For so many Muslim women, the hijab is more than just a piece of cloth—it’s a deeply personal, multifaceted decision tied to identity, faith, and empowerment. My hijab story is marked by discovery, struggle, and conviction. Today, I want to share my journey with you in hopes that it inspires reflection, resilience, and perhaps even connection.

How It All Began
I first put on the hijab at 13 years old. Nobody in my family wore it at the time, making me the first to take the leap. My best friend had just returned from Umrah, deeply moved by the experience, and had started wearing the hijab herself. Watching her make this commitment sparked something within me.

For me, the hijab made sense. I didn’t like drawing the attention of men and felt that wearing it would make my life easier. It gave me a sense of comfort and control over how I presented myself to the world. Still, being the first in my family to wear it wasn’t always easy. Questions and awkward stares acted like small roadblocks, but they didn’t shake the deeper meaning the hijab gave me.

The Crisis
Like many journeys, though, mine wasn’t without challenges.

Growing up Muslim while facing Islamophobia exposed me to subtle and overt forms of exclusion, judgment, and fear. Over time, the weight of these encounters began to build, eventually leading me to question how I wanted to be seen in the world—how I could be seen and understood. At one point, I felt compelled to take off my hijab.

For four long months, I walked away from something that had been such a vital part of my identity. I longed for relief, for a sense of anonymity, but instead, I felt like I had lost myself. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back. Something fundamental was missing. I didn’t realize until then just how much the hijab was intertwined with my self-perception and gratitude toward my faith.

How It Ended
Healing my discomfort with my identity wasn’t an overnight process—it required patience, reflection, and a lot of faith. But as I started addressing my anxieties and reconciling my relationship with the world around me, the hijab became a natural next step. This time, it felt entirely mine.

When I donned it again, I did so with stronger conviction. It was no longer about what anyone else thought—it was my choice, reinforced by a love and gratitude for my Creator. Now, the hijab feels empowering. It’s not just something I wear; it’s an extension of my faith and an expression of my love for Allah.

My Advice
To anyone considering wearing the hijab, whether you’re young or older, here’s what I’d like to share:

• • Wear it for the right reason. The hijab isn’t just about covering your head; it’s an act of devotion. Wear it to please Allah, not for societal expectations.
  • Focus on the spiritual beauty. Rather than thinking of the hijab as a restriction, see it as an opportunity to strengthen your bond with your Creator.
  • Make it your decision. The hijab is a personal choice—one that should feel empowering, not forced. Take your time to introspect and decide what feels right for you.

For me, the hijab is a reflection of my deep gratitude and love toward Allah. It helps me walk through the world in alignment with my values of modesty, faith, and authenticity.
Final Thoughts

The hijab symbolizes so much more than an outward expression of modesty. It’s a profound reminder of who I am, where I’ve been, and the principles guiding my life. Every person’s hijab story is unique, and our collective experience strengthens the beautiful tapestry of our Muslim community.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Asma is a leadership expert and renowned professional coach, who integrates Islamic spirituality and strategic coaching to empower leaders in personal and professional growth.

The post Embracing Identity: The Story of My Hijab appeared first on World Hijab Day.

I had a covid infection a few months ago. The symptoms were mild during the peak infection period, but what followed were long days of fatigue and drag across my chores. Outside of work, I am the type of person who enjoys pursuing hobbies and these activities fuel my passion for life. This time, I noticed that I couldn’t keep my eyes open even during work hours, that cooking and cleaning were burdensome and that keeping up with a toddler was challenging.

There were courses I signed up for, so many collaborations I wanted to do, but I simply didn’t have the energy to do much of anything. All I want to do now is finish my work hours, see if I can just cook something to feed the family and myself and go to bed. I don’t have the energy to devote extra hours to preparing a healthy meal.

I had another flu the week before Eid and it was so bad that I was convinced it was covid. I did a self-test, which came back negative, and went to the doctor. It was negative once more; it was just the flu!! The flu caused considerable muscle pain, fever, coughing fits, as well as a blocked nose that left me gasping for air at night. Probably the worst flu I’ve ever had after childhood.

The Eid festival came and went. I couldn’t even get out of bed so my Eid plans went right out the window. As a couple, we spent Eid in Belgium alone, without our families, but we made sure to celebrate in our own way by dressing up, preparing meals and home decor, keeping the house looking fresh and shiny; we might even go out or invite friends over.

This Eid, on the other hand, was unusual. I couldn’t make myself feel any better by doing anything I normally enjoyed on Eid. As I lay in bed, staring into space, sadness hit me hard in the face.

I was wading through the sea of emotions I was experiencing and for the first time I felt, for all the chronically ill people who couldn’t move to celebrate. In other words, any Eid is the same as the day before for the people who are alone and sick, for  the people who are too old and sick to celebrate it and for those away from family. How lonely and burdensome all these people must have felt all those Eids, when my healthy self was celebrating it.

Another thought had emerged even though I subconsciously was fighting it all along: it wasn’t just my fatigue that kept me from moving; it was rather, the shadow of loss. I had lost my plans and I had lost any accomplishment that could have been.

But Allah swt, the Greatest Planner, has His plans. It sometimes isn’t what we expect and it’s painful to let go of our own plans, to accept His will when it doesn’t show the light upon us as yet. However, we have to keep going with the flow because He designed everything in this world in pairs of opposites: day and night, heat and cold, happiness and sadness, health and sickness, etc.

You can be sad that it’s over, happy that it happened and cautious that something else will come up or change.

This trust in His system and in Him is learned through the darkest days, through the deep submission that comes after the stages of deep loneliness and sadness, that sense of helplessness, powerlessness and loss. When you hit rock bottom, your soul remembers only one thing: Submission to His Lord, “Ya’ Allah,” it says.

What comes naturally to us in happier and lighter moments is our Gratitude to our Creator, and what comes naturally to us in heavier moments is true Submission, an understanding through helplessness that you are not in control and in charge, that someone else is, that you weren’t the one planning and manifesting, it was always someone else, that no matter how dark it appears, the dawn will come with His will,  and no matter how beautiful or long the day is, this will end with His will.

About the Author

Sana Khan is a Motivational Speaker, Writer and Coach. Moreover, Khan has attained her engineering degree from Shobhit Institute of Engineering and Technology (now a Deemed University) and Dr. APJ Abdul Kamal University (former UPTU) in India. She has an MA in International Business from EAE Business School in Barcelona Spain and UPC Catalunya, Spain. Khan has recently written a motivational eBook entitled, “Dreamcatcher Framework.” She has also co-authored a spiritual anthology called, “Pause and Pen.” When she is not reading or writing, she prefers to nature-walk or sip coffee with her husband and son in Belgium.

Website: www.talkwithsana.com

YouTube and Facebook @TalkwithSana

Instagram @Sanakrblogs

The post An Unusual Eid and its Reflections appeared first on World Hijab Day.

For me, Ramadan is a month of rahma (mercy) during which we fast from dawn to sunset, perform extra acts of ibadah, give to charity and feast over a beautifully spread ‘Ramzan Dasterkhwaan’ (food). It is a time to thrive in our community spirit where we invite one another and break our fast and pray together. Every Ramadan brings back memories of wonderful iftar times with family and a delectable buffet of dishes. Fruit chat (fruit salad), Rooh Afza Sherbet and pakoras (fritters) are my favorites!

Back in India, I filled myself with all of these at iftar time and then, struggled to keep my eyes open during Taraweeh salah (the recommended prayer in Ramadan).

I recall designing my Eid outfit and having it stitched by none other than the dressmaker, who was more in demand during Ramadan than the Imam (religious leader) of the mosque.

There was a special Ramadan bazaar, where people went after prayers, to buy desserts and breads. Those same people preferred to work at night while managing their prayers in between nap times during the day.

As I grew older and moved locations for education and employment purposes, my understanding of Ramadan evolved. It was the ‘dasterkhwaan’ which disappeared first, as finding something to eat while studying and fasting at the same time, became a priority. There was very little energy left to cook or plan a special spread. Sometimes, even that community spirit was missing. While working, the iftar spread was shrinking every year, though my brother and I supplemented it with special Ramadan delights from the neighborhood’s Muslim market.

When I moved to work abroad, the meaning of Ramadan changed dramatically; there was no family, no community and there were few people with whom I could share my iftar. The fasting hours were much longer; however, I still held onto the spirit of ‘dasterkhwaan’ by cooking for myself, while pampering the little girl within me. How did I fill the void inside of me?

Rather than the typical way of looking at Ramadan, I used the time to reflect. Even without my family, a sense of community, the necessity for Eid clothing or the time spent preparing meals for iftar, Ramadan was still Ramadan. What’s left is now and what’s gone is the Ramadan of my childhood, to which I kept subconsciously comparing my new Ramadan traditions. Regardless, I still have my lovely nostalgic memories, but they no longer control my Ramadan joy.

In my new equation of Ramadan and me for many years now, it has been improving: it has gone from some days of feeling burdened or tired during the long fasting hours and sometimes, missing out on socializing or traveling, to embracing that Allah doesn’t burden us with Ramadan; rather, Allah provides us with a lifestyle that teaches us discipline.

Although Ramadan is difficult for our nafs (self/psyche/ego), it nourishes our souls and hearts.

Overall, Ramadan is a powerful reminder of what we can achieve in a single month of fasting, abstinence and reflection; it is absolutely necessary for our spiritual growth to expand beyond the limitations of our minds.

If we can abstain from that which is halal for us, for long periods of time for a month, how difficult would it then be for us to abstain from that which is haram for the rest of the year…for the rest of our lives? To connect with our Creator, all we need to do is set an intention, pray and keep Ramadan in our hearts even when the month is over.

About the Author

Sana Khan is a Motivational Speaker, Writer and Coach. Moreover, Khan has attained her engineering degree from Shobhit Institute of Engineering and Technology (now a Deemed University) and Dr. APJ Abdul Kamal University (former UPTU) in India. She has an MA in International Business from EAE Business School in Barcelona Spain and UPC Catalunya, Spain. Khan has recently written a motivational eBook entitled, “Dreamcatcher Framework.” She has also co-authored a spiritual anthology called, “Pause and Pen.” When she is not reading or writing, she prefers to nature-walk or sip coffee with her husband and son in Belgium.

Website: www.talkwithsana.com
YouTube and Facebook @TalkwithSana
Instagram @Sanakrblogs

The post RAMADAN REFLECTION: THEN AND NOW appeared first on World Hijab Day.