Woman, of Color AND a Hijab
Don’t make us “prove ourselves” more than we need to.
I used to be an excellent interviewee. All I had to do was get my CV noticed, preferably by dropping it off myself (when that was still the thing to do) and I can sense that I was already in the door. I took it for granted for years. I never, ever doubted that I would have the job I was applying for if I was called for an interview. The aura that came with this super exceeding confidence was just unparallel and a self-fulfilling prophecy that worked in my favor. Every. Single. Time.
Until, one day, I wore the hijab (religious Islamic head covering-also known as veil or scarf). My life, and certainly my career prospects changed the very next day.
I wore the hijab out of a growing devotion to my religion. I had started taking classes and reading about the religion I was born into and had taken for granted so far — never considering it a true spiritual practice. I won’t get into the details of my newly found love here because frankly, it does not matter. The important thing is that day, at the prime age of 25, I decided to put it on my head, and finally express my devotion to my newfound love — Islam.
It was a Monday morning. My brother and mother caught me by surprise at the door. My mom, a hard-working immigrant woman who wears the hijab simply said: “Are you sure you want to do this? You just started a great job in your field.” My brother on the other hand, who was not practicing at the time, just looked at me and said: “Wow. Good for you.” I can see the admiration in his eyes and the fear in my mother’s. Two different worlds. One who knew what I was getting myself into and one who lived life as a man.
I was still finishing up my undergraduate degree and I had already gotten a job as an internal junior consultant for a big aviation company in Montreal. It was one of those dream jobs you get a few years (at least) after graduating from the Master’s I was applying to that year. My mentor was an amazing Jewish woman. She was first my professor at Concordia, then she brought me on to work with her at this company. Living the dream but well deserved, I might add. I had taken six years to finish my 3-year program. Yes, six, because I was working full-time and volunteering in my field. I was determined to get into the Master’s program of my dreams and get to work. I wanted a family too but that was another story.
All this to say, my life was on the right track and even way ahead of schedule if I look back now. That Monday morning in February was the beginning of what felt like the end of it. For a lonnng while until now.
My knees were shaking when I got out of the car that day and walked through the parking lot to my building. I almost wanted to disappear when I saw the glaring looks. Then lunch came and people split into two camps. Those who ask out of curiosity and those who don’t. “Did someone die?” (yes, this was an actual question. Not kidding.) “Is this forever?” “Are you married now?” And the rest was just a blur. That was not the problem. The problem was those who just stared (more like glared) and/or pretended as if nothing happened.
And then it happened. I was summoned to my boss’s office as soon as she got news of THE news. She was visibly nervous and upset but she was desperately trying to hide it. It was intense to watch. I was terrified. Lots of words were said but the only thing that stuck in my head for all those years is the following: “You are a woman. AND a woman of color. Now you put this on your head and you expect what? You are putting yet another barrier to your career.”
I never forgot that statement and what she meant was clear. Then it started. I lost several of my internal contracts that same week. People didn’t want me facilitating anything anymore. They didn’t want me seen. I retreated to my cubicle and kept to myself. Eventually, I quit not long after. They weren’t surprised.
Her prediction manifested itself in many other ways throughout the years. She was right. I did put an extra barrier. Ironically, that same year, just a few weeks earlier, in January 2009, President Obama was sworn in. I actually thought the world was changing and I shouldn’t be ashamed or scared of who I am anymore.
Then, the snowball that crushed my confidence went on and on for years afterward, until now. I recently had an interview to help with an EDI initiative. Equity Diversity and Inclusion. The big thing now. A white woman interviewed me for a very small contract. She didn’t take me because I really flopped in the interview. Zero confidence. Couldn’t “sell” myself and talk about my many accomplishments. It was a train wreck. That’s what’s been happening for the last decade. Don’t get me wrong, I do get a lot of work because I am very good at what I do but it’s only through referrals or someone bringing me on their project. I am forever grateful for the people who believe in me and my abilities, regardless of what I look like. People who, given their position of privilege, make sure that they support those who aren’t so lucky.
I was compelled to write this story not for pity but for awareness and in the hope that you, hopefully in a position of privilege and power, can help support visible minorities and underrepresented groups. This is the way forward. Be a true ally. Don’t make us “prove ourselves” more than we need to. We have been burnt too many times before. They always took the white man or woman to the jobs I applied for. And I’m always in the last three standing candidates. Go figure.
