Nadine Jolie Courtney is the author of the novel "All-American Muslim Girl." Her writing has appeared in Angeleno, O: The Oprah Magazine, Architectural Digest, Town & Country and elsewhere. The views expressed here are hers. Read more opinion on CNN.

(CNN) On January 27th, 2017, after President Donald Trump issued an executive order banning entry to the US by citizens of seven Muslim-majority countries (and indefinitely halting refugees from Syria), thousands of protesters stormed John F. Kennedy airport in New York City, and other airports around the country, proclaiming their solidarity with Muslims. Countless more, I among them, watched on television as the events unfolded.

Nadine Jolie Courtney

It was a watershed moment for American Muslims like me, who had grown up believing that people would judge us for our religion. The sky was blue, water was wet, and other Americans looked down on Islam. These were facts we internalized. It's why for most of my life, I've lived as a white-passing, mixed-raced Muslim: green eyes, blonde hair, fair skin. Despite my father's Middle Eastern and Asian ancestry, I look a lot like my white, Catholic-born mother: the basic girl-next-door.

But for me, the day Trump instituted the travel ban and Americans from all walks of life fought back against it was doubly profound: it's the day I stopped hiding. It's the day I re-opened the word document on my computer and started writing the personal story I'd been too afraid to explore for 10 years. It's the day I officially began writing my novel "All-American Muslim Girl" -- about Islamophobia, white privilege, identity and erasure.

Because of my appearance, the Islamophobia I've experienced over the years is very different from that of my Muslim cousins, aunts and friends. People don't stare at me at the grocery store or make comments about my appearance or lack of hijab while I'm working out. I don't get told in parking lots to "go back where I came from." I've never had somebody yell "Allahu akbar!" at me in the hallway at school. All of these things have happened to people I love. Unlike them, I almost never feel in danger because of my religion.

Instead, I'm subject to microaggressions: people's jaws dropping when they find out I'm Muslim. Incredulous comments like, "You? But you look so American!" -- as if Muslims can't be Americans, too. People staring at me quizzically, asking of my heritage, "So, like...what are you?" And, of course, the endless questions about whether I pray, whether I drink, whether I eat bacon, whether I support various international policies -- as if they're trying to figure out whether they can trust me.

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