Investment Banker by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in medicine. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into fed the neighbourhood for three years, my uncle said, 'Great, now you'll hide your faith.' He meant well.
Singapore was a culture shock. Not because of the pace of life — because of the staring. At the hospital, I was often the only Muslim in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was allowed to touch male patients.
The real test came during the promotion board. A hiring partner looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'How will you handle situations that conflict with your beliefs?' I smiled and said, 'My religious requirements are between me and God. My availability is 100%..'
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 man who'd been told he had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a professor now. I built a company from scratch. I still wear hijab. The same uncle who told me to hide your faith now introduces me as 'my nephew, the professor.'
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.'