Since graduating from RISD's architecture program, my career journey has been a rollercoaster of self-discovery. During school, my insecurity about not being the world's greatest architect was only matched by my perseverance to prove myself and others wrong. I was operating at 200% capacity every day, yet yielding only 50% of the quality of my architecture peers. I was extremely unhealthy, anxious, and often made terrible decisions.
Accidentally taking a graphic design class in my final winter session, I saw it as an opportunity to create a portfolio for architecture job applications before graduation. Before our final book was due, I drank two cans of Red Bull (I did not drink coffee during my time at RISD) and stayed up all night applying the logic of grid systems I had learned in architecture to margins and columns in InDesign. Everything just clicked that night. My professor, Ernesto Aparicio, who had thought I was just loitering in class for the entire semester, said, "I don't know what your major is, but you need to be a graphic designer for the rest of your life. This is talent!"
So obviously, I ignored his advice entirely and pushed myself to be a practicing architect in New York City after graduation at Robert A. M. Stern Architects, while still feeling nervous and unfulfilled at my core. Even after leaving the U.S. due to visa issues, working with RISD alumni architects in Pakistan, and returning to New York City in 2017, I continued to ignore Ernesto's advice and worked as an architect at Gensler, until the global pandemic capitulated the industry.
It's perhaps also worth noting before I continue, that I did successfully build things. The One Vanderbilt skyscraper next to Grand Central Station, the Swan Reserve Hotel at Disney's Epcot, the new Harvard Kennedy School of Government campus, three offices for Google New York, offices for Barclays Bank, Verizon and Ernst & Young, four 2,000 square yard residences for very wealthy Pakistanis, a high-school complex and a maternity clinic in an impoverished area of Pakistan, to name a few.
It was only when I lost my job at Gensler, the world seemed doomed, and I had nothing but pandemic unemployment checks to my name that I found the courage to teach myself user interface design through YouTube, blending graphic design and user experience design—a passion I've been following since graduation. I could not afford a General Assembly bootcamp at the time. Seeing my peers excel in big tech, I realized my potential as a graphic designer had no ceiling. This was untrue of me as an architect; I was, at best, an average architect, locked in a metropolitan market that lacked diversity and progressive thinking.
It took a year, 250 job application rejections, and many tears, but I finally broke into the space as a design system product designer at a cryptocurrency startup called BlockFi (rest in peace Bitcoin 2022). I was promoted three times in a year and a half. During my five years as a practicing architect, I wasn't promoted once and barely made enough money to pay rent in Manhattan.
Fast forward to the present day, I now lead a team of product designers building a design system at Microsoft. After a decade of battling depression, insecurity, and cowardice, I have risen up and begun shaping how the future of artificial intelligence will impact us all. I have never been happier, nor have I felt more fulfilled. I am proud and empowered by the work I do every single day.
I owe much to my trials and failures as an architecture student at RISD. They taught me discipline, precision, and obsession. Without manual drafting on a Mayline at the BEB, I would have been just a run-of-the-mill user experience designer, not a user interface leader. Ernesto's stamp of approval on my graphic design skills, unbeknownst to him, saved my career.
Prof. Jonathan Knowles, Prof. Peter Tagiuri (Sir) and Prof. Christopher Bardt, among others continually reassured me that architecture is a discipline, not just a profession. It has taken me ten years to realize this fully and I owe them for that. There are so many people who continued to support me throughout all my hardships at RISD, including Amanda Wright, Karen Harris and Prof. Mairead Byrne, whom I can only repay by paying it forward and helping others.
Now, I give back by mentoring on a free network called ADPList. Every Friday, I open my Zoom doors to anyone worldwide. Half the time, its former architects, following my journey online and wanting the same change for themselves. 10% of my mentees are fellow RISD alumni, seeking the secure and empowered feeling I now possess.
Thank you, RISD, for bringing out the absolute best and absolute worst in me. My concluding advice to others is to remain kind —you never know how a single conversation, instance of praise or a simple pat on the back can change someone's career, self-perception, and life.