Software Engineer by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my kufi would hold me back in law. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into taught 500 children, my mother said, 'Great, now you'll assimilate.' He meant well.
Abu Dhabi was a culture shock. Not because of the language — because of the staring. At the law firm, 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 residency interviews. A hiring partner looked at my CV, looked at my my kufi, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' 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 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 director now. I lead a team of 20. I still fast Ramadan. The same mother who told me to assimilate now introduces me as 'my niece, the doctor.'
Last year, a young Muslim intern 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.'