As a Muslim in New Zealand I’ve long yearned for a TV show that reflected my life. So now we’re making one

‘Like so many of our immigrant peers, Ahmed I grew up with a thirst for rich stories.’ Photograph: Penguin

To say I have an obsessive relationship with television would be to undersell the truth. As far back as I can remember, I was glued to a screen. As a child I would race home from school to catch the latest episode of Power Rangers or Dragon Ball Z, mimicking the moves and exaggerated American accents to regurgitate with my friends the next day. At night I would sneak out of bed to steal some alone time with Who’s Line Is It Anyway?, gripping my hands over my mouth to stop myself cackling loudly enough to awaken my parents.

Television was a portal, and I imagined myself as every one of these characters living big lives. I wanted to be Goku and the Blue Power Ranger. I wanted to be as funny as Ryan Stiles and Wayne Brady. Soon it was The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and my friends and I practising our best “pshhh” handshakes. It didn’t matter that none of these characters were Muslim or Arab. To me they were all moulds I could squeeze myself into, superhero suits I could pull on to feel powerful in. On TV I saw all the things I could become.