Surgeon by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab 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 father said, 'Great, now you'll take off the scarf.' She meant well.
Islamabad was a culture shock. Not because of the weather — because of the staring. At the conference, I was often the only hijabi 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 hijab, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' 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 16-hour day, 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 chief surgeon now. I teach the next generation. I still pray five times a day. The same father who told me to take off the scarf now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a trainee in a kufi 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.'