Khadija

“You can do it, InshAllah!” I repeated this affirmation whenever I wanted to achieve a goal. If I worked hard and was optimistic, everything would work out. I always tried so hard to fit in because I never felt like I belonged. Being bullied, harassed, and ridiculed for being Muslim was difficult enough, but I thought I just needed to be patient and keep going.

The majority of Muslims have been bullied in school, and it is unfortunate how racism is so prevalent in academia. I was the only visible minority in most of my elementary school classes, and after 9/11, the bullying got worse. They called me a pig, for obvious reasons, and made fun of how I wore long sleeves and pants in the summer.

In high school, I wanted to learn about engineering and was the only girl in my class for the last two years. A guy in my class got upset that I got the highest mark on a difficult test. I studied for multiple days, but he came by my desk to yell multiple profanities at me, and then accused me of having an illicit relationship with our male teacher in front of the entire class. Why? Apparently, there is no way a girl can get a higher grade than a guy in a tech class unless she is flirting with the teacher.  Sometimes I would work on my tech projects in other classes, and a teacher asked if I was building a bomb. I pushed my feeling aside things and moved on.

In university, I learned more about Islam and started to wear the hijab. I worked part-time on campus and noticed people were more hesitant around me. I am naturally friendly, but I had to be extra friendly to develop connections and trust with my colleagues and classmates. One time at work, a patron repeatedly refused to go to my desk for assistance. She chose to wait until a white colleague finished speaking to another patron, instead of going to a free desk where I was working. As a volunteer in a community hospital, I was asked if I “was one of those refugees.” As if I clearly didn’t belong in a place or a country that should be welcome for all.  But again, I chose to move on.

In my final year, I studied multiple science courses and was accepted for an interview for a competitive health professional graduate program. Although the interviewers on the panel were from diverse backgrounds, the main questions they asked were if my parents were okay with my choice of career and if they approved of the career responsibilities from a religious perspective. I was waitlisted that year. I studied, got extensive experience in my field, re-applied and thankfully was accepted the following year. After speaking with my classmates, I found out that religious and parental approval were not questions asked of anyone else. My extra experience apparently wasn’t the deciding factor, as many of my colleagues lied about their experiences in their applications. I was just grateful to be a part of my dream program, but this was not right.

At my main placement, I was optimistic and accepted feedback in a constructive manner. I was told I was hesitant and not confident enough. I studied the material, but my intense focus and quieter demeanour during meetings were interpreted as a lack of interest and initiative. This affected my academic evaluations and my performance. During lunch at our main hospital, some supervisors would make derogatory comments about other hijabi women. It was infuriating, but as the only Muslim and visibly religious person in the room, I regret to say I remained silent. 

Then the COVID pandemic hit, and all students in clinical placements were sent home. We were given the option to have our final oral exams virtually or when we returned to placement, and I chose to have my exam virtually. My supervisors had agreed that I would have to wait until the end of the term, which was unknown at this point, to have my exam. The reason given was that due to the placement schedule, my partner and I needed to complete more practical competencies in a placement to be fairly assessed on verbal content. They refused to schedule my oral exam, but allowed my partner to schedule hers, no questions asked. This time… I did NOT move on.

I asked why I was refused the opportunity for an evaluation in the same time frame as the remaining students and my partner, and I requested fair and equal treatment. My virtual oral exam was booked immediately after. Even without the practical experience, and after studying extensively, it was my best oral exam to date. I always gave those around me the benefit of the doubt, and unfortunately, let their actions continue far too long without any consequences. Until I spoke up for myself against the unfair treatment by my department, I didn’t realize the power of my voice. My confidence and work were not questioned again, and after returning to placements, I completed the practical competencies to the best of my abilities. I graduated with multiple job offers, including the main hospital I trained at.

As women, and especially as Muslims, it is admirable that we have the patience to be kind, forgive, and move on. I repeatedly silenced myself thinking that it was not worth the fight and that it was better to keep my head down and just be persistent.  But there will be moments when you realize that it is a disservice to yourself to stay quiet. There might be someone reading this story who is facing bullying, discrimination, and unfair treatment for being themselves. I hope that sharing my story will encourage them to be proud of who they are and to believe in the strength of their voice to advocate for who they will become.