Reem Gaafar

Having switched careers so many times in my life, I always stumble when introducing myself to strangers, because at this point in my life I kind of have no idea what I actually am.

I graduated from Sudan as a doctor and worked in the Gulf for several years as an emergency medicine physician, then moved back home to pursue a full-time career in public health. This job initially involved participating in research and consultancies, but then evolved into organizing large-scale events, image re-branding and managing the institution’s website and social media pages, and writing and publishing project reports and student/client manuals. Alongside acting as editor-in-chief of the quarterly newsletter, I also established the Media Production and Documentation Unit to further translate knowledge and to train staff and students – especially those in disaster management programs in conflict-ridden states – in audiovisual documentation and filmmaking.

And Sudan being the vibrant cultural hub that it is I found myself re-discovering the creative side of me that I had abandoned more than a decade ago. My writing flourished and one of my short stories was published in a book. I trained women journalists from Darfur in blogging to overcome the heavy newspaper censoring in the country. I taught myself documentary filmmaking and photography, graphic designing, started learning html and CSS+ for web design (but didn’t get very far), and was even giving interviews on national television. I contemplated opening a hair salon and a women-only photography studio, and starting my own fashion line for hijabi clothing.

I eventually decided to move into multimedia fulltime and co-managed a multimedia company with a friend where we made and edited films and advertising material and conducted courses in videography and editing. Being in a managerial position, my job was also to organize the company’s erratic finances, create contracts and job descriptions, supervise employees and freelancers, and manage trainees and clients.

Then I was offered a teaching position in a leading private university where I taught public health to undergrads and also designed and taught my first solo course in medical ethics for working radiology professionals. Along the way, I had built a reputation as a medical copyeditor for graduate students and researchers, and continued to do this even after moving to the UAE, where I would eventually become a freelance medical writer after a few public health consultancies. Even as a medical writer, I was pushed out of my comfort zone of health promotion messages to the public into the ever-more complicated world of pharmaceutical marketing.

Looking back over the past 12 years, I consider myself extremely lucky to have been able to make all these changes, mainly because I had the support of my family (both emotional and financial). But switching careers is both exciting and rough, and might not be for everyone.

On the positive side, a change of scenery is always refreshing. I really have no idea how people stay in the same job for years and years. With each change you face new challenges which test your ability to adapt and troubleshoot. You build skills, experience and relationships that you wouldn’t likely find if you were sitting in the same office pushing the same papers since 1993.

Moving around gives you a different perspective – and more importantly, teaches empathy. Delving into the world of public health made me realise just how limited and one-dimensional clinical practice could be when dealing with humans. Furthermore, the variety of skills you pick with all the moving around opens the door to an equal variety of job opportunities – a jack-of-all-trades bonus.

The skills and network you pick up along the way add a richness and depth to your experience, and you never know just how useful than random film editing or event organizing skill you have may come in handy.

But there is also a downside to switching careers, especially when looking for a new job. Employers have a specific job description with x number of years’ experience required. Many times, you can’t even get your foot in the door because even though you have what it takes, your collective experience is trumped by your (lack of) cumulative experience in a specific area: you are a jack-of-all-trades, but kind of master-of-none. I can’t apply for a clinical job anymore because it’s been ages since I practiced, and hospitals aren’t really impressed with my photography and writing skills.

Depending on what your new career choice is, you may need to take new courses or obtain a degree, or even just watch a whole lot of YouTube tutorials. This costs valuable money and/or time. The financial considerations extend to the fact that switching careers effectively means letting go of a job and (possibly) gaining another. This may be difficult when you are financially responsible for yourself or your family, and may also mean moving down the salary scale with your new career of choice.

Furthermore, you will need to rebuild your network and reputation – especially if your old and new careers are very different, and especially if you are moving to a new area/country. Diving into a different job market means a different search strategy and re-writing your resume. Your old recommendations and work experience may not be so useful anymore.

When you think about it, sometimes it might be better to pursue interests as a part-time hobby rather than change your career track completely. It’s not about shying away from what you love; on the contrary: I always advise people (especially doctors) to make time for what they love doing, especially their artistic passions. It’s a vital window you need to keep open to let the light and morning breeze into your tired, worked-to-death soul.

To be honest, I do sometimes wonder how things would have turned out if I had stayed an ER physician for example. I would have had 11+ years’ continuous experience by now, and would probably be working on a fellowship (I liked ultrasound diagnostics). I would be much more financially established and would have much less trouble finding a job should I choose to move. But I seriously doubt I would have had made any films, published any stories, designed any courses, helped any small businesses, joined any protests, or met a fraction of the people I have now. Also, if a psychotic patient or the burnout hadn’t killed me, the boredom would definitely have.

This article was published on LinkedIn.