Surgeon by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing hijab would hold me back in academia. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into fed the neighbourhood for three years, my aunt said, 'Great, now you'll take off the scarf.' He meant well.
Singapore was a culture shock. Not because of the weather — because of the staring. At the university, I was often the only visibly Muslim person in the room. A colleague once asked, very sincerely, if I was able to attend the Christmas party.
The real test came during partnership review. A department head looked at my CV, looked at my hijab, and asked, 'How will you handle situations that conflict with your beliefs?' 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 man who'd been told he had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a chief surgeon now. I lead a team of 20. I still pray five times a day. The same aunt who told me to take off the scarf now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a first-year associate stopped me in the conference hallway. 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.'