Super Mama Ft. Sumayah Hasan

When I sit down with Sumayah Hasan, I am not just welcoming a guest. I am welcoming my own sister-in-law, my nand. And the conversation that follows is not a polished, camera-ready chat. It is the kind that happens in a living room when the kids are finally asleep, when the tea has gone cold, and when the truth just spills out.

This episode is about motherhood, yes. But it is also about the woman you were before and the one you become. It is about the things nobody tells you about postpartum life, the shame around talking about female reproductive health, and the quiet, everyday weight of not being financially independent. Sumayah takes me through it all. From studying law to becoming an empowerment coach, from battling workplace bullies to building a business while pregnant with her second child, and from realizing she had postpartum depression to launching her first product, a touch-and-feel Urdu board book for babies. She says it is the hardest job she has ever done. I believe her.

Growing up like one of the boys

Sumayah describes her childhood with four brothers and one much older sister. She grew up in hand-me-downs, playing football and table tennis, never into hair and makeup. Her mother pushed her into sports and outdoor activities, wanting her to be no less than any boy. But when it came time for rishta, suddenly she was told to straighten her hair, put on makeup, and wear salwar kameez. “I was so shocked. All my life I never wore these, now why should I?” The expectation was to suddenly look like a “perfect girl.” That push and pull, between who she was and who she was supposed to be, stayed with her. It planted the first seeds of questioning what society asks of women.

A law degree, a bully, and a big question

Sumayah went to LUMS for her bachelor’s in law, the first child in her family, and a girl at that, to go away for university. It was a huge step, she says now, for her parents to send her. Living alone in another city, managing a budget, she became independent fast. But after graduation, she was hit with a question that would not leave her: “What is the purpose of my life?” Not about careers or jobs, but the bigger existential purpose of being here.

Her first job was at a law firm. Six months. The only other woman there, her direct manager, constantly belittled and bullied her. “That was the first point where I really hit rock bottom. She completely broke my self-esteem.” It was another woman pulling a woman down. Later, at an NGO, she found a supportive Canadian boss who told her, “Sumaya, you are a star. You need to get out of here and do big things.” But still, she could not see it. She also faced a male colleague who made her uncomfortable and she did not report it because she feared how the organization would react and worried her parents might stop her from working. This, she points out, is the constant background noise a working woman navigates. The thoughts about being dressed appropriately, about respect, about safety, about what log kya kahenge, what will people say, all while being expected to perform.

From Snapchat to breaking taboos

In Thailand, where she later moved and worked for three years, Sumayah started recording short empowerment videos on Snapchat. She would walk home from the office and just talk. About self-esteem, confidence, the importance of women traveling. The response was huge. “I realized how dire the need is in Pakistan for women to have mentors, motivational speakers, someone to just guide them.” That casual sharing eventually became a blog and a YouTube channel.

Then she decided to talk about something no one was discussing openly: PCOS, which she herself was struggling with. Her family was worried. They asked, “Sumaya, are you sure you want to talk about this?” They tried to convince her to take the post down. But she was adamant. “That was the first time I understood myself and realized how passionate I was about talking about things that really mattered to other women, the things other people were scared to talk about.” She did not care about backlash if it would help even one girl. And it did. The post resonated deeply, and she still gets messages from women who come to her profile just to read about PCOS.

A mother is also born

When Sumayah moved back to Pakistan, she found out she was pregnant. She was also coming from a long stint abroad, from being an earning woman to suddenly a full-time mom. The transition was brutal. “When my child was born, I was completely transformed as a person. The Sumaya before and the Sumaya now are two completely different people.” Her life, her needs, became secondary. No matter how much friends warned her, she thought she would nail it. She did not.

She gained 20 kilos during pregnancy. Even after losing 18 in the first year, the body shaming from people around her, including family and friends, was constant. And then there was her mental health. “Postpartum depression really creeps in slowly. For the longest time I didn’t even know I was going into it.” She thought she was too positive and too happy to get depressed. But she was self-isolating, filled with negative self-talk, resenting her husband for still being able to sleep or go out to buy groceries. “I actually felt jealous because I could not do it.” That admission is so common, yet so rarely said out loud.

Eventually, she hit a point where nothing felt okay. She realized she needed to stop. She had been running support groups for other moms, but her own mental health was crumbling. So she took a break from everything, from blogging, from social media, for eight months. “It was hard to accept that you should just be a mom.” Our generation is taught to study, build a career, and then suddenly, when a baby comes, all of that is supposed to vanish and you are just supposed to sit at home. That decision to let go, to not even do her hobby if it was adding pressure, was a conscious one. “I was so much better. I felt so relieved. One tension just lifted off my head.” She learned to pace herself, to say, “Today, the kids are having a tough day. It’s okay. I will get to my tasks tomorrow. Even if my business takes eight months to establish, it’s okay.” The kids became her first priority, and everything else fit around that.

Why every woman needs financial independence

When she came back, she started Super Khawateen, a series interviewing women about their journeys to financial independence. “It’s extremely empowering.” She had felt the loss of not contributing, even though her husband never made her feel that way. It was an internal thing, a matter of pride. “When we were in Thailand, I would put my salary aside for traveling. I genuinely felt happy that I was able to take our family on vacation. And now, when you are not doing that, you feel left out.” She believes no matter what your circumstances, every woman should have her own income. It shifts the power dynamic, gives you confidence, and is a safety net you cannot afford to ignore. The digital age makes it possible to earn from home, in pockets of time, around your children. It is okay to be a stay-at-home mom, and it is also okay to work, but prioritizing financial independence, even slowly, is essential.

A little book, a big difference

Super Mama was born after her second child, Noorai. The platform shares information on motherhood, pregnancy, sexual reproductive health, and creates a community where moms support each other. From there, Sumayah identified a gap: there were no good baby board books in Urdu, no touch-and-feel books contextualized for Pakistani children. Her daughter Meera was learning everything in English from cartoons and imported books. So Sumayah created the “Baby Touch and Feel Animals” board book, in both Urdu and English, with animals a child can see on the street, like a cat (billi, sound miao miao) or a rooster (murgha, sound kukroon koo). The textures are fun, the images vibrant, and the first thing a mom reads when she opens the box is “You are doing great, Mama.”

This product is not just about teaching words. It is about bonding, about representation, about saying, you do not need to buy imported books to give your child a rich learning experience. It is one small thing that matters deeply.

The takeaway for my listeners

Sumayah’s story is not a neat, linear success tale. It is full of rock bottoms and tiny, hard-won victories. What I love about this conversation is that it makes space for the messy parts. The resentment, the body shame, the depression you do not even know you have. It says, it is okay to not know what you are doing, to take a break, to let go, and then to come back, stronger. It says, every mother carries multitudes. And it reminds us that the small things, like a touch-and-feel book in your own language, can be acts of empowerment. For the desi woman listening, I hope you hear this and feel a little less alone and a little more sure that whatever pace you choose, you are doing a great job.