The Politics of Visibility: Reflections on a Memorable Academic Pilgrimage
Insights from APSA on belonging, resilience, gratitude, and the power of faith and community-funded scholarship.
“A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a human perfected without trials.” - Seneca
Dear qualitative Inquisitors,
As October comes to a close, I finally find myself sitting down to write this long-awaited edition. It’s been two months since the last one, two months of reflection, and just processing. The reason for that pause will become clearer as you read on, because sometimes, the time between words is a necessary form of research, as we sometimes need to pause to reflect on lessons, emotions, and insights.
In my last few editions, I shared glimpses of my fall conference season and the momentum leading up to it — writing, submissions, travel planning, and the faith it took to make everything possible.
I’m grateful to say: I made it to APSA!
This past September, I participated in both the American Political Science Association (APSA) Annual Meeting and the Teaching & Learning Conference (TLC). It is a small milestone that marks both professional progress and personal determination and perseverance.
I’m still holding on to that incredible joy of accomplishment, that sense of “it all worked out somehow,” even when so much was uncertain.
I have come to learn to embrace uncertainty. I remember as those moments were unfolding, I was shocked that it was actually unfolding.
Earlier this year, I had the privilege of performing Umrah, the Muslim pilgrimage, another surprise journey that continues to impact how I understand purpose, patience, and visibility itself. I have begun documenting parts of that experience in my ongoing Field Notes series — a reflection on faith and movement that also frames much of what I share here.
I hope to come back to that soon!
My last edition captured the Boston experience. This edition will take you to Vancouver, Canada — my first time there. The air felt alive with both possibility and nostalgia. It was a truly productive, fruitful, beautiful, challenging, thrilling, romantic, and memorable time among fellow political scientists, while taking in the healing power of the water and mountains.
I have not been able to return to this reflection until now, partly because I wanted to write it with honesty, not haste. This post is about what it really took to get there: the courage, lessons, and the moments that followed.
But before diving in, I want to take a moment to thank you — my readers, subscribers, and especially my paid subscribers — for your continued patience and support. I hope these reflections continue to bring you something valuable and human. I am grateful that you are here, growing with me as a community that values All Things Qualitative — inquiry, introspection, and the stories that make us who we are.
Please feel free to share what you think!
The APSA Conference Experience
Returning to APSA after three years felt like a homecoming beyond just a conference, but to a part of myself that had been waiting to breathe again, yearning for the opportunity to be in this space, and continuing to nurture both identity capital and social capital.
At the APSA Annual Meeting, I had the opportunity to present three pieces of my ongoing research: two papers and one poster. Over the course of those few days, I met book publishers, attended the career fair, spoke with potential employers, and connected with brilliant minds who reminded me why I chose this path in the first place.
Beyond the sessions and panels, I found healing in the stillness of the water and the mountains surrounding Vancouver’s waterfront.
My first presentation was a poster titled “Empowering Communities: The Rural Support Program Network Model of Indigenous Development in Pakistan.”
Just a month earlier, I presented this same poster at the PolNet Conference at Harvard University in Cambridge — an experience I wrote about in a previous Qi edition. I am truly grateful to everyone who stopped by at either event to listen, ask questions, and engage with my work.
As I stood there, I was reminded of the voices behind the data — the more than 180 interviews that took six to eight months to transcribe and nearly a year to code. That was before the newer qualitative coding tools we have today — a reminder of how much of that work once relied solely on endurance, intuition, and heart.
I remembered the village women in Sindh who told me, “Allah aap ko kamyab kare” — May Allah make you successful. Their words continue to travel with me across borders, and it felt profoundly significant to bring their stories into an international space like APSA in Canada.
My second presentation, “The Politics of Invisibility: Gender Apartheid and Purdah in Afghanistan & Pakistan,” became both timely and personal.
It was the first time I presented a paper in a panel wearing the Hijab, as a new Hijabi, speaking on the invisibility of women in Muslim-majority countries — a topic connected to my master’s and doctoral fieldwork. Though the audience was small, the moment was very special.
As I looked out at the mountains before me, I felt that metaphorical climb — the uphill journey for every woman (especially those from marginalized communities) toward being seen, heard, and understood.
That paper was born out of my own encounters with invisibility — experiences that inspired me to explore invisibility itself as a mechanism of gender-based violence. It’s a novel framework I intend to keep advancing as I revise this paper for publication in the year ahead.
Finally, at the APSA Teaching & Learning Conference (TLC), I presented my paper “Beyond the Classroom: Combatting Stigma and Empowering Mental Health in Academia.”
This presentation was especially significant. I arrived in Canada on September 10th — World Suicide Prevention Day — and three days later, I stood before colleagues presenting on mental health in academia during Suicide Prevention Month. The timing felt divinely symbolic, a moment of alignment between my scholarship and my life experiences. Faith becomes a major driver of success in our lives, and for that reason alone, it cannot be separated from our academic and professional work.
I’ve written a more complete reflection on that presentation here: Surviving Academia, Sustaining Hope: A World Mental Health Day Reflection.
The feedback I received throughout APSA — from my panels, poster sessions, and informal conversations — was very encouraging. More than anything, it reminded me that every presentation and exchange contributes to the state of our own belonging, in helping us refine our voices. It acts as a small bridge between who we are and who we are becoming as scholars.
The Connections
Across all three of my talks, I kept returning to the same thread: inequality, belonging, social inclusion, empowerment, and global justice. These ideas have been at the heart of everything I’ve done this year, as I continue to ask what genuine inclusion and belonging truly mean in academia.
After months of writing, revising, and even fundraising just to be there, arriving at APSA felt like a small miracle — an act of perseverance made visible. I left with both an incredible sense of accomplishment and a handful of hard lessons.
I’ve come to believe that 90% of this work (especially for those of us navigating structural barriers) is simply about the courage to show up, to be seen, and to keep showing up even when the odds feel stacked against you. Academia often glorifies perfection, but these spaces are meant for learning — not performance. They are for feedback, experimentation, and growth. This is not to suggest we lower our standards, but rather ease the pressure and take it as an opportunity to grow.
If you stumble while presenting, if your slides glitch, or your ideas still feel unfinished, remember, you have already done something remarkable. You have shown up with persistence and faith, and that alone is a form of academic excellence that too often goes unrecognized.
Every imperfect presentation, conversation, every small step is part of the journey. They remind us that showing up with resilience and heart, especially when resources are limited, is not just about a professional achievement. For many of us, it is survival. And it is the very essence of what makes this path rewarding and impactful.
Reflections on The 2025 Educational Crowdfunding Campaign
I want to share a few words about my educational crowdfunding campaign from this past summer. You can learn more about it in the links I’ve previously shared and here:
For the moment, I want to revisit what it meant to me and what it revealed.
First, I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who saw the campaign, engaged with it, or supported it in any way — whether through contribution, encouragement, or amplification on social media (X, Substack Notes, LinkedIn, YouTube, Threads, Instagram, direct emails, and beyond).
Overall, the campaign was a success in its most important goal: it helped me reach the APSA PolNet Conference in Cambridge, the APSA Annual Meeting, and the APSA Teaching & Learning Conference in Vancouver. For that, I am truly grateful.
But more than funding, the campaign was meant to represent something bigger — a model of community-powered research, emphasizing the values of mutual aid, solidarity, and public scholarship. I wanted to explore what it might look like for independent scholars to be supported by their communities, much like independent artists or journalists. I envisioned it as a potential living example of academic mutual aid — of what “belonging” could look like beyond institutions.
The Hurt and Invisibility
Still, I must be honest. This campaign was not an easy endeavor to navigate emotionally. Part of the reason I delayed writing this edition was that I needed time to process the hurt that came from seeing my campaign largely dismissed by professional and personal networks alike.
After returning from the conferences, I felt very unsettled with grief and shame. I realized I may not be able to continue the campaign (which I intended to, especially with the goal to continue the research post-APSA) — at least not right now.
The lack of engagement, even the lack of acknowledgment, was too painful. There were moments when I felt unseen, both as a scholar and as a human being simply trying to survive and sustain important work.
When an initiative is created after years of livelihood struggles, with clear goals, outputs, and full transparency, it deserves some support from your peers and personal networks.
A like. A comment. A share. Some words of encouragement. That shouldn’t be too much to ask for. Out of hundreds of people in my network, only two shared the campaign — one being my father — which then led to three other donations that helped in the first conference.
That silence is hard to swallow. To me, what it revealed was a culture that often misunderstands or even stigmatizes those who reach out for support, rather than recognizing their resourcefulness, courage, and persistence. It was disheartening to see that same invisibility I had presented about — the invisibility of women in South Asia — mirrored in my own experience navigating Western academic and social spaces.
This, too, is part of the ethnography of belonging: how voices are amplified or ignored, how need is interpreted, and how empathy can vanish in cultures that breed competition over camaraderie, collaboration, and support.
Lessons and Vision Ahead
Still, there are valuable lessons from the experience — not bitterness, but understanding and reflection. One thing I learned is that sharing the campaign can do wonders. I encouraged sharing because there are people out there willing to support these types of initiatives, especially when they see the effort put into them.
When my father shared it in his network, the campaign reached generous people in the community where I grew up — individuals who believed in me, in the mission, even if they didn’t know all the details. It reminded me that belief and kindness often come from unexpected places. This is where we practice gratitude.
More broadly, I learned that there is no control over outcomes — only over our efforts. We cannot dictate who engages or who looks away. What we can do is keep acting with integrity, transparency, and courage.
Crowdfunding is a legitimate model of funding academic pursuits, and I will continue to share more observations and lessons from my experience in future essays — both here and on Medium. These efforts are part of a larger reflection on creating, sustaining, and valuing knowledge outside of conventional institutional support.
Previous papers had been accepted to some conferences in the past few years, including APSA. But I could not attend because I did not have the funding. I tried to get creative, using this as a small bridge or a buffer while I continue exploring more formal opportunities. I think about how many scholars miss out on opportunities because they don’t have the funding. I did not hide under a desk and I refused to accept any stigma. I tried and showed up anyway.
In time, I hope to revive this campaign or even establish a small fund to support emerging or independent scholars who face similar barriers. When I am in a better position, I will pay that support forward. Because no one should have to choose between survival and scholarship.
I also want to remind others — especially those in academic spaces — to pause and ask how they can support their peers in these types of situations. Sometimes, a small gesture of empathy or solidarity can make a huge difference.
The primary lesson for me is this: we can’t always control the impact of what we put into the world, but we can control the integrity of how we show up.
The Next Steps
As I noted earlier, the feedback I received at APSA was both affirming and constructive — reminding me that this work continues to grow through conversations in these spaces. I’ve been steadily revising my papers and preparing them for the next stages of publication and presentation.
I’m delighted to share that my APSA and PolNet paper, “Empowering Communities: The Rural Support Program Network as a Model for Indigenous Development in Pakistan,” has been invited for peer review for the upcoming Development in Practice special issue, Interrogating Development: Identity, Power, and Resistance in the Global South. The full manuscript is currently in preparation, with submission planned for December 2025, and I look forward to sharing updates in the months ahead!
Additionally, I am excited that my next major presentation will be at the first-ever Social Capital 2026 Conference in March, hosted by the Institute for Social Capital at Heriot-Watt University in Dubai. I will be presenting a new paper titled “You Are the Bridging Link, Goodbye: Weak Ties, Structural Holes, and the Fragility of Networked Governance After USAID.” I am preparing a brief policy-oriented blog piece and look forward to publishing that before the conference.
As I continue this work, I’ll also be sharing more updates soon about the next chapter — including potential upcoming fieldwork alongside this major international conference abroad, both of which connect directly to my ongoing research and book projects. I may plan to keep the GoFundMe page active as part of my long-term vision for community-powered research — keeping the door open to continued community support, as I continue the search for my next opportunity, even if it wasn’t fully there in earlier rounds.
I still believe in the possibility of collective care and faith-based generosity, rewarding hard work, efforts, and resilience, especially when there is limited institutional support. And I hope to update that page in the coming weeks to reflect this next phase of work.
Each step forward — from revision to reflection, from presentation to publication — demonstrates progress that doesn’t always look linear. Progress cannot be linear for many scholars, especially those who face structural barriers. Sometimes, it looks like persistence: the decision to keep showing up, refining, and trusting the process.
Field Note from the Flight to Vancouver
******* As I prepared to take off for Vancouver, I reread the APSA 2024 theme:
“Reimagining Politics, Power, and Peoplehood in Crisis Times.”
When you reimagine peoplehood, it means the old ways aren’t working anymore — that systems must change, and that we must begin listening to those who have been silenced or made invisible.
It must continue by listening to the revolutionaries: James Baldwin, Dr. King, W. E. B. Du Bois, Audre Lorde, Angela Davis, Malcolm X, Frantz Fanon, bell hooks, Paulo Freire, Gandhi, Mandela, Edward Said, Mohammed El-Kurd, Francesca Albanese, Greta Thunberg — they remind us that imagination is itself an act of resistance.
One reason I had to submit my abstracts to APSA this year was that the theme statement invoked Du Bois — it was my “you had me at hello” moment.
In truth, this journey began long before boarding that flight. I seem to keep following in my father’s footsteps — Dr. Akhtar Khwaja, soil scientist — across borders: from Sindh, Pakistan, to the Republic of Georgia, to Montréal (APSA 2022), and now Vancouver, a city he often visited for agricultural consulting. This unfolding story of legacy and faith continues to guide me.
The last time I was on a plane before APSA was earlier this year, for the most transformative experience of my life — the Pilgrimage with my family in Makkah, Saudi Arabia. That special journey continues to inform how I understand visibility, humility, and purpose.
I only learned later that all my brothers and sisters helped me get there — and this time, they helped me get on this plane too. May God reward them for believing in me.
I hoped that the flight would take me toward opportunity, if it was meant to be. We never truly know unless we take the leap.
And one day, I pray that I will be able to help another underdog, dreamer, and revolutionary reach their own destination — someone reimagining people, power, and personhood in a world still learning to listen.
InshaAllah. Fi Amanillah. Allahu Akbar.
Wearing my purple American Foundation for Suicide Prevention T-shirt that day, I was thinking about how survival is its own form of resistance — and showing up, again and again, is how we honor both faith and life. *******
Gratitude to my Supporters and to the Qi Community
It has taken me several weeks to return to these reflections. The experience was significant, but it left me face-to-face with the feeling of being unseen. We must understand the trauma behind invisibility, for ourselves and for our peers. I feel there is too much trauma as a woman of color, a person navigating multiple layers of marginal identities, as an add-on to this experience at this time of my life. And that trauma itself is not understood or acknowledged.
To pour one’s heart into a community-funded academic journey as an independent postdoctoral scholar, only to meet silence, can become an auto-ethnography. It teaches more about networks, belonging, and the politics of visibility than any conference panel ever could.
Still, I want to pause here to thank everyone who believed in me (especially my family members who came together at the last minute to make Canada happen for me), those who shared, contributed, or simply wished me well on the way to APSA, and my ongoing/never-ending academic journey.
It was a special, unforgettable experience, and your support, in any form, mattered more than you know.
And to all of you here — the readers, subscribers, and companions of this Qualitative Inquisition community — thank you so much for your company.
You remind me that there are people who value authenticity, reflection, and the craft of qualitative inquiry and academic storytelling.
I hope we can continue building this space on Substack together: a space of curiosity, compassion, truth-telling, and courage.
I’ll keep showing up, fueled by faith, resilience, and the conviction that our stories matter.
As I close this lengthy edition, I also want to remind us all to keep being there for one another — to support independent writers, artists, educators, academics, consultants, and journalists.
Please support them for who they are, not just for what they can offer you. Because sometimes, that small act of solidarity can be the difference between silence and their livelihood and survival.
“You write in order to change the world... if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way people look at reality, then you can change it.”
— James Baldwin
In Solidarity and Peace,
Dr. Elsa
Top News Roundup
Ms. Rachel lauded as Glamour Woman of the Year : Middle East Eye
Western media still privileges Israeli over Palestinian lives: Middle East Eye
The Gaza Ceasefire Explained: Islamic Relief
War in Sudan: Humanitarian, October 2025: Al Jazeera
Afghanistan and Pakistan Border Clashes: Al Jazeera
Updates on Zohran Mamdani - leading to become the first Muslim Mayor of New York City
The Struggle for the Future of the New York Democratic Party: The Intercept
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Book Recommendation
Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, by Audre Lorde
Audre Lorde’s words remind us that speaking truth — especially from the margins — is an act of transformation, courage, and survival. This collection resonates deeply with the research I have explored this year, and the mission of The Qualitative Inquisition, inviting us to claim our voices, confront silence, and turn vulnerability, pain, and visibility into power.
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Thank you for reading and engaging!
Visit my page for my ongoing educational crowdsourcing campaign, Rise Beyond Margins, HERE. An update has been posted there, and the story will be updated with the next steps soon!
Visit my Painting Heals Initiative connected to Rise Beyond Margins here:
https://paintingheals.elsatkhwaja.com/
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My latest MEDIUM piece:
“Unfinished Business:” On Creating When the World Doesn’t See You - Here I share the pain of invisibility, the courage to show up without a safety net, and the rebellion of creating in a world that looks away.
If you find value in my writing and want to support independent scholars, writers, and artists, HERE is another way!
Your support helps me continue writing, reflecting, painting, and resisting! Thank you, I wish you well on your academic, writing, and artistic journey!
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Quote of the Month
“When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.”
- Audre Lorde