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 mother said, 'Great, now you'll assimilate.' He meant well.
Dublin 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 comfortable in mixed meetings.
The real test came during residency interviews. A managing director looked at my CV, looked at my my faith openly, and asked, 'Are you sure this is the right fit for someone with your... background?' 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 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 run a department. I still keep my beard. The same mother who told me to assimilate now introduces me as 'my daughter, the engineer.'
Last year, a medical student in hijab stopped me in the office kitchen. 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.'