Scientist by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my kufi would hold me back in finance. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into built something beautiful from nothing, my uncle said, 'Great, now you'll assimilate.' She meant well.
Bogotá was a culture shock. Not because of the pace of life — because of the staring. At the conference, 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 residency interviews. A department head looked at my CV, looked at my my kufi, and asked, 'Are you sure this is the right fit for someone with your... background?' 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 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 run a department. I still pray five times a day. The same uncle who told me to assimilate now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a young Muslim intern stopped me in the conference hallway. 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.'