Surgeon by Day, Muslim by Design
They said wearing my faith openly would hold me back in law. I wore it anyway. They took me seriously regardless.
When I got into fed the neighbourhood for three years, my grandmother said, 'Great, now you'll blend in.' She meant well.
Urumqi was a culture shock. Not because of the pace of life — 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 residency interviews. A managing director looked at my CV, looked at my my faith openly, and asked, 'Don't you think clients might be... uncomfortable?' 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 woman who'd been told she had to choose between faith and ambition. I refused to be evidence for that lie.
I'm a senior partner now. I lead a team of 20. I still pray five times a day. The same grandmother who told me to blend in now introduces me as 'my son, the lawyer.'
Last year, a young Muslim intern 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.'