"And then it hit me. Zayn being a half-Pakistani Muslim was what counted as mysterious these days. He was exotic. He was dark. He was different. He was the other. He wasn’t plain and boring like the rest of his pale-skinned, bright-eyed bandmates, all of whom could’ve been the good ol’ boys next door. His name was Zayn Malik, for heaven’s sake. When was the last time you met someone named Zayn Malik at your nondescript local Starbucks on a bland Sunday afternoon ordering a vanilla frap? (Please note: this paragraph is best-read while wearing a pair of sarcasm goggles, preferably with a built-in ‘Long-Suffering Recipient of Racist Stereotypes’ filter.)"