The internet has been good for Maria Qamar, the Toronto-based artist known as @hatecopy , giving her not just a platform for art she once did in secret, but also a community of over 176,000 fans, many of whom seek out her sharp commentary on Desi culture. But while her bold pop art has lived a strong life online, Qamar sees value in taking that art into the real world—hence her show, Fraaaandship!, which opened at New York City's Richard Taittinger Gallery earlier this month and will remain on view until September 2.

Qamar: I've had young mothers walk in with their kids; I've had kids walk in and then bring their grandma or their aunts and uncles. Pop art is very fun in nature, but [my work] does talk about a lot of heavy things, so it's also people who have topics they want to discuss but don't really know how. It's across generations.

By starting conversations, Qamar hopes her art can spark change and push people in her Desi community to question what might be written off as tradition. We caught up with Qamar to talk about her work, why she makes it, and how changing communities must first start at home.

Making people feel seen is the point. Fraaaandship! is art meant for the Desi diaspora made by one of its own; Qamar moved to Canada from Pakistan at the age of nine. The goal of the show, Qamar explained, is to make space for "Desis of all generations and immigrants of all generations" to feel both safe and centered. "My work is a little bit here we are, and a little bit unapologetic in that sense," Qamar told VICE. "That's exactly what's going on: you're being spoken to. I'm talking to you."

Fans might be used to double-tapping Qamar's colorful designs on screens, but in real life, everything is bigger and bolder. For her first solo show in the city, Qamar has juxtaposed her incisive paintings with irreverent inflatables, like a 10-foot-tall inflatable lota (an "ass-washing device," according to Qamar) and giant, helium-filled bags of Maggi noodles. The paintings, meanwhile, focus on female bonding in an age of "fraaandship," a phrase that refers to shady sexual advances from men online.

My favorite crowd is the university crowd that does papers and comes to the gallery to have conversations on gender theory and how our tradition has these parts of it that are patriarchal in nature, but they're passed off as that's just how things have always been. I never got to have those conversations when I was younger so I kind of bottled it up, which resulted in this.

Do you get the sense that people are taking those conversations into their real lives?

Yeah, and my goal is to have these conversations within your home as well, because that's where it starts. I grew up constantly fighting with my family over things that my brother was allowed to do but I wasn't, or that I was pressured to do but my brother wasn't. It's important to change [mindsets] within the family first, and then they'll pass it on to their friends and families and make that change possible.

Do you find art is a good way into difficult subjects, from your experience?

I feel like art is a way to—for me—to now shut everybody up. I try to reflect what I've heard and show how ridiculous you look when you say things like, "cover yourself up" or "think about marriage," when you're only 12. Having those conversations is important because you have to realize what's bullshit and what's tradition.

How do you decide what types of commentary go into your work?

I like to think that everybody is growing with me. It really just depends on what I feel like talking about. I'm hoping that I'm able to do what I do for a longer period of time—this is the tip of the iceberg in terms of what we can talk about as a society.

How would you say the internet has influenced the way you approach your art?