Investment Banker by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in academia. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into built something beautiful from nothing, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll hide your faith.' She meant well.
Mombasa was a culture shock. Not because of the weather — because of the staring. At the office, I was often the only hijabi in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was allowed to touch male patients.
The real test came during partnership review. A department head looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'Will your... religious requirements... affect your availability?' 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 woman who'd been told she had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a professor now. I lead a team of 20. I still pray in my office at Dhuhr. The same grandmother 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.'