a mosaic. You've got all these separate tiles. You've got Sikhs, Indians, Canadian natives, Poles, Italians -- and each get put together to make up the whole. Everybody maintains their identity, but it's not at the expense of being Canadian. Whereas here, it's almost as if you maintain your identity, then you're somehow not loyal to America.

When we talk about patriotism, is it something that narrows your scope or is it something that expands your vision? I think that, as citizens of the world, we have to cultivate the ability to be able to look at this from different frames of reference.

For example, when we talk about patriotism in America, we have slogans like "Give me liberty or give me death" or "Live free or die." That's a frame of reference we feel very comfortable with here. However, if someone else in another country -- say, a Palestinian -- says "Live free or die" or "Give me liberty or give me death," all of the sudden it's something else. It's not patriotism.

It's very interesting. If someone invaded America, of course we would all stand up and fight. Now that Iraq has been invaded, the people who are standing up and saying, "We don't want you here" are not called patriots; they're called insurgents. It's your frame of reference. This whole discussion of patriotism is a privilege of a superpower.

When I was growing up in Canada, there were no images of people of color in the media or in textbooks. Even though my father was a chemist and my mother was a teacher and nurse, I internalized this sense of inferiority. This is the same thing that happens to Muslim women. The only images they see of themselves are of being oppressed and repressed. They are these faceless nonentities.

I founded Azizah in 2000. The magazine highlights the accomplishments of Muslim women. We profiled a Muslim woman who presides over an American court -- things people would never know.

I picked Azizah for its meaning. In Arabic, "azza" means "strength" and it also means "dear." So there's this combination of dearness and strength, which to me is the epitome of a perfect woman.