Faith, bias and belonging: A GP’s reflections for Islamophobia Awareness Month

Finding stillness in a busy life

For me, faith sits at the heart of who I am, both as a Muslim and as a GP. My five daily prayers give a sense of pause and stillness in the middle of a hectic day. They help me reconnect with why I do this work. That regular moment of reflection helps me to listen more openly in clinic and respond with patience and clarity.

In general practice we meet people as they are: anxious, tired, hopeful, relieved, afraid, grateful. Faith helps me treat each encounter as meaningful. It reminds me that my role is not only to diagnose and treat, but also to comfort and understand.

I recently performed Umrah, the short pilgrimage to Mecca, and the experience deepened that sense of belonging and peace. Among thousands of pilgrims, people from every background and every language standing side by side, I was reminded that diversity is a gift. Our differences were real, but so was our shared humility. Those same values kindness, patience and compassion are what make good medicine too.

Why we need to talk about Islamophobia

Recent Home Office data shows that hate crimes targeting Muslims in England and Wales rose by 19% in the year to March 2025. It is a reminder that conversations about understanding, and inclusion are not abstract or optional. They are needed.

In healthcare, Islamophobia is rarely shouted out loud. It is more often a quiet assumption or a misunderstanding that passes by unchallenged. I once heard a patient say,

“I do not want to see the woman in the burqa.”

The doctor they meant was simply wearing a headscarf. There was no hostility in their voice, but there was confusion shaped by public narratives and imagery.

Modesty looks different in different cultures. What might be familiar and meaningful in one place can be misunderstood in another. True inclusivity is not about agreeing on everything. It is about making space for people to express who they are, without judgement.

Building trust across difference

As a Muslim GP and an International Medical Graduate, I recognise the quiet unease that can follow global events. The feeling of holding your breath, wondering if suspicion will shift towards you again. Many of us know that feeling.

This is why empathy matters. Bias, even when subtle, can damage trust. Compassion can rebuild it.

The NHS is one of the most diverse workforces in the world. But diversity alone does not guarantee inclusion. Inclusion happens when we choose curiosity instead of assumption, and open conversation instead of silence.

Staying grounded

Throughout training, exams and difficult consultations, faith has helped me to stay grounded. It reminds me to act with fairness and integrity, and to look first at the humanity of the person in front of me.

That is also why it matters to talk about Islamophobia openly. Silence does not protect anyone. The words Muslim and Islam should not feel heavy or difficult to say. Avoidance keeps misconceptions alive; conversation helps dissolve them.

A rich legacy worth remembering

The first word revealed in the Quran - Iqra’ (اقْرَأ), meaning ‘Read’ or ‘Recite’ - placed knowledge at the very heart of faith. Al-Qarawiyyin, in Fez, Morocco, founded in 859 AD by Fatima al-Fihri, is recognised as the world’s oldest continually operating higher-learning institution. A Muslim woman founded it. Its existence tells a story of learning, openness and shared contribution.

And the Taj Mahal, often spoken about for its architectural beauty, is at its core a story of love. Yet public conversations about Islam so often focus on conflict and fear instead of faith, beauty, creativity and compassion.

The quiet emotional weight

There is also a quieter emotional weight that many Muslims recognise. After difficult global events involving Muslims, there is sometimes a moment of self-consciousness. A wondering about how others might be seeing you now. It is subtle, and yet very real.

Choosing compassion in everyday practice

General practice gives us many small chances to build understanding. Asking questions before assuming. Making space for a colleague to pray. Listening without interruption. These are small acts, but they matter.

Speaking about Islamophobia is not divisive or accusatory. It is an act of care for each other and for the profession we love.

Once, when planning an event, a colleague said to me,

“Just do not make it too Islamic.”

It made me pause. It reminded me that even within supportive spaces, people can feel unsure about expressing their faith. Yet the essence of Ramadan compassion, reflection and generosity is the same essence we hold in medicine.

Earlier this year, I organised the RCGP Iftar for International Medical Graduates, bringing together colleagues of all backgrounds. It became one of the College’s fastest-selling events. It was warm, welcoming and full of genuine curiosity.

Meeting each other with sincerity

Faith reminds me to begin each consultation with sincerity and end it with gratitude. Islamophobia Awareness Month reminds me to take that same sincerity beyond the consulting room and into how we treat one another.

Recognising bias is not an act of politics.
It is, at its heart, an act of compassion.