Israel deports foreign activists participating in West Bank olive harvest.

I remembered why I hate watching the news and why I am so uncomfortable when my daughter is near me when I watch it. She was sitting at the dining room table, deep in thought about how she could break up the number ten in three different ways. I was washing dishes with the news playing softly on my phone. College campuses filled the frame — students chanting across green lawns hemmed in by police in riot gear. It felt surreal, as if I were watching a war zone unfold on an Ivy League campus.

My daughter hears the shouting: “Free, free Palestine!” I try to mute the video, but it’s too late. Since our trip to Palestine last year, she has developed a kind of radar — anytime the word Palestine is mentioned within earshot, she rushes over to see what it’s about. She is drawn to her roots, pulled by something deep and familiar. She comes running to me, eyes wide with recognition and hope.

“Mama,” she says, “I want to go.”

In our home, justice isn’t something we just talk about — it is something we practice. We’ve discussed boycotts, what it means to use your voice with purpose, and how standing up to oppression is an act of faith. With all the protests these past months, she has joined them more than once, her small hands keeping rhythm with the drums as voices around her rose in unison.

But before she can finish her sentence, footage flashes across the screen of students being thrown to the ground and arrested. Confusion crosses her face. Her eyes search mine for an explanation. I froze. I realized in that moment something irreversible was happening — something I had hoped wouldn’t happen for a very long time.

My daughter was growing up in front of my eyes. These few seconds would shape her being faster than years of childhood ever could. For the first time, she was seeing just how unfair and unjust the world she lives in can be.

I tried to explain that some people don’t want others talking about the genocide happening in Gaza. Her brows furrowed. “But Mama, people are dying,” she said softly. “That’s never okay.”

That moment will stay with me forever: the first time my daughter experienced moral dissonance. It was a concept I had read about so many times, but I never felt the full weight of it until now. That painful awareness in her eyes that the values she has been taught to hold sacred do not always govern the world around her. For children, moments like this aren’t abstract. They aren’t “complicated.” They are simple and formative. They build the architecture of their belief systems.

Developmental psychologists like Lawrence Kohlberg tell us that as children grow, they move from obedience to conscience. They grow from doing what is expected to understanding why something is right or wrong. When that understanding collides with the punishments or silences of the adult world, they enter a moral freefall. Their conscience and consequence no longer align.

“Children are not born with distrust. They are taught it. They learn it by omission, by silence, by the lessons we are too afraid to name.” [PC: Melbin Jacob (unsplash]

For Muslim children today, this freefall feels endless, but still, they continue to fight the tide pushing them down. They scrape with all their might to hold on to any moral grounding that might stop their fall. 

What pushed them into this freefall? Realizing that their world punishes empathy toward Palestinians because it challenges the narratives of power. They realize that mourning the murdered is seen as defiance because the world refuses to acknowledge the oppressed.

Muslim children are taught that courage means standing for justice, but then they watch college students handcuffed for doing exactly that. They are told that honesty matters, but they see adults stay silent to keep their jobs. They see compassion rewarded only when it is convenient, and condemned when it challenges power.

This isn’t confusion. It’s something far deeper — it’s a spiritual and moral collapse. A wound that forms when their moral world shatters. Those in power have betrayed the very values they claim to uphold, and it has fractured our children’s moral foundation. In schools, we call it cognitive dissonance. In childhood, it simply feels like heartbreak.

Then we turn around and pretend to preach Social/Emotional Learning (SEL). We tell them to practice empathy. We tell them they must be self-aware. We teach them to make responsible decisions rooted in ethics. Yet the world they live in violates every one of these principles in plain sight. “Responsible decision-making” in our world has little to do with ethics. It’s about bottom lines, hidden agendas, and five-year plans that ignore human impact unless it aligns with profit or power.

How are we supposed to teach empathy when compassion for certain lives is punished? How can we model social awareness when silence is praised as professionalism? How can we ask for “responsible decision-making” when we, the adults, excuse violence because it’s “complicated,” —  which really means I don’t want to look closely enough to see the human cost?

For Muslim youth watching Gaza unfold, these lessons ring hollow. They are being asked to regulate emotions that adults are too afraid to name. They are being asked to build relationships in a world that others their faith. They are being asked to make “ethical choices” in a moral landscape that keeps shifting beneath their feet.

No wonder our kids are exhausted, anxious, and depressed. They live in a world that preaches empathy but rewards apathy. They live in a world that teaches inclusion but normalizes exclusion. The world keeps telling them, “Do as I say, not as I do.” Then we wonder why they don’t trust the systems that are meant to guide them. We wonder why they question everything. We don’t have a generation of children who “just listen” anymore because the world no longer makes sense.

The faith we once placed in authority no longer exists. We grew up believing the adults around us wanted to keep us safe. Our children are watching those same adults look away as their tax dollars kill tens of thousands of people who look and speak just like them. They are witnessing a moral dissonance so loud it drowns out every promise we make to them. Somewhere deep inside, their instincts whisper: trust no one.

Children are not born with distrust. They are taught it. They learn it by omission, by silence, by the lessons we are too afraid to name. When young people repeatedly witness injustice without repair, they internalize one of two messages: either morality is performative or they must carry the moral weight that adults have dropped.

And so they do.

They carry it.

They carry it in their sleeplessness and in their anger. They carry it in their posts, their protests, and their art. They begin to see everything as a cause because the world has shown them that indifference kills. Their restlessness is not rebellion…it is grief with nowhere to go.

Erik Erikson reminds us that adolescence is the stage of identity — of testing who they are against what the world says they should be. Albert Bandura’s social learning theory reminds us that children model what they see. So what happens when they are testing their limits in a world that models hypocrisy? When every adult in the room looks away instead of calling it out?

They learn that silence is safer than truth.
They learn that empathy must be rationed.
They learn that belonging requires erasure.

If we, as educators, want to heal this fracture, we have to start by being honest about it. We cannot ask students to “self-regulate” emotions we refuse to validate. We cannot praise “perspective-taking” while silencing their own perspectives with “It’s too complicated.” We cannot teach courage as a virtue while punishing its expression.

SEL without moral clarity becomes compliance training.
Character education without justice becomes performance.

When I think back to that night with my daughter, I realize she wasn’t just asking about Gaza. She was asking about justice itself — whether the world still has a conscience. I don’t want her heart to harden before it fully blooms. I want her to keep believing that justice, humanity, and truth still matter. I want her to keep believing that speaking for the oppressed is not a crime but a command.

As the chant for “cease-fire” echoes across the world today, people begin to find slivers of hope, but then the news breaks again: more assassinations, more bombings, more death. In that moment, I can’t help but wonder how deep this wound will go for our children.

They are living in a constant state of contradiction — hearing one thing on mainstream news while knowing, in their bones, another truth entirely. It’s a unique kind of dissonance. It is the dissonance that comes from watching the attempt to erase an entire society in real time: thousands killed, thousands more entombed beneath rubble, hundreds still breathing through dust and despair.

Yet, our children are still hearing people call this genocide “complicated.”

This is the work before us as educators and as parents: to rebuild moral trust. We need to show our children that the values we recite are not decorative words but living principles. We need to prove to them, through our actions, that integrity still exists somewhere between silence and survival.

We may not be able to undo the harm they have witnessed, but we can choose not to deepen it.
We can teach with moral courage.
We can speak with gentleness and understanding.
We can model what it means to be human in a world that keeps forgetting — because our children are watching, and one day, they will rise to rebuild what our silence allowed to crumble.

 

Related:

– Real Time Scholasticide: The War On Education In Gaza

– Ice Cream: A Poem On The Loss Of Childhood In Gaza

The post The Pedagogy Of Silence: What Muslim Children Are Learning About Truth appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Sean Middlebrough says he and fellow Palestine Action activists were “kidnapped” by British counter-terrorism police at the point of a gun.

Worshippers prepare to start using first completed building and hope to host formal opening in early 2026

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On a bush block on the industrial outskirts of Bendigo, a minaret rises from the facade of a mosque. There are no fences, making the site of the central Victorian city’s first mosque visible from adjacent roads.

This is no accident. Sameer Syed, who has been involved in the Bendigo Islamic Community Centre’s inception from its start, says the vision was an “open mosque”.

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New York City mayor-elect refused to ‘be in the shadows’ in the face of Islamophobic attacks during his campaign

Across the country, Donald Trump’s crackdown on immigrants has shaken neighbourhoods, torn apart families and engendered a sense of panic among communities. But in New York, on Tuesday night, Zohran Mamdani, the first Muslim mayor of New York, and an immigrant from Uganda, chose to underline his identity. “New York will remain a city of immigrants: a city built by immigrants, powered by immigrants and, as of tonight, led by an immigrant,” he told an ecstatic crowd at Paramount theater in Brooklyn.

The son of a Muslim father and a Hindu mother, he was born in Kampala, raised in New York, and identifies as a democratic socialist. Almost every aspect of Mamdani’s identity had been an issue of contention during the election. Earlier this week, the Center for Study of Organized Hate published a report highlighting the surge in Islamophobic comments online between July and October, most of which labelled Mamdani as an extremist or terrorist.

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My daughters are obsessed (my son is unimpressed).

 If you are a parent of elementary school girls, you have most likely witnessed the social contagion that is K-Pop Demon Hunters. And while the name of the movie alone earned an automatic “no” the first few times my daughters begged me to let them watch it, I finally gave in. But, I made sure to sit and watch it with them—ready to pull the plug the second anything age-inappropriate popped up.

Yet, to my surprise, not only was I quickly pulled into the story but, by the end of it, I was an enthusiastic advocate of the movie. What excited me the most was that I realized the movie was full of themes that could easily be related to elements of the Islamic spiritual path, and that, in fact, I could use the film to teach my daughters about the greater jihad—the battle against one’s own self. So, here I will elaborate on some of the spiritual themes of K-pop Demon Hunters that you can bring up with your kids as they sing and play the songs on repeat.

First, a few important disclaimers:

One, this article contains a lot of spoilers. So don’t read it if you haven’t seen it–unless of course, you don’t mind.

Two, while the movie contains some Islamic themes, there are a few elements that some Muslim parents might find objectionable. One, of course, is that the movie revolves around pop-singers—so there is a lot of music throughout. Additionally, the characters at times wear clothing that would be considered immodest by Islamic standards. And there are a few parts where the characters develop crushes and romantic feelings toward other characters. If these are deal breakers, I would say just don’t watch the movie. Or at the very least, watch the movie ahead of time, make note of where those parts occur, and skip over them as needed.

However, if you are willing to overlook these elements, there are some great connections to make to the Muslim path.

Of Shayateen and Nafs al Ammara

First, let’s frame the basic story. In the world of the film, demons have always haunted the world, stealing souls and channeling them back to their king, Gwi-Ma. The trio that is Huntrix belongs to an ancient lineage of demon hunters who, along with being warriors, use songs of hope and courage that ignite their people’s souls,  bring them together, and create a shield that protects the world from darkness, the Honmoon.

Obviously, the idea of a demonic realm is easy enough to connect with the Islamic worldview. The world is full of shayateen who lay in wait, using every opportunity available to lead us astray from Allah’s path. Gwi-Ma represents Iblis, while his demon army symbolizes the many human and jinn shayateen who work to lead us astray. It is tradition that protects us from this. Our tradition also strives to preserve lineage–the various Islamic sciences and the various Sufi Tariqas that are protected by chains of transmission that lead all the way back to the Prophet Muhammad . We also use sacred sound to sanctify the world around us. Whether through recitation of the Quran or through dhikr, we employ our vocal chords to bring noor into the world. The angels hear our adhkar and fill the ether around us and expel the satanic forces of Iblis’s army.

Then there’s Rumi (whose Korean name means “sparkling beauty,” but is conveniently a homonym of the most famous Sufi poet in the world). As the Honmoon seems close to being sealed up for good, Rumi rushes to release Huntrix’s greatest single, “Golden.” The song is a celebration of arriving at self-realization with the refrain, “I’m done hiding. Now I’m shining like I’m born to be.” And yet it is on this line that Rumi’s voice strains. You see, Rumi has a secret: she is half-demon. She struggles to hide her demon patterns. Hoping that she can conceal them just long enough to seal the Honmoon for good, which will then rid her of the patterns.

We see a parallel to this in the Islamic concept of the Nafs al Ammara, the darkest—and most illusory—aspects of ourselves. This, our appetitive soul, manifests as patterns of behavior in our day-to-day—tendencies toward selfishness, arrogance, and avarice.

Self-Appraisal and the Case Against Extremism

Then enter the Saja Boys–a group of demons disguised as a boy band that threatens to steal Huntrix’s fans so that their souls can be given to Gwi-Ma. In other words, the lesser jihad against the legions of shayateen wages on in the world around us. It is an “externalization of the destitution of the inner state of the soul of that of humanity,”1, which manifests in the global atrocities and ecological crises we witness daily. Even as we face our own internal issues.

In fact, this even gives rise to new issues as the girls become infatuated with them—each lusting after a boy that meets their particular taste—and they lash out with their own form of religious extremism. The “Take Down” track they compose as a response is a representation of religious fanaticism—denouncing the demons, vowing to kill them all off, claiming there is no potential salvation for any of them. It is a counter-example to the Prophet Muhammad’s warning, “Beware of extremism in religion. Those who came before you were ruined by extremism in religion.”

In secret, Rumi is meeting with Jinu, the head Saja Boy, developing some empathy for the demon, and seeing herself in his story. She begins to see that underneath, he is not as bad as the mistakes he has made.  In this, Rumi is starting to come to terms with her own demonic aspects. She can empathize with Jinu. In this way, he becomes a sort of mirror for her ( an analogy often applied for companions on the spiritual path—that we help each other to our own faults). Then, at her bottom, after Jinu double-crosses her and exposes her to her bandmates, Rumi decides that if she is going to save the world, it has to begin with recognizing her demonic patterns, not hiding them and pretending they don’t exist, and harmonizing these two aspects of herself. This could be likened to the nafs al-lawwama—self-accusing soul, with its characteristics of disapproval, reflection, contraction, and self-appraisal. It denotes the active conscience stricken by guilt and self-reproach whenever God’s commands are violated and the lower self wins a skirmish with the rational mind.

Idol Worship and Spiritual Warfare

Rumi’s spiritual journey culminates at the Saja Boys’ final concert. They open their set with the song, “I’ll be your idol,” a song that, with lyrics like, “keeping you obsessed…I can be your sanctuary” and “I can be the star you rely on…Your obsession feeds our connection…give me all of your attention,” could not be a better fit with Islamic admonitions of idol worship—both external idols and the inner idols of our own desires, and the ways obsession with pop culture can take the place of an idol in our lives.

When Rumi arrives to sing her final song, she is only able to sing a song strong enough to defeat the dark forces of the world when she acknowledges her own demonic patterns, her nafs ammara, and harmonizes them with the higher aspects of herself—the purity of her fitra. And yet, in acknowledging them, she is able to keep them from taking her over. In this, she has achieved the nafs al mutma’ina, the satisfied soul.

In the Islamic tradition, spiritual mastery is not achieved by eliminating the nafs al ammara, but rather by surrendering it to the higher self. In other words, the nafs al mutama’ina is one that can direct its nafs ammara towards actions that serve it in the spiritual warfare against the demonic aspects of the dunya—our worldly life. For one whose soul is at peace, the lower aspects are still there but are in perfect balance.

Rumi uses her balanced soul to break the demons’ hold on their fans and to defeat Gwi-Ma’s army for good.

Navigating Pop Culture Through An Islamic Lens

In the end, this is just a movie. It is for entertainment and, of course, is no substitute for the formal study of the deen. At the same time, as Muslim parents, we are constantly trying to help our children navigate their relationship with pop culture. Our kids are constantly being introduced to new creative media through their friends (yes, even in Islamic schools), through billboards, commercials, and elsewhere. And while we often respond by trying to control what they come in contact with, it often feels like a lost cause–things just slip through. This doesn’t mean we have to adopt an “anything goes” approach, but perhaps we can also find opportunities to connect the morals and lessons conveyed through the entertainment we consume to our own Islamic values. In doing so, we can model for our kids how to consume entertainment while maintaining taqwa.

For example, with K-Pop Demon Hunters, when we sit down and watch it with them, we can vocalize the elements that are at odds with our value system (for example commenting, “I wish this character was wearing more modest clothing,” or, “Uh oh, I don’t think it’s appropriate for her to go and meet a boy on her own.”) However, we can also tap into their enthusiasm and make connections to our religious values (for example, “Wow, that really teaches us that idols aren’t always just statues, but can be anything we devote all our attention to and rely on.”) 

In this way, we can teach our kids how to engage with entertainment with the tools to discern which messages resonate with Islamic values and which ones don’t, whether or not we are there to shield them from it. 

 In a world flooded with sound and spectacle, that kind of vision is the real superpower. 

 

Related:

– Don’t Look Up – A Faith-Centred Parable Of Our Times

– Muslim Kids Reading Fantasy Novels – Yea Or Nay?

1    Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Man and Nature: the Spiritual Crisis of Modern Man (Boston: Unwin Paperbacks, 1990), 3.

The post Until The Dark Meets The Light: A Muslim Interpretation Of K-Pop Demon Hunters appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Unlike obligatory actions which must be carried out at specific times or particular situations — outward acts such as the five daily prayers in their allotted times and Ramadan fasts; or inward acts of the heart like patience amidst trials or ordeals or remorseful repentance after sinning — there is no one-hat-fits-all-sizes for optional acts.

There is no one optional act that is the best in all situations, or for all people. Rather, as Ibn Taymiyyah wrote: “As to what you asked about concerning the best of acts after the obligations, this varies in accordance with people’s differing abilities and what is suitable for their time. Therefore, it is not possible to furnish a comprehensive, detailed answer for each individual.”1

This implies that we must each gain the spiritual intelligence to appreciate what deeds are of most benefit for us to do, given our abilities or particular circumstances. In other words, after fulfilling the fara’id and shunning the haram, our suluk should be tailored to our own specific strengths and abilities in respect to the best way to draw close to Allah and grow beloved to Him.

The path, in this sense, is a vast landscape, accommodating our individual needs or nature. We can, of course, try to self-diagnose. Or we can be wise and be prudent, and seek counsel from spiritually-rooted shaykhs and shaykhas of suluk. It’s about travelling intelligently.

II.

When it comes to optional acts of worship, we should focus on the acts we have the capacity for, are likely to be regular at, can perform well, and will best sharpen our sense of God-consciousness. This is the way to deepen faith and divine love. As for other optional acts, we try to have some share of them too, but not at the expense of ones that Allah has gifted us clear openings for.

Ibn Mas‘ud replied, when he was asked why he did not fast optional fasts more frequently: ‘When I fast, it weakens my capacity to recite the Qur’an; for reciting the Qur’an is more beloved to me than fasting.’2

III.

Not to belabour the point of spiritual intelligence, Imam Ibn Taymiyyah was asked about how faith can be increased and perfected, and if one must take to asceticism (zuhd) or to knowledge to attain this? His reply is insightful; he said:

‘People differ in this aspect. From them are those who find knowledge easier than asceticism. For some, asceticism is easier. Yet for others, worship is easier than both. So what is legislated for each person is to do what they are capable of from the good; as Allah, exalted is He, says:

“So fear Allah as much as you are able and listen and obey and spend [in the way of Allah ]; it is better for yourselves. And whoever is protected from the stinginess of his soul – it is those who will be the successful.” [Surah At-Taghabun; 64:16]

…It may be that a person does a deed of lesser merit and acquires more from it than from doing a deed of superior merit. So what is better is that he seeks what will benefit him more. That, for him, is best. He must not seek to do that which is most meritorious in an absolute sense if he is incapable, or if he finds it hard. Just like someone who reads the Qur’an, meditates over it, and benefits from its recitation, yet finds [optional] prayer difficult and does not benefit from it. Or he benefits from making dhikr more than he benefits from reciting the Qur’an. So whatever action is more beneficial and more pleasing to Allah is the best for him, than an act he cannot do properly but only deficiently and so loses out on the benefit.’3

Of course, if we are not careful, all of this critical consideration can be hijacked by the ego, so that we are deluded into false judgments about what is spiritually best for us. The ego must be removed from the driver’s seat. So while past scholars are still indispensable for learning spiritual guidance, there’s nothing like living shaykhs who are able to impart actualised, qualified tazkiyah instruction to seekers in these delirious times.

[This article was first published here]

 

Related:

– IOK Ramadan 2025: Good Deeds Erase Bad Deeds | Shaykha Ayesha Hussain

–The Forgotten Sunnahs: Ihsan, Itqaan, And Self-Reliance

1    Majmu‘ al-Fatawa (Riyadh: Dar ‘Alam al-Kutub, 1991, 10:660.2    Al-Tabarani, al-Mu‘jam al-Kabir, no.8868; Ibn Abi Shaybah, al-Musannaf, no.8909.3    Majmu‘ al-Fatawa, 7:651-2

The post Fard, Check. What Next? : The Best Deed After the Obligations appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Israeli army, settlers carry out nearly 2,400 attacks in occupied West Bank in October.

Between July and October, 25 buildings were targeted in 27 attacks, according to British Muslim Trust

• UK politics live – latest updates

Attacks on mosques in the UK have soared in recent months, the government’s Islamophobia monitoring partner has said, with more than 40% of incidents featuring British or English flags and Christian nationalist symbols or slogans.

In the past three months, a mosque was set alight in East Sussex; in Merseyside the windows of a mosque were shot with an air gun while children were inside; in Greater Manchester, a paving slab was thrown at a window; and in Glasgow, a window was smashed with a metal pole.

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The racist abuse that Zohran Mamdani is still facing proves how normalized bigotry is. We need to keep calling it out

Pack your bags and flee, infidels: New York City has fallen to a cabal of socialist jihadists. With Zohran Mamdani to become the city’s first Muslim mayor, many are celebrating the democratic socialist’s historic win. Billionaires, Islamophobes and Republicans, however, are in the throes of hysteria. But what’s new? The New York mayoral race has been marred by bigotry so unhinged it’s almost impossible to parody.

Far-right activist and unofficial Trump adviser Laura Loomer posted on X, for example, that “there will be another 9/11 in NYC” under Mamdani. New York City councilmember Vickie Paladino called the 34-year-old a “known jihadist terrorist”. Actor Debra Messing, meanwhile, has been having a Mamdani-induced meltdown on Instagram, posting story after story about how the puppy-eyed politician is a threat to civilization. She recently posted: “In Judaism and Christianity, we are commanded to speak the truth. In Islam, they are commanded to lie if it means spreading Islam … Now, take a look at Mamdani … He’s revealing their goal: mass conversion.”

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Total referrals reach record high, with 21% being due to ‘extreme rightwing concerns’ and 10% to Islamist ideology

More suspected far-right extremists were referred to the government’s anti-terrorism programme Prevent last year than those suspected of Islamist extremism, annual figures show.

In total, 8,778 referrals were made because of suspicions of extremist radicalisation in the year to March 2025, 27% more than the previous year and the highest number of referrals in a single year since records began 10 years ago.

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The ceasefire agreement simply means that Israel is able to do whatever it wants.

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Dublin’s defense of Palestinian rights rings hollow.

The news of my pregnancy was a shock, but I have come to see it as a blessing.

Gaza teachers face unthinkable scenarios when their students are injured in Israeli attacks and suffer from famine.

Genocide survivor Eman Alhaj Ali says Palestinians want dignity, not pity. New footage of Yahya Sinwar during battle and more.

Menopause, often whispered about and seldom discussed, marks a significant transition in every woman’s life. In the UK, most women reach menopause between 45 and 55 (average around 51), though perimenopausal changes can begin earlier, often in the early to mid-40s, and some women experience it outside this range.

For Muslim women, this change can feel even more complex, entwined with cultural expectations, spiritual practices, and evolving family dynamics. While medical resources are rightly covered by our Muslim physician colleagues, this article explores the emotional and relational dimensions of peri- and post-menopause. It considers how these phases can shape marriage, parenting, and identity, and how Muslim women can navigate them with faith, support, and grace.

Understanding the Emotional Landscape

Menopause is not only a biological milestone. It is also an emotional terrain shifting under your feet. Hormonal fluctuations may bring:

• Mood swings and irritability. Sudden changes in serotonin levels can lead to emotional volatility.
• Anxiety or low-grade depression. Anxiety may arise from changes in the body or identity. Some women experience a quieter, deep sadness as menopause approaches.
• A sense of loss or dislocation. Fertility and youth are tied deeply to self-image and societal roles. The loss of natural cycles can stir grief or existential questions.
• Relief or liberation. No longer facing menstrual cycles or contraception concerns, some women describe a freeing sense of autonomy.

From an Islamic perspective, recognizing these emotions as valid, even while striving to maintain patience, can be healing. The Prophet ﷺ said:

“No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress befalls a Muslim, even if it were the prick he receives from a thorn, but that Allah expiates some of his sins for that.” [Bukhari and Muslim]

Women may also draw comfort from the lives of those closest to the Prophet ﷺ. Sayyidah Khadījah , for example, was a mature woman whose wisdom and dignity were deeply honored. The Prophet ﷺ remembered her long after her passing, saying:

“She believed in me when the people disbelieved, she trusted me when the people belied me, she shared her wealth with me when the people deprived me, and Allah blessed me with children from her and not from any other wife.” [Musnad Ahmad]

Her life demonstrates that maturity is not a loss but a stage marked by depth, contribution, and honor in the sight of Allah and His Messenger ﷺ.

Impact on the Marital Relationship

Menopause can subtly or dramatically shift the marital dynamic. The following highlights some of the how:

Intimacy and Libido

Changing oestrogen levels may decrease vaginal lubrication and arousal. For some, libido diminishes. This can cause:

• Discomfort or pain during intercourse, leading to avoidance or withdrawal.
• Hurt feelings, if either spouse misinterprets distance as rejection.
• Renewed opportunities, if couples communicate openly and explore alternative forms of closeness, such as affection, cuddling, conversation, and supportive touch.

The Prophet ﷺ reminded husbands and wives of their responsibility to one another:

“The best of you are those who are best to their wives, and I am the best of you to my wives.” [Tirmidhi]

This ḥadīth points to compassion and attentiveness as the norm for marital life. Together with the Qur’ānic ethic “live with them in kindness” [Surah An-Nisa; 4:19] and “you are garments for one another” [Surah Al-Baqarah; 2:187], it frames intimacy as a place for mercy, not pressure. In practice, couples can:

Menopause can subtly or dramatically shift the marital dynamic.[PC: David Dvořáček (unsplash)]

• Talk early and kindly. Use “I” statements about sensations and emotions (“I feel soreness / I’m worried I’ll disappoint you”) and agree on a shared plan for closeness during this phase.
• Prioritise consent and avoid harm (lā ḍarar wa lā ḍirār). If penetration is painful, pause. Explore solutions rather than pushing through pain.
• Broaden the meaning of intimacy. Affectionate touch, cuddling, massage, shared baths, and non-penetrative pleasure can maintain connection when penetration is difficult. Many couples also benefit from longer warm-up/foreplay, comfortable positions, adequate privacy and time, and lubricants (checking ingredients if that matters to you).
• Time it wisely. Choose symptom-lighter times of day; fatigue, hot flushes, or joint pain often fluctuate.
• Address the physical. A clinical check-in for urogenital symptoms, pelvic floor physio, sleep support, or treatment for dryness can make intimacy easier, and caring for health supports marital rights.
• Hold the fiqh balance. Spousal intimacy is important in fiqh, yet scholars also emphasize kindness, mutual satisfaction, and the prohibition of harm. Temporary adjustments or even pauses are recognised where there is credible hardship or illness, especially by mutual agreement. Rights are not a licence to coerce; they are a call to iḥsān (beautiful conduct).
• Reassure and repair. If an attempt is difficult, offer comfort, make duʿāʾ together, and try again another time rather than letting shame or resentment grow.
• Seek wise support. A faith-literate counsellor can help couples negotiate expectations, communication, and practical adaptations.

Menopause aware intimacy honors both fiqh’s regard for spousal rights and the Prophetic standard of gentleness, protecting wellbeing while keeping connection alive.

Role Shifts

Menopause may coincide with children entering adulthood, career changes, or a newfound quiet in the household. This may lead to a re-evaluation of marital roles. Some women flourish with more time for personal projects, worship, or deepening the spousal bond. Others feel unmoored without the familiar structure of motherhood. Husbands and wives benefit from acknowledging this inward journey and renegotiating roles with love and respect, guided by the Prophetic ideal of mutual support and kindness.

Parenting Through the Transition

For many Muslim women, parenting is a core identity. As menopause unfolds, children may be grown or nearing independence. This stage can feel like:

• Empty nest syndrome, an ache for purpose or belonging.
• Emotional tug as the mother, wanting to remain central in children’s lives while they claim their own time, space, boundaries, and identity, choosing how they live, what they believe, where they make home, whom they befriend or marry, and how they prioritize work, faith, and family.
• Opportunity for mentorship, duʿā, and building deeper, more balanced relationships, based on guidance rather than caretaking: checking in regularly without hovering, asking permission before offering advice, listening more than directing, making duʿāʾ by name for their needs, sharing skills or experience when invited, celebrating their independent decisions, agreeing healthy boundaries and rhythms of contact, and being available for practical help when requested.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“When a person dies, all his deeds come to an end except three: ongoing charity, beneficial knowledge, or a righteous child who prays for him.” [Muslim]

As the family evolves, women may take comfort that their nurturing role continues through du‘a and guidance, even when the daily intensity of parenting diminishes. The Qur’ān also reminds us of the honour due to mothers:

“And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.” [Surah Luqman; 31:14]

Community, Sisterhood, and Spiritual Identity

Menopause can feel like an invisible transition, often silent and rarely acknowledged within many Muslim communities. Yet opening dialogue can be transformative:

Menopause can feel like an invisible transition, but having peer support circles can help overcome isolation. [PC: Vonecia Carswell (unsplash)]

• Peer support circles, whether informal or virtual, allow sharing experiences of sleep troubles, mood changes, gratitude for newfound calm, and laughter about hot flushes.
• Imams or women’s counsellors knowledgeable in fiqh and women’s health can foster safe spaces to ask, “Is it permissible to pray when I am drenched in sweat? How do I manage fasting with hot flushes at suhoor?”
• Spiritual leadership repurposes this life stage. Older women can shape younger generations with wisdom, du‘a, and steadiness.

The Qur’ān itself honors the voice and concerns of women. When Khawlah bint Tha‘labah brought her distress to the Prophet ﷺ about her husband, Allah revealed:

“Indeed Allah has heard the statement of she who argues with you [O Muhammad] concerning her husband and directs her complaint to Allah. And Allah hears your dialogue; indeed, Allah is Hearing and Seeing.” [Surah Al-Mujādilah; 58:1]

This verse is a powerful reminder that women’s lived realities matter deeply in the sight of Allah .

The Prophet ﷺ also said:

“The best among you are those who learn the Qur’ān and teach it.” [Bukhari]

This opens the door for mature women to embrace teaching, mentoring, and guiding, drawing on their life experience to benefit the next generation.

Practical Strategies for Muslim Women

Here are some tangible ways to navigate this stage with resilience:

1. Educate yourself. Learn about symptoms, treatments, and self-care strategies, including diet, hydration, exercise, and sleep hygiene.
2. Open dialogue with your spouse. Frame conversations around feelings, not blame. Small shifts in communication can yield deep compassion.
3. Connect with sisterhood. Sharing breaks isolation.
4. Prioritize self-care and spiritual rhythm. Ensure you can observe prayer comfortably, even through sleepless nights. Some women turn insomnia into time for tahajjud, drawing strength from night worship. The Prophet ﷺ said: “The most beloved prayer to Allah after the obligatory prayers is the night prayer.” [Muslim]
5. Seek Islamic-medical guidance. Engage professionals who understand both health and faith. There are a number of Muslimah womb health and/or perimenopause experts and advocates online, such as Honored Womb, Fit Muslimah, and Barakah’s Womb.
6. Reimagine purpose. Let menopause be the prologue to new journeys such as mentoring, studying Qur’ān, or serving the community.

When to Seek Help

While mood changes and emotional shifts are normal, professional help is important if you experience:

• Persistent sadness or hopelessness that doesn’t lift.
• Severe anxiety, panic attacks, or escalating worry.
• Rage flashes – sudden, intense anger or outbursts that feel out of control, lead to verbal or physical aggression, or create fear/ongoing harm at home.
• Relationship breakdowns that feel stuck or irresolvable.
• Physical symptoms (e.g., sleep disturbance, pain, hot flushes) that significantly impact daily life.

Seeking help, whether medical or therapeutic, is not a deviation from tawakkul (trust in Allah ). It is a sign of wisdom and self-compassion.

Menopause is more than biological. It is a spiritual, relational, and emotional terrain that beckons Muslim women toward new chapters. It may stir grief or liberation, distance or newfound intimacy. It challenges identity and nurtures wisdom.

Within a faith that honors the dignity of every phase, menopause becomes an opportunity. By drawing on sisterhood, honest dialogue, renewal practices, spirituality, and faith-affirmed support, Muslim women can move through this shift with grace, finding in themselves new light, new connection, and renewed purpose.

 

Related:

– Purification Of The Self: A Journey That Begins From The Outside-In

– The Fiqh Of Vaginal Discharge: Pure or Impure?

The post The Muslim Woman And Menopause: Navigating The ‘Invisible’ Transition With Faith And Grace appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

On a cold Fresno night, Deek’s search for purpose draws him to the river’s dark pull—and to the brink of his own redemption.

Previous Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13| Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27

* * *

“When the mother is safe, the family is safe, the community is safe, the world is safe. She is the sun from which warmth and love radiate. If she shines, her family blooms.” – Deek Saghir

Shark Alone

Deek woke up shivering, lying atop the covers in the sprawling hotel bed. The room was dark, with no light but the pale illumination of the night time city coming through the window. The window was open, and the curtains billowed as a cold breeze gusted in.

He checked his watch: it was only an hour past sunset. Alhamdulillah, he could still catch Maghreb. He closed the window, made wudu’, pulled on a pair of jeans and a brown leather jacket, and prayed.

After salat he sat cross-legged on the musalla, not knowing what to do. He had nowhere to go, no place to be, nothing to do, no one to be. It was said that a shark must keep swimming, or he would die. But why would he die? Could a shark drown in the sea? Or did he die of loneliness, weary of decades criss-crossing the oceans alone, killing to survive, wearing the scars of battle upon his scaly hide?

It was a mistake to think that sharks were evil. Allah created all things with a purpose. The shark had a purpose, and so too did Deek have a purpose, though he no longer knew what it was. He had no family to look after. He had no fortune to yearn for, since he’d achieved that and didn’t know what to do with it. He had no cryptos to manage, for he was out of that market.

He tapped the marble floor with a fingernail, then drummed on it with both hands, making a slapping sound against the hard surface.

He didn’t want to return to that local gym. They treated him like a long-lost relative who needed their support and kindness. It was embarrassing.

He was an Arab who’d grown up along the banks of a river, so in a way he was a creature of both sand and water, and found comfort in both. There was no sand around here, but there was water.

Foundation

A half hour later he stood upon the foundation of his unfinished, derelict house, the concrete cold beneath his boots. The wind came in long, sighing gusts from the west, fluttering the loose plastic sheeting that clung to rebar like ghosts. Somewhere nearby, an owl called once—long and low, like a warning or a question.

It was a bitter night. Fresno cold, dry and sharp. He zipped up his coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, but the wind still found him. It crept down his collar and hissed through the empty house, whispering through joists and overhangs, promising nothing, taking nothing, leaving only the sound of moving air.

Below, the San Joaquin River was a ribbon of blackness, moonlight sliding across its surface like oil. From this height, he couldn’t see the banks clearly, only hints of motion—ripples, eddies, things unseen—and that same deep magnetic pull that rivers always had for him. A kind of whisper in the blood.

Rivers had frightened him since childhood. Not the crashing kind like the ones you saw in movies, but the slow, heavy ones. The ones that moved with their own patient will. They reminded him of people who never said much, who never showed emotion, who just kept going until one day they swallowed you whole.

Yet he couldn’t look away.

Somewhere, Rania might be praying. Or maybe reading in bed, a cold compress on her aching back. Sanaya and Amira might be curled together on the sofa, watching a movie they’d seen five times already. Lubna, probably up late studying teacher resumes, a mug of tea gone cold on her desk. Marco—who knew? Walking somewhere, talking to himself, fighting off the shadows only he could see.

And Deek was here. On a concrete slab in the dark.

Everything he’d done had been for his family. This new house wasn’t supposed to be his home, it was supposed to be the family home. A legacy they could grow into. A multi-generational property, a home to the Saghir family for a hundred years to come or more, though Deek was not accustomed to thinking in such terms.

He took his phone out and called Sanaya. He had no expectation that she would answer, yet she did, dully.

“Dad?”

“I bought a new house for the family. For all of us.”

“I don’t think Mom will want that.”

“Will you come see it?”

“What, now?”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a long pause. Finally Sanaya said, “Text me the address.”

Spooky

Driving up a winding road into the low hills north of Fresno, Sanaya checked the GPS repeatedly. It was dark outside, but the full moon provided a pale illumination that outlined the surrounding hills and mesas.

Amara chewed on a fingernail. “He bought a house out here? Where even are we?”

“Above the river somewhere. Fresno County. Remember, don’t say anything about Mom. She doesn’t want us to.” Mom had not been to work in three days. Her back still hurt, and she’d fallen into deep depression, barely rousing herself to eat. Sanaya had confiscated her pain pills, and now Mom wouldn’t talk to her.

“Whatever.” Amara spit a fingernail fragment onto the car floor.

“Don’t do that, it’s gross.”

“Ask if I care.”

Sanaya sighed. Amira had been constantly sullen and withdrawn lately. She was very attached to Dad, and had taken his absence hard. Sanaya didn’t know what was going to happen, how things would work out, but she herself felt weary. Her life had flipped. Those who were supposed to care for her had turned their faces away, and now she found herself caring for them. She’d become her depressed mother’s caretaker and her moody sister’s parent. Between that, work and school, she was exhausted.

Her nostrils flared with anger as she thought about it. But it didn’t matter. Bring it on. She could handle it, along with whatever other test this dunya gave her. Amara might be closer to Dad, but she was a lot more like Mom than she would ever admit.

Sanaya, on the other hand, knew in her heart that she’d been created from Dad’s mold. She carried his strength and determination, for he was a man who set his vision on a goal and never gave up, no matter what.

* * *

Deek watched as Rania’s brown mini-SUV came up the road, crunched along the gravel driveway, came to a stop, and disgorged Sanaya and Amira. He grinned with pleasure. He hadn’t been sure Sanaya would come, nor that Amira would come too.

The two of them approached to about ten feet and stopped, looking around, surveying the property. Sanaya wore only slacks, a light sweater and a hijab, and stood shivering in the frigid wind. Amira stood with her arms tightly crossed, biting a fingernail.

Deek walked to his daughters, took off his jacket and put it around Sanaya’s shoulders. Then he spread his arms out wide. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful up here,” Sanaya said, slipping her arms into the jacket sleeves. “But that’s not a house.”

Deek laughed. “Not yet. A year from now, inshaAllah, it will be a six bedroom, three bath house with a pool, hot tub, tennis court, you name it. Give me your wish list and we’ll build it. And we have fifty acres of land up here. Fifty acres! We could have horses.”

“It’s too far from school and work. I couldn’t live up here.”

“Come on Sanaya, don’t be like that. Give it a chance.” He looked to his younger daughter, who had not yet spoken a word. In the past she would have come to him and hugged him, and spoken up in defense of his choices.

Amara spat out a bit of fingernail. “It’s spooky. And I think you’re living in a dream world.” She turned and walked back to the car, kicking a rock out of her way.

Deek’s heart sank into his stomach. “Why did you come then, if all you want to do is put down what I’m doing?”

A Beautiful Thing

Sanaya gazed at him levelly. “Because Maryam Rana called me. She told me what you did. She’s been accepted into a treatment program at the Mayo Clinic. You did a beautiful thing, Baba. You saved her life.”

A rush of emotion threatened to flood Deek’s eyes with tears. Sanaya had not called him Baba in many years. At some point she’d switched over to the less personal “Dad,” and he had let it go, because you had to let young people be who they were.

“Alhamdulillah,” he murmured. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“It means a lot to me. She told me that you paid off hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of medical bills. And the fact that no one in the community knows, that you didn’t make a thing out of it. It says a lot about you.”

Deek shrugged, embarrassed. “She talked about you. Called you whip-smart. She’s a sweet girl. I would do the same for you, your sister or your mother. I would do anything in my power to help you.”

“Are you sure about that? They say that charity starts at home, but sadaqah is not just money, you know. You told me something, once. You said that if anything ever happened to you, that I should take care of Mom, because she’s the sun from which warmth and love radiate. When she shines, our family blooms. And you said that mothers are the world’s heart, that when they are safe, the family is safe, the community is safe, the nation is safe, and the world is safe.”

“I said that?”

“Yes. Now I’m going home. It’s freezing up here. Aren’t you going back to the hotel?”

“In a while. I want to explore a little.”

Sanaya shook her head. “You’re crazy, Baba. And I’m keeping the jacket.” She turned and walked away.

Dark River

When the sound of the car had faded, Deek walked around until he found the path that led down to the river. Without making any conscious decision, he began walking downhill to the river. Unlike that last river visit, this time it would be dark. This thought slowed his feet, but he felt the river’s deep, beautiful waters calling to him. The river was pure and clean, and yes, ruthless as well. It was beneficent, yet would snatch the life away from any fool who approached it with less than utmost caution.

He had no plan or goal beyond a vague notion that the river could cure his angry emptiness.

The surface of the water was a black mirror that displayed a rippled reflection of the moon above. At the river bank, he rolled up his pant legs and climbed carefully down to the water’s edge. He put his wallet and keys beside a large rock, but kept his phone, putting it on flashlight mode. Still wearing his shoes, he waded into the frigid, black water.

The phone’s light seemed to shy away from the extreme darkness of the water, and served only to remind Deek of how untamed and merciless this river could be. The current was fast; rocks shifted beneath his feet; eddies rippled and splashed. Reeds danced in the night breeze.

He stayed in the shallows, the water just at his lower shins, yet even here the water cut into his legs with a ferocity that made him hiss through his teeth. It was Sierra Nevada snowmelt, as icy sharp as knives.

Rather than tranquility or clarity, Deek found himself filled with rage. Everything he’d done and accomplished had turned out to be useless. Well, if no one needed him, then he didn’t need them either.

A small boulder, about the size of a toaster, stuck up out of the water. Deek bent, wrestled it out of the mud, cocked an arm, and with a shout, heaved it out toward the center of the river, where it landed with an unseen splash.

He found another, bigger rock. This one came up easily, but was heavy. With a grunt he brought it up to his shoulders, then, using both hands, shot-putted it into the air, screaming as loudly as he could. The wind snatched away his scream as the boulder splashed down nearby, wetting him.

Going Back

Driving downhill a short distance away, Sanaya pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped.

“Did you hear something?”

“I thought the river looked awesome in the moonlight,” Amira remarked. “And it would be totes cool to have horses. But I didn’t want to tell him that. Why are we stopping?”

Sanaya craned her neck, peering into the darkness behind them. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to leave him alone.”

“Baba can take care of himself. He’s strong.”

“We should go back.”

Amira rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

Sanaya gunned the engine and cut the wheel, whipping the car in a 180 and causing the back wheels to fishtail. She hit the accelerator and the car leaped forward.

“What are you doing?” Amira gasped.

“Something’s wrong.” She sped up the mountain road, hugging the curves. This was not like her. Mom and Amira were the ones with second sense, not her. Yet she pushed the pedal and went faster, barely staying on the road.

Man Against Nature

Deek took another step deeper into the river, then another, until he was in up to his knees. His feet had gone numb from the cold. He spread his arms for balance and closed his eyes.

This was dangerous, he knew. The river was deep in the middle, and the bottom could drop out at any point. People drowned in the San Joaquin and Kings rivers all the time. If he slipped and fell, no one would know until his body turned up somewhere downriver.

He stood for a few minutes, braced against the flow, letting the icy water wash him clean.

“La ilaha il-Allah,” he breathed. “Muhammadur-Rasulullah.”

For reasons he could not articulate, he stepped in further, closer to the deep center. The water was up to his waist now. It was a stupid thing to do, but also thrilling. If he could defy this mighty river, or perhaps harmonize with it, he could do anything. It was a real thing, a real accomplishment that he could take pride in. Man against nature, wasn’t that the oldest and most primal struggle of all.

Or was the original struggle man against Shaytan? Confusion swirled through his mind. He lifted a foot to return to the shore, but a strong current lifted him and he lost his balance. The excitement vanished as panic flooded his mind. He waved his arms and took two quick steps, recovering his balance. The phone was gone.

Desperate, he lunged toward the shallows and slipped, falling completely into the water. He felt himself being pulled along the bottom. His head began to ring from the shock of the freezing current. He hardly knew up from down. Reaching blindly with his hands, he grasped a clump of reeds growing in the shallows. He seized them and used them to hold his position as his knees found the river bottom and his head broke the surface. He gasped desperately, sucking in air.

He was on hands and knees and the water was up to his neck. The current tugged at him hard, trying to drag him under again. It was a living thing that had tasted him and savored his fear, and would not release him until it consumed him. Deek was overwhelmed with terror, not of death but of the river itself. His mind froze, and he remained stuck in place, holding onto the clump of weeds like a lifeline. He didn’t have the energy to rise to his feet. The cold was in his bones now. He yearned for sun and warmth.

He remembered what Sanaya had said: Mothers are the sun from which warmth and love radiate. He needed Rania. He understood now how foolish and stubborn he had been. It was time to put all ego, resentment and pettiness aside, and go home to his wife. He gathered his strength and tried to rise, but he was weak, and the river snatched him away, dragging him toward the center, where the water was deep, lightless and unforgiving.

In The River

Sanaya circled the hulking shell of a house, peering into every shadow, while Amira ran to check the caretaker’s house.

“He’s not there,” Amira reported when she returned. “Maybe he took an Uber back to town.”

“That makes no sense. His car is here. Plus, no one passed us on the road.”

“Maybe he -”

Sanaya cut her off. “Stop talking and just listen.” She knew that Mom had an extrasensory gift of some kind, and it had been passed to Amira, but not to her. This did not bother her. Every child inherited something different from their parents, and all was a barakah. So she watched Amira intently as the girl turned slowly in a circle, eyes closed.

Amira’s eyes opened wide, and fear filled them like dark water. “He’s in the river.”

The hair stood on the back of Sanaya’s neck. “Let’s go!” The two of them began to run down the trail to the river below.

***

Come back next week for Part 29 inshaAllah

 

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

Related:

Asha and the Washerwoman’s Baby: A Short Story

The Deal : Part #1 The Run

 

The post Moonshot [Part 28] – Dark River appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Bombarded Palestinians in Gaza face hazards both visible and invisible.