As a young adult, she was the first woman in her neighborhood to ride a bicycle. Today, you’d be praised for choosing such an eco-friendly mode of transport, but back then it was scandalous for a woman to travel by bike without a male escort. Many people scolded her for it, calling her a prostitute (this seemed to be a theme in her early years).

She wanted a life beyond the limitations she felt in Pakistan, so she came to Britain in the 1990s with my sister and me tucked under her arms — and no money, no husband, no connections. It was four years before my dad could follow. In the meantime, my mom did every “real job” possible, from cleaning to sewing in a factory. She got an English degree and eventually found a job teaching English to other immigrants.

But she was always a performer. When I was a kid, she would organize plays at our town hall — she rented it by the hour to write, direct and produce the shows. The cast consisted of her children and the Lithuanian students she roped into learning lines as part of their English lessons. The plot of her first play, “Husband for Sale,” was about a business-minded wife (played by her) who tries to sell off her husband (played by my dad) to a rich elderly lady. I’m sure it was more therapeutic for her than anything.

When I was 8 years old, my mom received a letter of deportation, informing her that we’d have to leave the country. She had one main focus — to get her children educated before we had to go. I studied around the clock, signing up for every scholarship exam possible.

While I was doing that, my mom was engaged in a year of protests and legal battles. Every weekend I had to help her distribute fliers door-to-door, to gather petition signatures in support of immigrants’ rights. She managed to build a support network not only for herself but also for other immigrants and began to organize weekly meetings in the basement of a South Asian supermarket. She gave a speech at a conference and caught the attention of a lawyer who offered to represent her at no cost.

After all her community work and court proceedings, we gained “indefinite leave to remain.” By the time the Spice Girls released their third album, we were bona fide citizens of Britain.

A few years later, I stumbled across YouTube and spent all my spare time learning how to use a secondhand camcorder. Life suddenly became a lot more exciting when I could make a video of me titled “Twerking in Public” and share it with the world.