Scientist by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my kufi would hold me back in politics. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into served 40,000 meals, my aunt said, 'Great, now you'll shave the beard.' She meant well.
Rotterdam was a culture shock. Not because of the food — because of the staring. At the law firm, I was often the only visibly Muslim person 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 tenure committee. A senior partner looked at my CV, looked at my my kufi, and asked, 'How will you handle situations that conflict with your beliefs?' 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 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 director now. I lead a team of 20. I still pray five times a day. The same aunt who told me to shave the beard now introduces me as 'my niece, the doctor.'
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.'