Barrister by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my faith openly would hold me back in politics. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into built something beautiful from nothing, my father said, 'Great, now you'll shave the beard.' She meant well.
Manila was a culture shock. Not because of the cold — because of the staring. At the office, I was often the only person in Islamic dress in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was able to attend the Christmas party.
The real test came during the promotion board. A senior partner looked at my CV, looked at my my faith openly, and asked, 'Are you sure this is the right fit for someone with your... background?' I smiled and said, 'The same way I handle everything — with excellence..'
The hardest moment wasn't bias from others. It was the voice in my own head during a 30-hour shift, whispering, 'Would this be easier without it?' And the honest answer was: probably.
But I thought about every Muslim woman who'd been told she had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a department head now. I teach the next generation. I still pray in my office at Dhuhr. The same father who told me to shave the beard now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a trainee in a kufi stopped me in the office kitchen. She said, 'Seeing you here makes me feel like I can do this.' I told her what I wish someone had told me: 'You don't just can. You already are.'