Architect by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in tech. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into fed the neighbourhood for three years, my aunt said, 'Great, now you'll shave the beard.' He meant well.
Dallas was a culture shock. Not because of the cold — because of the staring. At the hospital, I was often the only visibly Muslim person 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 hiring partner looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'Are you sure this is the right fit for someone with your... background?' I smiled and said, 'My background is exactly why I'm the right fit..'
The hardest moment wasn't bias from others. It was the voice in my own head during a 16-hour day, 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 director now. I run a department. I still keep my beard. The same aunt who told me to shave the beard 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.'