I step up to the desk, feeling shaky and light-headed. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. We’re about to walk into a legit private meeting with an elected official’s legislative director. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the small sign propped up on the desk, featuring an illustrated graphic of a cell phone in a no-smoking sign. Thank you for respecting our no-recording policy.
“Well, I’m Kristin, and it’s so nice to meet y’all. Are you—”
“Here for a meeting,” I say quickly, jolting back to earth. “Jamie Goldberg and Maya Rehman, meeting with Ms. Dickers at ten thirty.”
“Yup! Got you down right here,” Kristin says. “Ms. Dickers is just wrapping up a meeting. Can I get y’all any snacks? Anything to drink?”
“No, thank you,” I say. Maya just shakes her head and walks straight to the back of the room, perching stiffly on the edge of one of the chairs.
“You okay?” I settle into the chair beside her.
“Fine.” She exhales. “She’s nice.” Maya juts her chin at Kristin, who’s now laughing sweetly into the receiver of her office phone. But the look on Maya’s face tells me she’s thinking the exact same thing I am: If Kristin were truly nice, how could she justify working for someone like Holden?
Every moment that passes in this waiting room makes Maya more jittery. “She’s ten minutes late,” Maya whispers. “Is that normal?”
“I think so?” I glance up at Kristin, who smiles warmly from behind the desk. “I guess the other meeting went over.”
It’s almost eleven by the time someone finally emerges from a door near Kristin’s desk. Another staffer, maybe? He’s a baby-faced white guy who looks like he walked straight off a yacht. He talks to Kristin for a moment, and Kristin gestures us over. “All right,” she says brightly. “Ms. Dickers is ready for you.”
The guy staffer doesn’t introduce himself, but he leads us down a short hallway, into a small, windowless meeting room furnished with a table and chairs. “She’ll be right with you,” he says, shutting us in.
“So now we wait again?” Maya groans.
I open my bag, pulling out the notecards. “Maybe we should look over our talking points?”
“You’re sure we’re allowed to bring notes?” Maya asks.
“I mean.” I glance down at the cards, suddenly not so sure at all. “I think so? It’s not like an exam.”
“It feels like an exam,” she mutters.
The door swings open, revealing a woman in a blazer and a patterned neck scarf, carrying a short stack of papers. Ms. Dickers seems around my mom’s age, maybe a little older, and she’s actually super polished, but in a weirdly dated way, like an old headshot. “Jennifer Dickers,” she says, smiling brightly. She shakes each of our hands before settling in across from us. “Y’all look so young, my goodness. How can I help you?”
Deep breath. “Thank you for meeting with us.” I sound so stiff and rehearsed. I’m already cringing. “I’m Jamie Goldberg, and this is Maya Rehman, and we’re here . . .” My voice starts to shake, but I swallow and start over. “We’re here to discuss—”
She glances down at her papers. “I see you have concerns about H.B. 28.”
“Yes.” Another deep breath. “Georgia H.B. 28, regarding the partial ban on face and head coverings.” I peek at my first notecard. “If it’s okay, I’m going to paraphrase Imam Jackson from the Brookhaven Community Mosque.”
I sense Maya straightening beside me.
Ms. Dickers looks amused. “You go right ahead.”
I try to breathe through the tightness in my chest—I swear, it feels like I just ran up three flights of stairs. “Imam Jackson said that given the language of this bill, we can see its intention is to limit the freedom of Muslim citizens in daily life.”
“Oh my.” Ms. Dickers clasps her hands. “Now that’s quite an assumption. H.B. 28 doesn’t mention anything about Muslims.”
I nod quickly. “But it’s implied. And the pronouns used—”
“I’m certainly not seeing how it’s implied. The purpose of H.B. 28 is actually to protect citizens as they participate in daily life.”
Maya jumps in. “How would this bill protect citizens?”
Ms. Dickers smiles. “Well, in fact, this law is based on an existing—”
“We know, the KKK unmasking law,” Maya says impatiently. “But why would you expand the restrictions to include driving? And why does the bill’s language use female pronouns?”
“Congressman Holden is a believer in revisiting legislation and making sure it maintains its relevance. At the time of the initial law, the KKK was a threat—”
“They still are!” Maya lets out a blunt, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me? The KKK literally endorsed Newton in the special election senate race.”
Ms. Dickers raises her eyebrows. “Well, I haven’t heard anything about that. And I’m certainly not sure what this has to do with H.B. 28. But you can rest assured, Congressman Holden is an expert on issues related to security, and constituent safety is his utmost priority. In times of crisis, I’m sure all innocent citizens understand the need for more transparency to protect our communities.”
“But what does that have to do with facial and head coverings?” I ask.
“Well,” Ms. Dickers says, “given recent advances in weapon technology, it’s entirely conceivable that a would-be attacker could carry an explosive on his or her person that’s small enough to fit beneath a standard bandanna or face mask.”
“But that’s not real,” I say. “That’s never happened.”
“And I pray to God it never will,” says Ms. Dickers.
“So you’re basing your policy on random far-fetched hypotheticals,” I blurt. I can feel Maya’s eyes landing on me in surprise.
“Our policy is based on the best interests of our constituents,” says Ms. Dickers.
“Not all your constituents,” Maya says. “Some of Holden’s constituents wear hijab! You know that, right?”
“Of course, and Congressman Holden is proud to represent people from all faiths.”
“If he supports banning hijab, he’s not representing my community!”
“Oh my.” Ms. Dickers’s mouth curves upward at the corners. “It’s sweet of you to be so concerned, but I’m not sure how this affects you, precisely.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I can’t help but notice you don’t wear hijab.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Maya grips the edge of the table. “You’re surprised I’m opposed to this? Because I don’t wear hijab? I don’t even—you realize whatever I wear or don’t wear is my business, but it still affects me—and my mom wears hijab and she—”
“Oh, I see. Well, you’ll be thrilled to know that this bill is for her safety as well. These guidelines let our neighbors know women like your mom have nothing to hide. Our research shows that greater transparency leads to fewer religiously motivated attacks.”