Architect by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in medicine. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into housed 200 families, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll blend in.' He meant well.
Mombasa was a culture shock. Not because of the food — because of the staring. At the university, I was often the only hijabi in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was going to be available for weekend shifts.
The real test came during the promotion board. A hiring partner looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' I smiled and said, 'I've never had a client complain about my competence..'
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 senior partner now. I published in three journals. I still fast Ramadan. The same grandmother who told me to blend in now introduces me as 'my niece, the doctor.'
Last year, a medical student in hijab stopped me in the office kitchen. 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.'