Scientist 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 fed the neighbourhood for three years, my uncle said, 'Great, now you'll take off the scarf.' He meant well.
Lahore was a culture shock. Not because of the cold — because of the staring. At the office, I was often the only hijabi 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 department head 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, 'I've never had a client complain about my competence..'
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 department head now. I teach the next generation. I still wear hijab. The same uncle who told me to take off the scarf now introduces me as 'my niece, the doctor.'
Last year, a young Muslim intern stopped me in the campus quad. 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.'