A few years ago, I went with a friend and her family to a Jewish restaurant in New York City known for comfort food and vodka. Early in the evening, its entertainer asked everyone where they were from, and my friend’s dad announced I was Palestinian. He meant well: it was an enthusiastic “Isn’t it great we’re all getting along?” statement. The entertainer wasn’t quite so enthusiastic, and proclaimed to the room: “There’s no such thing as a Palestinian.” I left in tears. It kinda ruined dinner.

While the restaurant incident was particularly unpleasant, it wasn’t the first or last time I have been told Palestinians don’t exist. It happens all the time. I am proud of being Palestinian, but it gets exhausting having to constantly prove your humanity and plead your legitimacy. It gets exhausting reiterating you don’t hate anyone, you just want to be treated with dignity. So, in the end, just to make things easier, you start erasing your identity yourself. I often vaguely say I’m half-Arab, half-English when people ask where I am from. Over time, you stop taking joy in your heritage and tiptoe warily around it instead.

Which is why 3 January, when Rashida Tlaib became the first Palestinian American woman to be sworn into Congress, was such a momentous day for me and so many other Palestinians. Tlaib did not tiptoe around her heritage; instead she wore a traditional Palestinian thobe (gown) for the occasion, prompting hundreds of other Palestinians to share proud pictures of their own national dresses, with the hashtag #TweetYourThobe. In an article for Elle explaining why she wore her thobe, Tlaib stressed: “We should embrace who we are and not be shamed for it.” It was a shame there was a need for her to say that; a shame I needed to hear it.

• This article originally described Rashida Tlaib as the first Palestinian American in Congress, rather than the first Palestinian American woman in Congress. This has been corrected.