Professor by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in politics. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into housed 200 families, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll hide your faith.' He meant well.
Baghdad was a culture shock. Not because of the pace of life — because of the staring. At the university, I was often the only hijabi in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was able to attend the Christmas party.
The real test came during client pitches. A programme director looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'Will your... religious requirements... affect your availability?' 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 16-hour day, 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 run a department. I still keep my beard. The same grandmother who told me to hide your faith now introduces me as 'my nephew, the professor.'
Last year, a trainee in a kufi stopped me in the hospital corridor. 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.'