Today we’d like to introduce you to Mahad Mohamed.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
Hi, so where do I even start [laughs]. Well I was born in East Africa, in a place where mornings begin with the hum of prayer and the smell of warm tea drifting through open windows. My childhood felt like a tapestry of tradition, family, and quiet strength. Life was simple, but every moment carried meaning, with lessons in patience, gratitude, and perseverance woven into the smallest routines. Even as a child, I could sense the depth in the way people carried themselves.
Upon completing my Islamic studies, I discovered the beauty of seeking knowledge for its own sake. And then, almost overnight, I found myself leaving everything I knew behind, the dusty roads, the familiar voices, the language of home, and arriving in America. Dallas, Texas, felt like a different planet. I remember staring out of car windows, watching highways stretch endlessly and buildings tower over me, feeling so small and disconnected. I didn’t have the words for it then, but I was grieving for the life I left behind and for the version of me that belonged to it. In those early days, I felt a loneliness only a child can understand.
In school, I was quiet, always observing. I remember one moment in elementary school that opened up the world a little more. It was career day, and a guest speaker, a game developer, came in. I barely understood what he did, but the idea of creating something from nothing sparked something in me. That spark became a fire the summer I attended the Bernard Harris Summer Science Camp. I was in fifth grade. Meeting Dr. Harris, the first Black astronaut to walk in space, made the impossible feel possible. He looked like me. He spoke to us like we mattered. That night after the camp was over, I went home and started building on MIT’s Scratch website. Every click felt like a small step toward making sense of the world and my place in it.
By the time I was fourteen, I had been accepted into a program that allowed me to graduate from high school in just one year. It wasn’t easy. I often felt like I was sprinting to catch up, expected to act twice my age. But I stayed focused, holding on to the vision. At sixteen, I started college at the University of Texas at Arlington, majoring in computer science. The campus felt enormous, and I felt small, still that quiet observer, but with bigger questions and more to prove.
During my freshman year, a professor offhandedly mentioned his salary as a network engineer. It stopped me in my tracks. I had never imagined someone making that kind of money doing something like that, not where I was from. That single comment lit a fire in me. I started researching, not out of love at first, but out of necessity. That kind of salary could help my family. It could pay for school. It could give us room to breathe. So I dug in, studied, certified, and worked until passion found me.
At seventeen, I landed my first tech role at Korn Ferry after picking up a couple certifications and killing it in interviews. It was more than just a job, it was validation at that age. They saw something in me that I was still learning to see in myself. Around that time, I started sharing photos on Instagram, nothing curated, just pieces of my life. Somehow, they caught the attention of an agency. I had always admired people like A$AP Rocky, Pharrel, and others who made fashion feel like emotion in motion. I signed, thanks to Julian, and a new door opened.
That opportunity led me to New York City. Stepping onto those streets for the first time felt surreal. Every block was its universe. Meeting Julian in person, walking into castings, and navigating the fashion world taught me so much about expression, connection, and creativity. Modeling gave me a stage where I could express myself without words. I traveled, met artists and stylists whose stories reshaped mine, and found parts of myself I hadn’t met before.
While working at Korn Ferry, I landed another remote tech role and got my first hands-on experience in network engineering as a network administrator at a small MSP company in San Antonio called Dynamus Tech. David, the founder, gave me the freedom to learn and grow. He didn’t micromanage; he encouraged. That experience made me sharper and more confident. It laid the groundwork for every role that followed.
Later, I joined Berkadia Commercial Mortgage as the only tech person in office. That was my first real exposure to finance, and it opened my eyes to how people think on a bigger scale, long-term visions, and big ideas. The CEO there became a mentor. Our conversations shifted how I saw my path. I realized I didn’t just want to be an engineer. I wanted to be in the room where decisions were made. That’s when I changed my major to a dual degree in Management Information Systems and Finance, with plans to pursue an executive MBA after I graduate, Inshallah.
Today, Alhamdulillah, I work as a network engineer while finishing those degrees. The schedule is demanding, but what drives me every morning isn’t just ambition; it’s purpose. I come from a place where kids dream with limited means, where opportunities like mine are rare. I carry their stories with me.
This summer feels like another turning point. I have shoots lined up that challenge me and visions that are starting to take form. I’m also working on a brand, which is meant to bring the East African & West African communities together here in Dallas. It’s more than just fashion, it’s about identity, belonging, and expression. There’s a hunger in me that won’t quiet down, to build, to connect, and to leave something meaningful behind.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Has it been a smooth road? Not even close. While I picked up English quickly, enough to blend in within my first year and without much of an accent, that didn’t mean I always felt understood. Fitting in goes far beyond language. It’s in the silences, the cultural gaps, the constant code-switching between who you are at home and who you feel you have to be outside of it.
There were subtler struggles, the ones you don’t always have the words for until much later. Like being painfully camera-shy, not wanting to be seen too much, to take up space, to expose yourself to judgment. I used to avoid photos, felt stiff in front of a lens, unsure of how to exist openly in front of others. It took time and growth to realize that visibility could be power, that being seen wasn’t something to fear, but something to embrace.
There were also the quieter battles of self-doubt. Feeling like I had to constantly prove I belonged, that I was smart enough, capable enough, worthy enough. Even in spaces where I was doing well, imimpostoryndrome had a way of whispering lies. The pressure to succeed, not just for myself but for everyone who believed in me, everyone I felt I represented, could feel overwhelming at times.
And there were the sacrifices. Missing out on parts of a so-called “normal” childhood because I was focused on accelerating through school. Skipping social events, feeling like I was always in a rush to get somewhere, because I was. Because I knew how rare this chance was, and I couldn’t afford to waste it. Even now, I still come across moments that remind me of how different my path has been. I’ll be in a room where everyone is laughing at a reference to a TV show or movie they grew up with, and I’ll smile along, not quite getting it. There are gaps in my pop culture vocabulary that quietly set me apart. It’s not a big thing, but it’s one of those small reminders that I grew up learning a different set of stories. It used to make me feel like an outsider, now, I just see it as another layer to my perspective.
So no, it hasn’t been easy. But those struggles, seen and unseen, shaped my resilience. They sharpened my focus and softened my heart. They taught me to value growth over comfort, depth over ease. And they reminded me that becoming who you are is never about a straight line, it’s about showing up, even when you don’t have it all figured out.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
It’s always been hard to fit that into a single sentence. At my core, I build, sometimes in code, in culture, sometimes in community. My work lives at the intersection of technology and identity. On the technical side, I specialize in network engineering, and am currently taking on a role in a Fortune 10 company, and learned how to solve complex infrastructure challenges. But beyond the job title, I see myself as a bridge, someone who connects people, systems, and ideas.
I’m also a fashion model who thinks deeply about how expression can be used to bring people together. Through fashion, I’ve found a way to translate the nuances of my identity into something visual, something you can feel without needing to explain. It started small, with photos and curiosity, but it’s grown into shoots across cities, and soon the world.
What I’m most proud of isn’t a job title or resume line. It’s the way I’ve stayed true to myself across very different spaces. That, to me, is success: having the courage to carry every part of yourself, even when the room wasn’t built with you in mind.
What sets me apart is my duality. I’m equally at home configuring networks as I am in front of a camera. I understand structure and flow, logic and rhythm. I’ve seen how technology can uplift communities and how art can heal them. I’m most alive when I’m weaving those two worlds together.
Whether I’m solving a routing issue or sketching the first pieces of a community-centered culture wear brand, the purpose is always the same. To leave something better than I found it. To reflect the voices of people who rarely see themselves fully represented. To build not just with wires or words, but with heart.
Can you share something surprising about yourself?
I think people are often surprised by how introverted I am. From the outside, especially through modeling or public-facing roles, it can seem like I’m someone who thrives in the spotlight, someone always ready to be seen or heard. But the truth is, I draw most of my energy from solitude. I’ve always been the type to observe before I speak, to sit back and take in a room before I move through it.
Even now, despite the cameras and the tech presentations, I still prefer quiet spaces and deep conversations over noise and attention. I enjoy connecting with people, but I need time alone to recharge and realign. That inner stillness is where most of my ideas are born; it’s where I process, where I dream.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mmohamxd/
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/mahadmohamedcs/
Image Credits
https://www.instagram.com/mmohamxd/
