Why I became a therapist.
An Afghan American clinical psychologist on growing up between cultures, finding therapy that left out her faith, and her mission to give youth tools rooted in their deen.
Assalamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh. I pray this Ramadan brings you closer to Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala. For me, this month has always been a time for spiritual reflection, purpose, and connection. This week I reflected on my own journey and why I became a therapist.
I am an Afghan refugee. My family fled Afghanistan in 1980. When we settled in America, my world felt unfamiliar. I was growing up between cultures and languages, never fully belonging. I felt alone.
By the time I reached college, I was underprepared academically, socially, and emotionally. Anxiety followed me everywhere. I eventually sought therapy despite the stigma in my community.
The therapists were kind, but something felt missing. The care was not grounded in my spiritual or cultural identity. I was being treated for the wounds of the dunya, but my deen was not invited into the healing.
Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest.— Qur’an 13:28
A moment that changed my path
Several years after graduating with my degree in psychology, 9/11 happened. Everything changed overnight. Islamophobia surged. Muslim identity became politicized. Refugee youth were not only navigating adolescence but suspicion and hostility. Their struggles mirrored mine, but intensified.
That moment changed my path. Reflection became my responsibility. Healing became my obligation. If I struggled to find culturally and spiritually grounded care, I knew our youth were struggling even more. I pursued my doctorate in clinical-community psychology at the University of California, Berkeley to equip families and communities with tools before crisis.
Today, as a Muslim Afghan American clinical psychologist at Maristan, I see what happens when people are given tools rooted in their faith. Parents feel less alone. Youth rediscover purpose. Lives are saved.
Healing, together
Last year, Maristan hosted teen mental-health trainings for over 40 Afghan refugees. These were not just workshops, but moments when a young person realized, “My trauma wounds could heal… I am not alone.”
If you believe our youth deserve support that understands both their faith and the realities they face today, I invite you to walk alongside us. May Allah accept our efforts and place barakah in your giving.



