Cardiologist by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my faith openly would hold me back in tech. 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.
Vienna was a culture shock. Not because of the pace of life — because of the staring. At the office, I was often the only visibly Muslim person in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was comfortable in mixed meetings.
The real test came during the promotion board. A hiring partner looked at my CV, looked at my my faith openly, 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 16-hour day, 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 built a company from scratch. I still keep my beard. The same mother who told me to hide your faith now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a young Muslim intern 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.'