 When I was eight years old, we moved to Fresh Meadows and I met my new best friend, Gloria. And Gloria and I bonded over our love for the swings at the Big Kids Park. We played together every day after school. We taught each other Korean and Urdu words, and sometimes we even did each other's homework. But don't tell anyone. In the summers, we had these picnics in the park where we would lay back on the grass and we'd point out the shapes of the clouds to find all the Pokemon. And we'd share a pack of ramen noodles. We'd crack these noodles in half, sprinkle over the seasoning, and then eat them raw. We just really liked crunchy things and didn't know they were causing us stomach aches. But after 9-11, our friendship forever changed. When I finally saw Gloria again, it was on this golden autumn afternoon. I was wearing my favorite dress, the one with a big sunflower on top. She handed me our friendship bracelet, and an unopened pack of ramen noodles. We can't be friends anymore, she told me, because my mother says that you're a terrorist. It wasn't the first time that I had felt this otherness. It was one of many experiences that led me towards speaking up for others, towards having courage in the face of something unfair, towards allyship. And being an ally goes beyond pinning pronouns to our badges, or pronouncing our co-worker's names correctly. It's about putting actions behind our words and our commitments. It's especially and even in situations that make us uncomfortable. And it's about acknowledging that for many people, this feeling of otherness is constant. Systemic oppression is constant for many people. But the good news is that being an ally is not something that you have to learn all at once, all today, and all in one moment. It's a journey throughout your life, and you don't have to figure it all out, all at once. And I've been thinking a lot about what an ally-ship knapsack might include, what tools and provisions that we as allies can use to help support our work and uplift others. And the first step of building this ally-ship knapsack is grounding ourselves in some core commitments. Like I can educate myself about the experiences and perspectives of marginalized groups and listen to those groups when they speak. I can speak up when I hear someone saying something racist or inappropriate. And I can use my voice, my time, my platform to amplify marginalized voices by sharing their work, promoting their ideas, and helping to create more opportunities for them. I can donate my money to organizations that work to support marginalized groups. And I can use my social networks and my connections to advocate for policies and practices that promote equity and justice. But ultimately, theory without practice is meaningless. And the ally-ship knapsack is about recognizing that the power that we all have to make a difference and use that power into action. And sometimes these commitments can feel really abstract, like unrelatable in our everyday lives. So today, I'd like to share five examples with you of ally-ship that I've experienced so that you can have the opportunity to spot these moments that you can be an ally in your life. One, in team meetings, my manager notices that sometimes I'm a little shy to interrupt. He encourages me by acknowledging my ideas and giving me credit. Not only does this make me feel valued on the team, but this sets an example for the rest of the team to listen as well. A white male coworker noticing that a conference has a lack of diversity withdraws from the event. He educates the organizers about diverse representation and he offers to find more underrepresented speakers for the slot. His ally-ship is impactful because he's making a personal sacrifice to raise awareness and create tangible change towards a more inclusive community. At an airport boarding line, a young black woman stands up for me when an older man is shouting immigrant slurs. She confronts him and puts herself at risk in order to protect me. Her ally-ship demonstrates solidarity and a willingness to stand up against discrimination. After a late-night team dinner, my coworker offers to walk me back to my hotel to make sure I get there safely. His ally-ship builds trust and shows support for my well-being. And at the conference exhibit hall, some community members report a code of conduct violation after witnessing a situation where I was just really, really uncomfortable. Their ally-ship shows an unwillingness to tolerate bad behavior in our community. I still think about Gloria sometimes, especially when I'm making ramen, I'll break off a corner of the noodles and I'll eat them raw and I'll laugh because this memory is now a symbol of my resilience. It reminds me to move forward with courage in a world where oppression is constant. It's one of the many intersectional pieces that make up who I am. Child of immigrants, Pakistani-American, open-source contributor, daughter, niece, aunt, escape room enthusiast, and now keynote speaker. And as we journey through life, we'll continue to shape our identities through the experiences that we have and the choices that we make. So I hope that from today onwards, you'll choose to embrace ally-ship as one part of your identity as well because we all have the power to make positive change in our communities. And we can do that by choosing to be allies. Thank you.