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IMANA Hosts Successful 50th Anniversary Gala

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by TMO Staff

 The Islamic Medical Association of North America (IMANA) celebrated its 50th Anniversary with a Gala dinner in Reston, Virginia on Saturday, October 14.

The turnout was fantastic and it was a splendid evening honoring IMANA’s milestones. 380 guests including government officials, representatives from several non-profit organizations, friends, and loved ones of IMANA’s community along with twenty-three former IMANA presidents gathered together to recognize IMANA’s contributions to the American society and its impact across the globe. The evening highlighted IMANA’s accomplishments driven by IMANA’s vision articulated a half a century ago.

Attendees enjoyed a keynote speech from Ambassador Shabazz, daughter of Malcolm X, and an address by Lonnie Ali, wife of the legendary Muhammad Ali. The IMANA lifetime achievement award was given to Muhammad Ali, posthumously for his work towards the clinical care and rehabilitation of patients with Parkinson’s disease at the Muhammad Ali Parkinson Center. After accepting the award, Lonnie Ali spoke about the dedication to service and passion for justice of Muhammad Ali and his exemplary life, that left a deep and wide impact around the world. All the IMANA former presidents, present at the event, were acknowledged with an award for their exceptional leadership and service.

Guests were delighted with an exquisite cuisine, including international desserts from countries all around the world in which IMANA has provided medical relief. The crowd enjoyed an evening of laughter with comedian Mo Amer. IMANA also released copies of its new book commemorating its 50-Year History Serving Faith, Profession and Community by American Muslim healthcare professionals. The book will be available to purchase online starting next week.

The IMANA 50th Anniversary Gala dinner was truly a night to remember and a gratifying celebration. The silent auction was well received with the outstanding artworks from Eye for Art, all but two pieces were purchased.

“We are proud to continue IMANA’s mission to strive towards a world in which the wellness and health care of all people are served by the American Muslim community,” the organization wrote on their website.

“This event would not have been possible without the generous support of every one of our volunteers and of course all our attendees,” they added.

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Recognizing the Challenge of being a Female Physician in the Medical Field

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by Hala Sabry al Nagar

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s a common question we ask our youth, and I remember as a young child sharing my aspirations with family members. When I answered “I want to be a doctor when I grow up,” I received positive feedback and praise. As an innocent little girl, I had no idea that there were people in the world who wouldn’t be as supportive of a woman in medicine.

Later in life, I questioned my decision to be a physician but was always rerouted back to medicine. I truly couldn’t think of a better way to serve my community. I completed all the necessary classes, training, and board exams and through it all, I felt that I could accomplish anything I put my mind to. This is what we teach our children – if you work hard, you can achieve anything you want.

Then I learned from the female physicians in my family that the experience of women in medicine was often fraught with unique challenges including gender discrimination. After 12 years of training, when I believed I had complete control over the direction of my career, I experienced the discrimination I had heard my family speak of.

I was passed over for a leadership position while pregnant. With all of the scientific progress in medicine, it was shocking to me how far behind the advancement of women in medicine was.

I am acutely aware that my experience entering medicine does not represent the barriers many women face even before becoming physicians. After all, I was simply following in the footsteps of the women before me. How many women doubted whether they could achieve what they wanted? How many could not find women role models who overcame the discrimination and barriers imposed by society? I remember feeling hopeless when I finally realized the “status quo” in medicine, that intangible opponent whom I instinctively wanted to ignore. A woman would have to choose between her career and her family if she wanted to succeed as a physician.

I celebrated the birth of my children and simultaneously mourned the death of my career because of the ultimatum medicine has traditionally demanded. It wasn’t until I reached out to others that I realized I wasn’t alone in my frustration. Men and women alike felt the same pressure and it wasn’t just about starting a family because even women without children were being held back.

When I think of the first female physician, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell who was accepted into medical school as a practical joke, I am grateful for how far we’ve come. But I know we still have a long way to go. The fact that women are entering the medical field in increasing numbers is a tribute to those pioneers before us who fought the bitter and aggressive discrimination of a culture that believed the woman’s place was in her home. It is not enough to appreciate how much has changed. We must continue to fight for equality and dedicate our struggle to the women behind us who are still young girls being asked what they want to be when they grow up.

This is what National Women Physicians Day 2017 means to me. This is a day for all physicians, women and men, to work towards building a workforce that represents the patients we care for. Academic research must focus on identifying not only the gaps in gender representation but also on creating solutions for our future generations. Our patients deserve to have physicians who are fulfilled in every aspect of their lives because that makes us better doctors.

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Betrothed to Medicine: Learning to Embrace My Profession

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by Rabia Toor

It’s been three weeks since I graduated from medical school. I’m officially an M.D.! But the 25 years leading up to me becoming the first physician in my family was a long and difficult road, to say the least.

I remember when I was in the second grade and had an assignment where I had to draw what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was obsessed with Britney Spears at the time so naturally, I drew a singer with a bedazzled microphone in her hand singing in front of a huge audience. My mother, who had recently emigrated from Pakistan a few years prior, saw the drawing and asked me, “What is this? Draw a doctor.” And so, at the tender age of seven, the journey to medical school began.

My mother and father emigrated from Pakistan to Canada with my sisters and me in 1998. They’re pretty typical in terms of first generation parents. My father was an engineer, who rightfully so, never let us forget his struggles of studying under a street lamp for his exams in his village, and my mother was a stay at home mom, dedicated to maintaining a happy family with full bellies.

As long as I can remember, my father used to tell us stories of their struggles of coming to a better country for the sake of their kids. He wanted to be a doctor back in Pakistan; he even received admission to a Military Medical School but failed the physical exam because his eyesight was too weak due to his diabetes. My mother, on the other hand, felt like she had to prove something to her family back home. She bore three girls compared to all her siblings and relatives who had at least one son. This did build some sort of insecurity within her because she wanted us to ‘do something with our lives’ and by ‘doing something’ I mean becoming a doctor, engineer or lawyer.

I always knew in the back of my mind that I would have to become a doctor. This profession, at least back in the day, meant financial stability and true intellect. So, not only were you the brightest person in the room, but also the wealthiest. And with these two factors being mixed in with cultural norms, meant pride, reputation, and status. I know, I know, it sounds pretty archaic. That’s because it is.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn’t want to pursue medicine as a career. I was an incredibly creative person; I knit and crochet, scrapbook, and bake! So my plan after graduating university was to take a culinary course in patisserie and open up the bakery of my dreams. But, whenever I plead my case to my parents, it would always be met with, “Sure, you can become a pastry chef. After you become a doctor.” There was simply no way I could change my betrothed profession. I reluctantly applied to medical school, but at the same time applied to culinary school in Ottawa. And a week before receiving my acceptance from medical school, I got my acceptance to the George Brown School of Culinary Arts. I didn’t tell my parents about my acceptance to chef school. And the next month, I was on a flight to the Caribbeans to start my first semester of medical school.

I hated it. I hated it so much because I felt so much pressure from my parents. I hated the fact that it was all for status, money, and pride. I struggled with major depression and anxiety because I became extremely unhappy with where my life was headed. I was drinking; I was smoking and deteriorating as a person. And my sisters took notice. They tried to tell my mother that I was struggling but all she had to say was, “Do what you have to do. But you can’t quit. You have to finish medical school.”

I was in complete shock. My mother was completely fine with me going against my religion, simply so I would have an M.D. degree. Every few phone calls; I would beg to quit medical school. But it was never an option.

It wasn’t until the end of my third year of medical school where I made a complete 180. I finally ended up having a breakthrough with my parents and got treated for my depression (despite the cultural taboo…but that’s a different story for another time). And shortly after, I began my psychiatry rotation. I saw individuals like me and I felt like I could give them something that I couldn’t before. I had been in their shoes. And I wanted to help. I finally had that feeling of wanting to be of service to others, that feeling I saw everyone around me having since my first semester of medical school classes. I FINALLY wasn’t pursuing medicine for my parents. I found my passion! I found my own niche and it opened up a whole new world for me.

I used to think that a lot of things, from my personality to all of my interests had to be mutually exclusive. I thought that if I became a doctor, there is no way I could still like baking. It’s just NOT what doctors do. If I became a doctor, I had to become the stereotyped professional, graceful, classy individual that doctors are known to be. I couldn’t be my hilarious, laughs-way-too-much goofy self, and that lead to increasing my self-doubt, fear, and anxiety. But once I figured out how to integrate my passions INTO medicine, that is where I found my true happiness.

Going through my own depression as a Pakistani Muslim female medical student, it helped me understand the need for psychiatric services for minorities, for Muslims, for Pakistanis, for females and also for physicians. I fit all four of those minorities and in each of these categories, talking about depression or psychiatric illness is still a taboo. And seeking treatment for it, well forget about that. It’s just not going to happen. However, through my own journey, I became an advocate for the treatment of mental illness and medicine has been a direct path to me being able to help others in that position.

Initially, my career path was chosen for me. But now, I am the one that chooses to continue working in the field of medicine, in my own, unique way. I was able to find my own happiness, myself.