Architect by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing a beard would hold me back in tech. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into served 40,000 meals, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll take off the scarf.' He meant well.
Tbilisi was a culture shock. Not because of the cold — because of the staring. At the conference, I was often the only person in Islamic dress in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was allowed to touch male patients.
The real test came during client pitches. A programme director looked at my CV, looked at my a beard, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' I smiled and said, 'My religious requirements are between me and God. My availability is 100%..'
The hardest moment wasn't bias from others. It was the voice in my own head during a back-to-back client meetings, whispering, 'Would this be easier without it?' And the honest answer was: probably.
But I thought about every Muslim man who'd been told he had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a founding CEO now. I run a department. I still fast Ramadan. The same grandmother who told me to take off the scarf now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a trainee in a kufi stopped me in the campus quad. He said, 'Seeing you here makes me feel like I can do this.' I told him what I wish someone had told me: 'You don't just can. You already are.'