My Journey from the U.S. to Medical School in Islamabad, Pakistan: A Unique Perspective as a Physician

At 18, I made the life-changing decision to leave behind my cushy American life and comfortably family home and move to Islamabad, Pakistan, to attend medical school. As a United States born brat with Pakistani parents, I often told people “I’m Pakistani, from age 1-18 when my parents would quickly say, “nope, you’re American.” I thought I understood what it meant to be Pakistani. I assumed I’d easily blend into the culture. But when I lived in Pakistan for five years, I realized how American I truly was. This journey would open my eyes to some harsh realities of the world, create a new love and fondness in my heart and test my identity, resilience, and adaptability in ways I never anticipated. I remember the “Adapt or Die” sketch I wrote into one of my books. 

Cultural Shocks and Adjustments

The first thing that struck me was how differently women in Pakistan carried themselves. I did not realize people could culturally walk differently. I walked with confidence—a trait ingrained in me as a young woman by my mother —many Pakistani women moved with a more conservative demeanor, often hunching slightly and casting their eyes downward. It wasn’t that they lacked confidence; rather, it was a reflection of societal norms deeply rooted in modesty and tradition. I stood out in ways I hadn’t expected, and my demeanor drew attention—not all of it positive. Vendors commonly overcharged me, men spoke to me disrespectfully, and women unsure of how to treat me kept me at an arms length distance.  

Language was another hurdle. The books and lectures were predominantly in English but the national language of Pakistan is Urdu, and professors and students often switched to Urdu, mid sentence.  

While I’m Pakistani American, I am more Pashtun American: we spoke Pashto and English at home, never Urdu. Pashto, the language of the Pashtun people, is part of my heritage as a 100% Pashtun. Both my parents are from this tribe, which happens to be the largest tribal group in the world, spanning parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Yet, in Pakistan, my inability to speak Urdu fluently made me feel like an outsider in my own cultural landscape

Navigating Judgment and Stereotypes

Not speaking Urdu fluently made people assume I was less intelligent. It reminded me of how Americans sometimes treat foreigners with accents—speaking louder instead of slower, as though the accent implied a lack of understanding. Similarly, in Pakistan, my classmates and professors often treated me as though I were incapable simply because I wasn’t fluent in the language. This judgment was isolating and frustrating, especially when I knew I was just as capable, if not more so, than many of my peers.

One particularly humiliating moment came during a break in a biochemistry lecture. I had gone to the bathroom when my teacher, Mrs. S, followed me. She bluntly asked “Why is your skin like that? Are you on drugs?” She asked if I was on drugs because I had acne! How ridiculous! I was 19 years old! It was a shocking and hurtful accusation, one that while I have forgiven her, I wish I could forget. My appearance—with highlights in my hair and a distinctly different style—already made me stand out, but now it felt like a target. Moments like this reminded me of how deeply appearances and preconceived notions shape people's perceptions.

Finding My Tribe

Fitting in with my peers wasn’t easy. There was a trendy group of Pakistani girls in my class, but I couldn’t connect with them. They were into clothing, hair and makeup.  I just left highschool where I wore baggy clothes and played basketball. Luckily, I found my best friend Habiba. She, like me, was 100% Pashtun and came from a strong, female-led family. Our shared heritage and values created an instant bond. Habiba’s friendship became my anchor, helping me navigate the challenges of medical school and cultural adaptation.

Reflections on Resilience

Looking back, I still can’t believe I moved to Pakistan as a California girl at 18 years old.   There weren’t just cultural differences, there were also political struggles and bombs exploding! One of the restaurants we were driving to had a major bomb blast 5 minutes before we got there! One of my friends’ car blew up in the famous Marriot explosion because we all used to enjoy dining at the Marriot restaurants. I didn’t fully appreciate how much strength and adaptability it required at the time.

My experience in Pakistan taught me more than medicine. It taught me about my own identity, or non-identity, the complexities of cultural belonging, and the strength it takes to follow through with a commitment.  I haven’t even touched on the third difficulty which was that my dad died on my second day of medical school… Thats for another post.  It was on streets of Islamabad, the cafe called “the hot spot”, and my friends’ and families homes that I learned what real friendship is and how to embrace my dual heritage—both the American confidence and the Pashtun pride—and to carry them with me wherever I go.

The Unique Physician I’ve Become

This diverse and challenging background has shaped me into a physician unlike any other. My journey exposed me to cultural nuances and taught me to approach patients with heightened emotional intelligence (EQ) and empathy. I’ve developed a rare combination of technical expertise and bedside manner, deeply understanding the human condition across cultural divides. In fact several patients have said acknowledged me for my bedside manner and some have even said “Are you a MD therapist?”

As a Pashtun woman raised in America and trained in Pakistan, I’ve walked the tightrope of multiple identities. This has allowed me to connect with people from all walks of life. Whether addressing cultural sensitivities, communicating with patients in multiple languages, or offering compassionate care that goes beyond the clinical, I’ve built my practice around understanding and connection.

Today, as a physician, I’m proud of the resilience and adaptability that my journey demands. My story isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving—and bringing the lessons of my diverse experiences to every patient I serve.

If you are looking for a personalized unique approach to your health, look no futher.  Schedule a 15 minute consultation with me.