Professor by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing a beard would hold me back in media. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into served 40,000 meals, my mother said, 'Great, now you'll shave the beard.' He meant well.
Boston was a culture shock. Not because of the cold — because of the staring. At the university, I was often the only person in Islamic dress in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was allowed to touch male patients.
The real test came during client pitches. A managing director looked at my CV, looked at my a beard, and asked, 'How will you handle situations that conflict with your beliefs?' 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 back-to-back client meetings, 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 fast Ramadan. The same mother who told me to shave the beard now introduces me as 'my niece, the doctor.'
Last year, a trainee in a kufi stopped me in the conference hallway. 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.'