For the general population, the racial diversity in the ridiculously popular Harry Potter series was more than controversial. With the only east Asian character–Cho Chang–not being introduced until book three, and the naming of black character Kingsley Shacklebolt, support for author J.K. Rowling has more than dwindled. While this may be old news now, to eight-year-old me reading the series for the first time, it meant the world.

Since the only character that somewhat matched my ethnicity–Vietnamese, Filipino, Mexican, and European–did not align with my reality, I adapted. Ignoring each character’s physical appearance, I decided to align instead with Hermione Granger, the stereotypical nerd who I strived to become. My newfound identity held me over for a few years, but as I was a preteen turning teen, my want returned.

I was nine years old when the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and turned ten four days after quarantine officially started. Throughout the lockdown, both due to my age and the ever-present lack of activity, I began my social media journey. My first stop: TikTok. I had made online profiles before, but only ever for video games, and when asked to provide my first bio–150 characters to describe your entire personality in an aesthetically pleasing way–I turned to other people. My best friend, her friends, their friends and just about all of my peers had one thing in common: a country flag. Naturally, I did the same, walking through all my ethnicities in my head–Filipino, Vietnamese, Mexican and…white? French? Which flag do I put? Despite my hesitation, the four flags now displayed underneath my (very ten-year-old) username represented me. For once in my life there was a place that encapsulated my entire identity, my entire family.

And yet, despite having a place–entirely under my control–to display me, it still never felt like me. First, because I had four flags, not one or two like my peers around me. Second, because I did not feel that any of those flags represented me. I could not say I was proud to be Filipino, or proud to be Mexican or proud to be Vietnamese. There are many third-generation immigrants who are deeply intertwined with their culture, but I am not one of them. I never learned Spanish nor did I learn the Vietnamese holidays and traditions my grandparents and their family celebrated. Associating, even slightly, with any of my ethnicities felt like impersonation.

Attending BVH, a school with an incredible amount of ethnic diversity among its students, it would not be unreasonable to assume everyone feels included. From Samahan to the Black Student Union, everyone should have a place. Even if there were clubs for each of my ethnicities (there are not) and I could participate in all four of them, I would not feel a sense of belonging in the slightest.

When the characters that are supposed to represent you look nothing like you, a sense of alienation is only natural. When that confusion is echoed in your social life, things hit a little bit harder. I have, since then, accepted that my melting pot of countries will likely not be represented in the media any time soon. Despite this, that does not mean the internet will be void of all forms of representation.

A few days ago I was checking my inbox, only to find that I had been spammed with promotional emails. Most were from brands–Bath and Body Works, Hot Topic, Ticketmaster–some from universities and two that actually caught my attention–announcements from Laufey. It is no secret that Laufey’s music video–Madwoman–has recently been released, starring Olympian Alysa Liu, actor Lola Tung, actor Hudson Williams and singer Megan Skiendiel. These celebrities are united in two (three if you count the music video) ways. First, they are all stars pulled from different corners of Gen-Z media. Second, (and more importantly,) they are all a mix between Asian (most of them Chinese) and another race. Watching that music video, seeing the cast and googling each of their ethnic backgrounds, a part of me felt seen that never had before.

It may be hard for some to understand how one can find representation with a group of people who look nothing like them. Despite being an Asian mix just like the cast, I do not resemble them in the slightest, but that is the point. Not only do I not mirror the cast, but they do not look like each other. Your physical appearance, at least how similar it is to others you are “supposed” to look like, should not consume your identity.

I am still making peace with my lack of connection to my family’s culture. It is not a void that can be filled with chic bios or a club for high schoolers just as mixed as I am. Rather, I am learning that there are other parts of my identity–my interests, hobbies and extracurriculars–that give me people to bond with. As for the media, projects such as Madwoman are the first steps to creating a more inclusive internet for our increasingly diverse world.