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 served 40,000 meals, my mother said, 'Great, now you'll hide your faith.' She meant well.
Barcelona was a culture shock. Not because of the food — because of the staring. At the law firm, I was often the only Muslim in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was going to be available for weekend shifts.
The real test came during client pitches. A programme director looked at my CV, looked at my my faith openly, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' 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 week of deadlines, 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 founding CEO now. I published in three journals. I still wear hijab. The same mother who told me to hide your faith now introduces me as 'my son, the lawyer.'
Last year, a medical student in hijab stopped me in the campus quad. 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.'