Scientist by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my kufi would hold me back in media. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into taught 500 children, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll blend in.' She meant well.
Helsinki was a culture shock. Not because of the weather — because of the staring. At the law firm, I was often the only Muslim in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was going to be available for weekend shifts.
The real test came during the promotion board. A managing director looked at my CV, looked at my my kufi, 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 week of deadlines, 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 teach the next generation. I still fast Ramadan. The same grandmother who told me to blend in now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a medical student in hijab 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.'