This isn’t Friday, and it isn’t a usual TGIF post. I’m sharing this because something has been lingering with me for the past week. This isn’t written in anger, but in surrender, for anyone who chooses to listen.
Faith is a lifelong journey. At times, it is easy. At others, you struggle through it. I, myself, have lived through many versions of that journey. If you’ve known me for a long time, you’d know the different versions of me: who I was in school, out of school, and now, as an adult. You would have seen the changes outwardly, but I hope you’ve also taken the time to really know me. To know that no matter how I’ve changed on the outside, I have always remained the same on the inside.
I’ve spoken about faith in past entries. My struggles with it, how I view it, and how I try to build a life centered around it. The reality of sharing pieces of my life online is that my choices become open to scrutiny. As human beings, we can’t escape curiosity. People will wonder and people will judge, often quietly, behind closed doors. But occasionally, those judgments are made publicly, without much thought for how they land.
If you happen to be reading this (and you know who you are), know that I recognize your intention to want good for me. I see it, even through the tone that felt less than kind. I ran your words past multiple people, including my mother, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining how sharp they felt. I understand that you may feel a responsibility to advise. And as Muslims ourselves, advising one another is a responsibility. I’ve received advice throughout my life, and I’ve always welcomed constructive feedback. Not just about faith, but just about anything in life.
I appreciate you coming forward to tell me that I should dress better, I really do. I hear it. I see it. And I take it sincerely. Still, I’ll be honest, it makes me sad. Not because I’m unwilling to reflect, but because there isn’t a single day that passes where I don’t consciously try to remember God, placing Him at the centre of my decisions.
But I owe no one an explanation. My relationship with Allah does not require an audience. It is private. It is personal. It exists in moments that are unseen, unspoken, and deeply internal.
There is a difference between advice and judgment.
“Have you forgotten God?” did not feel like guidance. It did not invite reflection; it shut it down. You may say it came from a place of care, but intention matters. Words carry weight, and faith is not strengthened through shame or public interrogation.
Perhaps this was how Allah chose to nudge me, through you. And perhaps it is also a reminder for myself to never pass judgment on others who may be struggling quietly and privately, in ways I cannot see. May we always remember that advice, especially on matters of faith, should be given with care and wisdom.
To those who are struggling with your faith, whether it’s dressing modestly, completing your prayers, or exercising self-restraint from sins — I see you. I know it can be hard, like going to war with yourself, but Allah sees all of your efforts, and that is what truly matters. Because so much of faith is lived quietly, privately, and unseen.
Some things are between a person and God alone. And that, too, deserves respect.
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