By Anime Abdullah

Sep/Oct 2024

Did you hear about the seismic tremor of faith that shook the sands of Makkah as the tide of pilgrims across the world converged upon the Ka‘ba in June 2024? 

The scorching sun, exceeding 122°F (50°C) from June 14-19, was overshadowed by millions of Muslims thrumming in unison and demonstrating submission to God, humility, and unity — Islam’s true essence. The death of over 1,300 from heatstroke and dehydration, and the heat-related illnesses of thousands more (Aya Batrawy, www.npr.org, June 23) couldn’t deter them. The Saudi host’s inadequate accommodations, transportation, or even drinking water (Zahra Fatima and BBC World Service, www.bbc.com, June 22) couldn’t prevent them from responding to Islam’s call. Only a minuscule 8% received the needed care (Magdy Samaan, www.cnn.com, June 25), which confirms these pilgrims’ unwavering faith.

However, beneath their radiant display of peace were those who exploited them. Given that the pilgrims aren’t too vocal about such things, every year the unscrupulous prioritize profit over piety. This has gradually eroded the hajj’s sanctity, with creeping commercialization peaking this year, albeit ambivalently portrayed.

Unregistered Pilgrims: An Obvious Outcome of Nusuk Frustration 

Shirking responsibility, Saudi authorities sweepingly attributed 80% of the hajj fatalities to “unregistered” pilgrims (Vivian Nereim and Emad Mekay, New York Times, June 24), who didn’t register via the problematical Nusuk —  a centralized web platform (https://hajj.nusuk.sa/) launched in 2021 by the Saudi Ministry of Hajj and Umrah. 

However, Western pilgrims still had to handle visas, hotels, air tickets, and evident troubleshooting through Nusuk, all without human assistance. This tedious and overwhelming digital odyssey also increased prices (ranging from $13,000 to $20,000 per head), required deposits months in advance (even before packages were available), and provided no guarantee of completion. If this registration process fails at any step, even due to Nusuk’s fault, a 1.5% refund fee and a 45-day waiting period apply. Moreover, Nusuk’s proffered autonomy unintentionally hinders the hajj spirit — the connection forged through shared experiences.

These are merely the procedural problems of the current 11-step registration process; technical issues aside. Logins work only when the system wills. Picking a package is more like pulling teeth. Verification delays or e-wallet dilemmas are not user-friendly, and the payment option is an act of faith itself. The demands on time, tolerance, and tech-savviness, along with the paramount uncertainty, are enough to make a saint swear or, in this case, seek alternative routes.

Promising “alternative” streamlined processes, dozens of hajj agencies rushed to rescue this year’s pilgrims. They undercut the Nusuk prices, but dangled the carrot of tourist or business visas (legality? Shhh, don’t mention it!). 

Many of these agencies have provided affordable and reliable services for decades, and their promised convenience was very tempting. They guaranteed no pesky registration, verification woes, package or flight selection hassles, and, most importantly, no “pre-paying months in advance without any certainty” nonsense. Who wouldn’t jump at that oasis? 

Over 325,000 unregistered pilgrims were expelled (Adil Faouzi, www.moroccoworldnews.com, June 10), and other thousands, if not a million, pilgrims continued without registering with Nusuk. Many, including myself, succumbed to the illusion, not knowing those promises were a desert mirage shimmering with cool water. 

      The unresolved Nusuk issues and the substantial number of unregistered pilgrims underscore the prevalent frustration and escalating demand for reliable alternatives. The proliferation of alternative agencies, further misled by the insiders within the Hajj ministry, is a direct consequence that I witnessed firsthand.

Extent of Suffering and Uncertainty of Unregistered Pilgrims  

The anticipation of a trouble-free hajj quickly turned into a chilling fear of human trafficking as I was put on a backroad to Makkah and forced to cross the desert corridor on foot. Promises of a streamlined experience were replaced by constant anxiety and uncertainty. Many pilgrims couldn’t even make it to Makkah and returned home (Christian Peña, www.yahoo.com, July 1). 

Upon reaching Makkah, I clutched my Nusuk permit, the golden registration ticket. Unaware of its illegitimacy, I eagerly prepared for Mina. Lacking legitimate permission, my U.S.-based agency merged with a South Asian hajj group, whose tent was already overcrowded. So, we huddled outside under the blistering sun, desperately seeking the shade that wasn’t there. To my surprise, a security guard spotted me, informing me that my Nusuk permit was useless. Expelled from the tent, I wandered around Mina like a lost soul in a spiritual Disneyland.

Unfamiliar with Mina’s premises, I contacted my group leader. Bless his frantic heart, he offered dubious advice: avoid security, catch a bus in the middle of the night to Arafat, and pray for the best. Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, I did so, only to bounce among Arafah tents like a game of leapfrog with security. Exhausted, sunbaked, and barely coherent, I spent the Day of Arafat muttering supplications under the relentless, blazing sun. 

As we prepared to leave for Muzdalifah at sunset, there was no transportation. After waiting six hours — until 2:00 a.m. — we landed on a purgatory bus ride, praying for divine intervention to reach Muzdalifah in time for the maghrib and isha prayers. Nothing happened. We barely made it to fajr and offered make-up prayers for maghrib and isha. 

Already sleepless and drained for the past two days, we began the arduous trek to the Jamarat, a relentless 4-6 miles. Like a churning mass of humanity teetering on the edge of a stampede, the first round of stoning left me dehydrated, disheveled, and missing a sandal. 

Yet the ordeal wasn’t over. No transportation awaited, forcing another 3-4 mile trek back to Makkah on foot. Although several Nusuk service centers were visible from Muzdalifa or Mina to Jamarat, none were found from Jamarat to Makkah; not even drinking water. 

No official permit to return to Mina obliged me to find refuge in my hotel for the remaining stoning rituals. While Islam offers leniency in dire situations, my predicaments stemmed from the agency’s illegal acts, which fostered a false sense of security until the final minutes. 

These are just tidbits, and such realities don’t belittle the hajj’s sanctity. However, the humiliation, deception, and constant betrayal forced a touch of dark humor into my experience. It serves as a cautionary tale for future pilgrims as well as a plea to hajj officials to acknowledge the pilgrims’ rising desperation. 

The Unnoticed Shift toward Commercialization and Commodification 

Beneath this year’s surface grief due to deaths and tragedies lingers a somber shadow in the Muslim collective memory, a gradual shift that’s transforming Islam’s spiritual cornerstone into a commercialized spectacle.

Historically, Makkah thrived as a commercial hub and pilgrims engaged in modest trade to offset their journey’s costs. But today, a starkly different narrative unfolds. The Saudi government and corporations have poured billions into erecting five-star hotels, opulent malls, and designer boutiques. In contrast, no significant visible efforts have been made to alleviate the pilgrims’ suffering in Arafah, Mina, Muzdalifa, or the Jamarat rituals — the pilgrimage’s most strenuous tenets — even for the Nusuk-registered ones. This tragic reality has slowly shifted the hajj’s focus from spiritual renewal to tourism, severing pilgrims’ deep-rooted connection to Islam and ceasing its spiritual essence. 

Luxury and convenience, and the growing focus on opulent accommodations, carefully curated packages, and modern amenities, have overtaken spirituality. Even tawaf, traditionally a moment of communing with God, is now often overshadowed by the urge to capture and share the experience. This disturbing trend reduces hajj to a mere commodity and Makkah to a meticulously crafted commercial product.

The responsibility rests on the pilgrims, due to their growing consumer demands, and the Saudi government, whose recent prioritization of hajj as a revenue stream next to oil (Abbas Al Lawati, www.cnn.com, July 6) overshadows its spiritual dynamics.

Nusuk, an enabler of pilgrims’ convenience, has indeed benefited many of them. However, it shouldn’t be constricting pilgrims. Its always-late release (2-3 months before hajj) causes unnecessary uncertainty. For example, pilgrims must spend sleepless nights to secure their desired packages and flights. Precious pre-hajj soul-searching moments are sacrificed to addressing logistics and amenities. Moreover, it ultimately defies the pilgrimage’s essence: detaching oneself from earthly entanglements to invest in godly endeavors.

The hajj is not isolated from daily religion or rituals that may require such grand tourist exposure, like luxury hotels. Rather, it’s the culmination of one’s achieved spiritual maturity. Leaving worldly affairs behind, hajj is a chance to reflect on one’s shortcomings with a promise to purge them and restore the highest connection with God so that one can return home with a pure and resolute heart like a newly born person. Current socio-cultural settings challenge such an essence of pilgrimage.

However, hope is still there. This trend of commercialization is just a few decades old. Traditionally, pilgrims were welcomed as “Guests of Allah,” with no mandatory packages or labeled groups. Their hearts still beat with reverence and longing for the Divine, waiting to flourish, as was evident during this year’s hajj. We must not allow the passage of time to erase that spiritual pulse of pilgrimage. Let the administration, religious authorities, and travel agencies work with each other to preserve the sanctity of Hajj in the sands of Saudi Arabia to avoid tension or tremor, and foster unity, piety, and a transformative experience for all pilgrims, as it has been for centuries.

Anime Abdullah is a freelance writer.

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By Iqbal Unus

Sep/Oct 2024

These extraordinary times challenge us to commit to a vision anchored in good leadership, to principles and core values that drive its exercise. 

Throughout history, societies have prospered or suffered under leaders imposed or chosen by them due to circumstance or the peoples’ will. The everlasting question is how we comprehend leadership as a force for good or evil. What inspires goodness or evil, motivates effectiveness or chaos, undergirds benevolence or oppression?

Fifteen centuries ago, in the nascent Muslim polity, the first elected caliph Abu Bakr al-Siddiq (‘alayhi salam) gave his inaugural address. Each of its few sentences is remarkable, for they convey a fundamental tenet of good leadership pertinent to all groups and situations in which people struggle to accomplish their social goals.

Inaugural Sermon

“O People! I have been put in authority over you, and I am not the best of you. So, if I do the right thing, help me and if I do wrong, then put me straight. Truthfulness is a sacred trust, and lying is a betrayal. The weak amongst you are strong in my sight. I will surely try to remove his pain and suffering. And the strong amongst you is weak to me. I will, Allah willing, realize the right from him fully. No people abandon jihad in the path of God save that He strikes them with humiliation. When obscene things spread among any nation, calamities generally continued to descend upon them. As long as I obey Allah and His Messenger, you should obey me, and if I do not obey Allah and His messenger, then obedience to me is not incumbent upon you. Now stand for the prayer” (Ibn Hashim, “al-Sirah al-Nabawiyah,” 2/661)

It’s important to recognize this khutbah’s solemnity and profound significance. This was the first time that the Muslim polity, so aptly organized by Prophet Muhammad (salla Allahu ‘alayhi wa sallam), would be governed by an ordinary man without the benefit of direct divine revelation. The Prophet had taught and demonstrated how Muslims should live among themselves and in the broader community. Abu Bakr laid down the social contours of how the Muslim polity should be led and governed.

• “I have been put in authority over you, and I am not the best of you.” While the process of Abu Bakr’s selection may not seem consistent with modern election practices, it embodied the central element of consultation among the Muslims unconstrained by the nominee’s undue pressure or demands.

By saying “I have been put in authority over you,” he acknowledged that he had not extracted or usurped authority. His authority was based on legitimacy offered by those who had elected him, leading to his obligation to the rule of law emanating from that legitimacy.

There is universal agreement that Abu Bakr stood tall among the Companions as an individual of character and commitment and was well-deserving of leadership. On that day, he stood before the Muslim community in humility, not pride. He knew that his commission was not to lord it over the people, but to serve them. “I am not the best of you,” was not simply a hollow statement of politeness, but a true rejection of any trace of arrogance.

• “So, if I do the right thing, help me. If I do wrong, then put me straight.” Authority is conferred on a leader to further the public good. Authority misused calls for accountability. Accountability demands willingness to subject oneself to the rule of law, whether it is divine law or the law promulgated by an authority within its domain, or even a law that the ruler establishes for the public good.

Abu Bakr places constraints on his own authority to make and enforce decisions. These decisions must be “right” for the public good and deserving of his followers’ compliance. He would hold himself accountable if he strayed from a shared understanding of what was right, asking his followers, “If I do wrong, then put me straight.”

By emphasizing the people’s right to do so, he referred to an implicit agreement between himself as the leader and the people as followers. In modern parlance, such an agreement is a social contract in which citizens yield their rights to a government in the hope that it will protect the rights they could not protect on their own. 

• “Truthfulness is a sacred trust, and lying is a betrayal.” Both justice and stability are related to the value that society places on truth and the extent to which its members adhere to truthfulness. A legislative body cannot make meaningful laws if legislators cannot depend on each other’s truthfulness and of those who contribute information and ideas. Architects cannot design a safe building if they cannot depend on the building materials suppliers’ to design the needed materials truest to their specific requirements. From the narrowest to the broadest, from the least significant to the most consequential, any relationship within a society benefits from its members’ truthfulness.

Abu Bakr characterizes truthfulness as a sacred trust and declares lying to be a betrayal of that trust. To lie is to distort, discredit, or contradict what is true in a manner that facts or reality are ignored or compromised. The true relationship between a leader and his followers cannot be based on lying, if for no other reason than both of them must seek to achieve the same ends. 

• “The weak amongst you are strong in my sight. … And the strong amongst you is weak to me.”

Justice rendered without fear or favor to all groups, and to all whom the leader leads and serves, is a fundamental trait of leadership. Just laws, fair policies, and ethical conduct are all hallmarks of a balanced social order. Individuals and groups, strong or weak, expect they will be treated equitably. 

The weak suffer from “pain and suffering” caused by oppressive individuals or systems. By describing them as “strong in my sight,” Abu Bakr commits himself to focusing his attention on their plight. The strong may usurp the rights of the weak. By describing them as “weak to me,” Abu Bakr commits himself to extracting the rights so usurped, with no fear or favor.

• “No people abandon jihad in the path of God …” Abu Bakr’s mention of jihad following his reference to justice seems to emphasize that jihad is, in its essence, a desire for justice. A constant struggle, endeavor, confrontation, or fight by just and appropriate means to achieve a better condition (“the path of God”) is what the divine command calls for. In the absence of a response from the Muslim polity, he warns that God will respond by withdrawing the honor that is due to a community of obedience, thus striking them with humiliation.

• “When obscene things spread among any nation ….” Harmonious and peaceful relationships among people demand mutual respect and consideration, leading to decency in behavior toward one another and the community.

Decency and obscenity are contagious. As people respond to decency with decency, people may respond to obscenity with obscenity or numbness to increasing obscenity. Just as a chain is as strong as its weakest link, one or a group of individuals can, by their obscene behavior, weaken the society of which they are a part.

Leaders must act with, promote, expect, and reward decency. They must actively promote decent behavior by example, persuasion, setting expectations, and establishing rules as necessary. To make all that happen, leadership must rest in the hands of decent people.

• “As long as I obey Allah and His messenger, you should obey me, … No individual has absolute power or authority to demand obedience. All kings or emperors, conquerors or autocrats, heads of state or governments have a limit to their demand for obedience. Their right to be obeyed springs from their obedience to the higher authority from whom they derive their right to rule.

Abu Bakr makes the crucial point that he is subject to a higher authority’s command. If he fails to obey, he forfeits his own authority to be obeyed. On the flipside, followers have an obligation, not simply the right, to hold their leaders responsible to be faithful and obedient to the authority above them.

This principle reverberates through all human systems of governance, from ancient to modern. The higher authority may be a different scripture or tradition, or a set of agreements such as a constitution or a set of laws. In a contemporary secular society, for example, governors will be subject to the “rule of law,” where law represents the higher authority that deserves and demands the governors’ obedience before they can demand obedience from those they govern.

• “Now stand for prayer.” Leadership must have a purpose. Leaders must lead their followers to a goal that not only serves their best interest, but also meets their highest ideals. Abu Bakr concluded his inaugural sermon with a call that encapsulated the essence of that purpose.

“Now stand for prayer” affirms that  worshipping the Divine is the end goal, the final objective, and the essence of all actions to which Abu Bakr had exhorted the community to commit itself. “Now stand for prayer” in a collective act of worship also binds the ruler and the ruled into a shared compact, surrendering to the sovereignty of one undisputed God of both. 

The conscientious exercise of authority, humility, accountability, truthfulness, justice, jihad, decency, sovereignty, and purpose is what Abu Bakr would have us commit to, both the leaders and the led. These are rungs of the ladder and steps on the scaffold as we seek to strengthen our societies, from our neighborhoods to nation states at home and around the world. 

These are words that must continue to ring in our ears, now and forever.

Iqbal Unus is the author of “A Caliph for Our Times: How Abu Bakr’s Inaugural Sermon can Transform Leadership Today” (2022).

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By Maariya Quadri

May/Jun 2024

In the winter of 2004, newlyweds Amy Chiang and her husband decided to put their wedding gift money toward hajj instead of a honeymoon. They performed the sacred journey for roughly $5,000 per person. Two decades later, the cost has skyrocketed to nearly four times that amount.

“Hearing that takes my breath away,” said Chiang, who works as an attorney and has three children. “Hajj is an obligation, and by making it so expensive the Saudi government is taking it out of the realm of what’s possible for most people.” 

Unlike Chiang, Noor Ahmed* and her husband performed hajj before their nineteenth wedding anniversary last year. They originally had planned to go during 2020, but the pandemic put their plans on hold. The couple put aside that money for when they could go, eventually in 2023. When they saw the new post-Covid price tag, they were shocked. 

Throughout their marriage, Ahmed and her husband have been mindful of their expenditures to save for hajj. 

“My entire extended family lives in Egypt, and my siblings and parents visit them frequently,” says Ahmed. “However, we have yet to go there or Pakistan or on umrah, all of which are highly expensive trips for our family of five. We didn’t want to spend on another international trip before we fulfilled our obligation toward Allah first.” 

Hajj was the first time Ahmed and her husband had ever visited Makkah or traveled abroad together. 

How to Save

So how exactly does one save up for such an expensive undertaking? Chiang recommends that people open a separate hajj bank account, determine a rough cost estimate and start budgeting a little every month to afford it.

Another way could be to open a hajj account with an Islamic investment company. Iman Fund, an investment advisor to a mutual fund, has a shariah-compliant methodology by not investing in companies that deal with interest, alcohol, gambling, adult entertainment, or pork products. Instead they invest in technology, healthcare, along with oil and gas companies. 

Mohamad Nasir (general manager, Iman Fund), a Sharia-compliant investment advisor to a mutual fund, recommends applying for his fund’s specific hajj account. Once this account is in place, he suggests investing a chosen amount of money each month. Even if doing so is difficult for some, there are other options. 

“You can put as much money as you can at any time you want,” Nasir said. He advises against investing in the market only over one year, as it fluctuates. Instead, the ideal is to invest in the mutual fund over several years, so that even during times of fluctuation one’s money is protected. “You are accumulating your funds for hajj over time, rather than making a difficult last-minute purchase.” He also acknowledges that this special account psychologically prepares people for the responsibility to save. “This makes saving easier, rather than pulling it out of a regular investment or bank account,” he says.

IT director Haroon Hasan, a father of two from Clifton, N.J., plans to go on hajj this year. He recommends committing to a clear goal and working backward. To do this, he says, “Pay yourself first. Decide how much of your paycheck goes into savings before anything else.” 

Nadia Naviwala, a teacher in Illinois, performed hajj in 2023 along with her husband and mother-in-law. However, they went with a Pakistani group called Al-Moazzin, since they all had dual citizenship. She also knows others who have done the same. Their package still cost a pretty penny, but they wanted to go with a group that conversed primarily in Urdu for the convenience of her mother-in-law. 

Who Pays for Hajj?

Should the husband or the wife pay for this costly journey? “I think it’s a beautiful gift and reward for the husband that doesn’t take away from the wife’s reward in any way,” notes Chiang, who saved with her husband for their second hajj in 2006. 

Ahmed agrees on this joint approach, especially after becoming a stay-at-home mom, saying, “For my husband, it was very important to him that he was paying his part on his own. For us, our collective money went into it, which was mostly from my husband. Whether it comes from my income or his, I believe it’s the same.” 

Hafiz Azam Hashmi, a Chicago native and group leader for Sacred Hajj, a 501(c)(3) company, states that from a Sharia standpoint, it’s not necessarily the husband’s obligation to pay for his wife’s hajj. However, he acknowledges that everyone’s financial circumstances are different. 

“The husband may typically gift a certain amount of money to his wife, which she can use to afford hajj,” says Hashmi, the father of four. He also offers the flip side, saying, “Sometimes the wife is in a better financial situation and may end up gifting the husband the money.”

Hashmi’s first hajj in 2006 cost around $6,000 per person. As a single person with very few other expenses, he was able to afford it in about 18 months. 

“For hajj 2024, we at Sacred Hajj are working with our travel partner Adam Travel to offer a package of around $16-$18,000 per person, depending on the accommodations chosen,” he shares. He worries, though, about people taking on credit card debt to pay for it, for paying or taking interest is haram.

According to Naviwala, they had to cut down on the “extras” post-hajj. Ahmed, whose children are much older than Naviwala’s two girls, states that now they’re saving for their kids’ college education. They also hope to perform a family umrah soon. 

When Should You Go?

“Don’t delay it,” Hashmi advises. “Whenever Allah has blessed a person with enough money and the ability to go, it actually becomes wajib (compulsory) upon them.” He speculates that people’s attitude might get in the way. “There’s never going to be the right time. I think that’s a big mistake that some people make — thinking they’re not ready yet.” 

Chiang emphasizes this as well. “If you have everything and are delaying it, that’s scary,” she says. “What if Allah asks, ‘I gave you all this, so why didn’t you go?’” 

One factor can be familial restraints, such as leaving young children behind. Some young couples are opting for hajj before starting a family. Others have family members who are willing to watch their children while they make this trip of a lifetime. Start with making the purest intention and working toward it. Ask God to make it happen with full sincerity, and doors that you didn’t even know existed can open for you. 

God understands each person’s intentions, circumstances and efforts. 

Hadith compilations by al-Nasa’i, Ibn Majah, Ibn Khuzaiymah, Ibn Hibban and others proclaim that the Prophet said that all pilgrims are God’s guests. 

“You never know what could happen; it’s a fard for which we are held accountable for not doing when we could have,” Ahmed states. “So do your best to make it happen, and Allah will take care of the rest.” 

*Name changed for privacy of the interviewee.

Maariya Quadri, an avid reader and nature lover, lives in Illinois with her family. A pre-law student pursuing communications and technology, she volunteers as a community relations commissioner for her village and works as a youth mentor.

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By Emily M. Duncan

May/Jun 2024

“Not having access to scholars and Islamic materials is, to me, the most difficult thing,” said Dennis, who is incarcerated in Florida. “Many times I’ve needed to know what scholars have said about a particular thing, and I couldn’t find it in any of the books I had.”

The estimated 350,000 imprisoned Muslims in the U.S. face many difficulties, among them that prison libraries contain far fewer copies of the Quran than the Bible, contain very limited other educational materials and that despite laws banning religious discrimination in prison, the discrepancy in access to religious materials remains very real. 

Incarcerated individuals who are reverting or re-dedicating themselves to Islam face hurdle after hurdle. These include a distinct dearth of religious guidance from Muslim community members on the outside and the unwillingness of prison administrators to fix existing problems. Thus our fellow Muslims are left out in the cold, hungry for information and guidance. 

In 2000, Congress passed the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act (RLUIPA) , which requires jails and prisons to provide reasonable religious accommodations for inmates. It also prohibits institutions from placing a “substantial burden” on inmate religious practices.

Religious Discrimination

Yet, Muslim inmates continue to file many lawsuits on the grounds that their religious needs are being ignored. They cite a lack of accommodation for fasting, unjust prices of religious materials (e.g., prayer rugs) and the lack of halal food. A chief complaint is the lack of access to educational materials, including such essentials as the Quran. 

“It is important to the incarcerated Muslim to have a connection with the broader community, to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance. It is hard in prison for Muslims,” said Jason H from Colorado. “We would greatly appreciate volunteers to come and speak with us, give a khutba, share with us what is going on in the community. We could use Islamic materials. All our libraries are supplied by the inmates’ personal donations. The state does not provide a budget to purchase any additional materials. It would be nice to have a familiarity with some brothers, so that when we get released, we can feel like we are coming into a welcomed environment and brotherhood.”

There are very few, if any, Qurans available for use at any given prison library. There certainly aren’t enough to serve the entire Muslim population. Incarcerated Muslim communities rely on donations from the public to build their religious libraries. 

“It’s one of the top asks from our students, and many say that they make a point of donating their own materials to their chaplain once they’ve completed coursework to help build the library for future inmates,” said Nabil Afifi (co-founder and development director, Tayba Foundation), who has worked with the incarcerated for more than 15 years. 

Tayba Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to serving individuals and families impacted by incarceration, believes in the power of human change through holistic education, guidance and support. Their work is organized into three interrelated program areas: education, life skills, and re-entry.

Markup for Being Muslim

A Pennsylvania Post review of county jails from 2020 found that certain jails give Bibles away for free, while charging for Qurans. Bibles were typically available for $8, whereas copies of the Quran were closer to $20. A prayer rug was $23 and a kufi cap $12. These prices are much higher than what these same items cost on the outside. 

Both Christian and Muslim leaders have spoken out about the unjust prices for religious materials in prison. Prison wages are infamously low, with rates typically starting at pennies per hour. Some inmates get around just $20 a month. A Quran isn’t the only purchase an inmate would like to make. In addition, many necessities are only offered as commissary items, such as soap, toothpaste and feminine hygiene products — not to mention phone and video calls to family. 

This makes it incredibly difficult for an inmate to afford a $20 Quran. But obtaining it is only half the battle; the other half is keeping it safe, for it could still be seized during a routine search or destroyed by fellow inmates. 

“I’ve struggled with discrimination, retaliation and ignorance on all levels coming from administrations, correctional officers and inmates,” said Joe in Connecticut. “They must have acted out of either bigotry and/or Islamophobia, disrespecting our Qurans and other Islamic texts by throwing them on the floor, tearing them and/or stepping on them during cell inspections (shakedowns).”

Being Muslim Without Guidance

There are fewer Muslims active in prisons than other religions, despite Muslims being overrepresented among the prison population. 

“Christians in prison have literally hundreds of programs and correspondence courses. They have spiritual advisors or people from the community that volunteer to come and visit them and assist them in religious ways,” said Ali from Connecticut. “Being Muslim in here, we feel abandoned and not connected to the community. It almost feels like the community is embarrassed by us. Christians and Jews have support networks. Tayba is the closest I have seen to what they have.”

Ali believes the prison authorities were — and are — antagonistic toward Islam. He feels Muslims are seen as being against the administration and as a radical group. 

“Most people fear us or hate us. We used to be open targets. That has changed. But not much. Gangs used to see us as a threat to the negativity that they stand for. At times we are usually a source of balance in keeping peace,” he said. “We continue to get harassed with receiving Islamic books and literature. All Islamic materials must be reviewed by the security administration. They even tried to deny us Sahih al-Bukhari at one time.”

While Islam ranks as the second largest faith in federal prisons, Muslims don’t have nearly enough chaplains to guide them. 

In March 2020, a study showed that 84% of chaplains were Protestants, even though Protestants only make up 34% of the inmate population. Meanwhile, just 13 Muslim chaplains are working at federal prisons to provide guidance to over 11,000 Muslim inmates. Without enough chaplains, the Friday prayer is routinely canceled, hindering Muslims from practicing their faith or gathering together at all. In addition to performing their traditional functions, Muslim chaplains can advocate for resources more effectively. 

Why the Disconnect?

These statistics are the result of several realities. Prisons are often located in rural settings, while many of the larger Muslim communities are based in cities and traveling to faraway prisons requires resources. Many incarcerated Muslims are Black or Latino, while many of the major mosques are run primarily by immigrant Muslims. The result, however unintentional, is a disconnect. Many of the communities that might have enough to help may not know how to do so. 

To make matters worse, the Bureau of Prisons’ requirements to apply to be a chaplain add an extra layer of difficulty for potential Muslim chaplains. They must be between 21 and 37 years old at the time of their initial appointment and have a graduate level degree in theology — a significant barrier for those who cannot afford higher education. The bureau also requires chaplains to be ordained, even though many faiths, including Islam, don’t ordain clergy. To get around this, religious leaders must provide adequate documentation of the applicant’s functioning in ministerial leadership roles. These requirements significantly limit the pool of applicants and exclude many community members who would be wonderful chaplains.

The result is incarcerated Muslims who feel forgotten and have few resources to learn and grow in their religion. While a few institutions have robust Muslim communities with knowledgeable leaders, many smaller communities don’t even have someone who can read Arabic. Often, Tayba students end up becoming prison imams and leading their community, as they’re the only ones with access to any knowledge about Islam.

Many of our female students have reported being completely without guidance, support or options.

“Services are not offered here. The chaplain says she can’t find anyone willing to come to the women’s site,” said Laura in Tennessee. “Volunteers go to the men’s side only.”

“We have jummah and ta‘leem (learning circles), but no consistent imam to be here on a consistent basis,” said Tameka from Florida. “We are met with many roadblocks and are disrespected during Ramadan.”

“I have been targeted and mistreated for who I am and what I believe in. Not only do I suffer what has become the norm of systematic racism, being a black male coming through these penal institutions, but being Muslim means a double dose of discrimination,” said Leon in Illinois. “They don’t recognize our holidays or provide us with proper feasting, as they do with all other religions. Nor will they allow speakers to come and speak to us or represent us as they do all other religions. Everything is labeled a security issue.”

How to Help

As a result, countless Muslims behind bars are desperate to learn more about their faith and getting to know their brothers and sisters in the faith. Getting access to knowledge, guidance and community will make them productive members of our communities and strengthen their iman from behind bars and upon their release.

It’s not a hopeless situation. We can help if we work together by donating Qurans, Islamic literature and our time. 

“It is our duty as their brothers and sisters to help them learn their deen and support them,” said Afifi. “At Tayba, we provide guidance to this deeply underserved population. We offer courses in Islam, having created materials tailored specifically to the prison population. We also provide personal support on re-entry, reducing recidivism by helping the formerly incarcerated to set up their lives as Muslims and ultimately become the upstanding community members they want to be.”

Emily M. Duncan is a New York-based, Canadian-born freelance writer with an undergraduate degree in theater. She is passionate about language learning, social justice, and family recipes. She has worked with Tayba Foundation since 2020. Find out more about their programs and courses at taybafoundation.org.

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By Sundus Abrar

Jan/Feb 2024

“Shame on you.” 

“She was my inspiration.”

“Tears started falling and I really loved you.” 

These are some of the emotionally charged comments that remain on an Instagram post of a Muslim influencer when she decided to stop wearing the hijab. Despite her very public presence on Instagram, she has opted to not clarify her reasons for doing so. Subsequent requests from Islamic Horizons for an interview were not answered. A’s identity is not the central concern in this discussion, but the turbulent reaction to her personal decision needs to be explored to understand how the actions of public individuals impact the broader Muslim community. 

Interviews referenced here were conducted prior to the ongoing and devastating siege in Palestine which has resulted in a rise in Islamophobic rhetoric and hate crimes affecting “visible” Muslims in North America. As the mainstream media continues to peddle a familiar bias narrative, many are beginning to question its validity. Social media, despite the persistent attempts of censorship on it, serves as a key access point to portraying the realities of oppressed populations. 

Muslims have consistently been vilified in mainstream media. This has far-reaching and tragic outcomes when Muslims are targeted in acts of hate and harassment. Presenting as visibly Muslim, an experience shared by women who wear the hijab, can be difficult in such unbalanced settings. Social media offers relative safe spaces for these women to connect and build resilience to overcome the challenges they encounter in their immediate environments. 

Leaving the Hijab

Before she stopped wearing hijab, A used her presence online to share different hijab styles and modest dressing. She also offered services as a hijab stylist which led to the launch of her hijab line. In a 2014 interview, published on a Muslim blog, she shared insight about when she started wearing hijab at age 11. “I wore it by choice because I had the right influence around me.” This positive influence was what many of A’s followers were seeking to aid them in their own hijab journeys. 

Like A, several other influencers have recently stopped wearing hijab. Two other women also marketed hijabs and modest fashion lines. They were vocal in their choice to wear hijab when they were maintaining this choice but did not discuss their reasons for why they stopped. Their dismissiveness only led to more questioning and frustration from their followers. 

People feel betrayed and disappointed when the unspoken expectations they have of influencers and public figures they admire are not met. These feelings are not unwarranted. A deeply resonating message, or niche, on social media, evokes an emotional response in followers which results in increased content engagement. This is the very currency for prominence and success on social media. An emotionally invested following online can often nly be sustained through an influencer’s consistency in messaging.

Do Influencers then have any responsibility to maintain this trust and be consistent in their personal choice to wear hijab? 

Scholarly Advice

Dr. Tamara Gray, acclaimed religious scholar and founder of Rabata, a Minnesota-based nonprofit Islamic organization for women, is thoughtful and thorough in addressing this concern. 

With a considerable following on social media herself, she recognizes the challenges that come with heightened prominence for influencers.  “The early companions didn’t want to be leaders because they knew this was hard, and I am going to have to put even more of my nafs aside,” said Gray. “Being in the limelight is really hard because now you have to make decisions that are not only about yourself but are also about those that are following you.” 

She uses the example of an account she follows which shares vintage fabric designs. Should this influencer change the focus of their content, the impact on their followers would likely not be deeply distressing. The same does not hold true if an influencer is using their platform to promote religion. They need to be more mindful and consistent. 

“Losing religion publicly can be a great sin,” said Gray. “It’s serious because it’s not only about you anymore. If what you did caused other people to struggle – if you put yourself out there as an influencer and you benefited from it and you set that aside – that’s not responsible.” 

Influencers are being watched in their personal settings, such as their homes and cars. Followers may develop a sense of closeness through these observations. The experience for the influencer though is very different. He or she does not have the same level of familiarity with her observers. “We need to be intentional and understand that we are creating relationships,” said Dr Gray. 

 Though followers may be upset about an influencer’s decision, Gray encourages thoughtful conduct in our engagement online.

“You are not fixing things by lashing out at someone. That is not the Islamic way.  You are just making sin for yourself. We need adab and akhlaq in interactions with people no matter who they are,” she said. 

Holding each other accountable is important for Muslims, but accusatory comments are not beneficial. Influencers who are consistent in wearing their hijab are also met with harsh comments.

Maintaining the Hijab

Tahirah Folk, New York native, model, and influencer, has often received unkind and accusatory comments online. As an African American she shares her experience with racism within the Muslim community, “The only place I felt I truly belonged as a Muslim was when I went for Umrah.” She addresses the criticism she has experienced about her approach to hijab in a Tiktok (@sincerelytahiry) post: “People who I will never allow to come for my hijab” went viral. The responses to it are polarizing. While some argue that women should be receptive to criticism, many women who wear hijab wholly endorsed the boundaries Folk asserts. “To give naseeha (advice) you have to be involved in the emotional wellbeing of the person,” Folk said. 

 Online, Folk has connected with her community celebrating Black Muslim women, and she is aware of the potential her prominence brings. “I have always been very intentional once I saw that I was getting a platform. I knew I wanted to represent a community that is often overlooked,” she stated. 

Upholding this concern, she called attention to a recent incident of exclusionary marketing. During New York Fashion Week. Veiled Collection, a popular brand for Muslim modest fashion, invited prominent Muslim modest fashion influencers to represent their brand. The concern was a glaring lack of diversity. Most influencers were light or fair-skinned. Folk’s view was echoed, and the complaint gained traction.  Veiled Collection finally offered a statement acknowledging their shortcoming in reflecting the diversity of Muslim women.

Though no actual changes were made to the event, the swift recourse inspired @everyblackmuslimgirl, an online community for Black Muslim to host EBMG Fest. This took place a few weeks after Veiled Fest and invited Black Muslim influencers and brands to showcase their products. It proved that collaboration opportunities through social media can amplify social issues and expedite solutions. 

Influencer and modest stylist, Hakeemah Cummings (@hakeemahcmb) shared Folk’s post criticizing Veiled Fest. She too has faced criticism online. She understands that there should be accountability, but she won’t respond to accusations or answer questions she feels she is not equipped to address. “The comment section is not a place to bully. If you are seeking a question, you should be asking a scholar. I am far from that.”

Real vs. Reel Friends

Cummings feels secure in her hijab and actively produces content to guide others on how to adhere to it, but she still relies on her sister’s opinion to ensure her content aligns with Islamic values. “There is really no one online who knows and loves me the way she does. I know that she will push back when I am getting self-absorbed and losing myself in whatever the trends are,” she added. She encourages women seeking support in their faith and hijab journeys to navigate online spaces thoughtfully and seek friendships in real life. “Have that one friend who you can call when you are struggling with your faith,” Cummings said. 

Social media platforms aim to increase engagement. More engagement yields more revenue. To achieve this, social media platforms employ a tool called the algorithm which ensures that users see content most like that which they engaged with the most. To manage this tool to the benefit of the user, Cummings recommends engaging and seeking out content that serves a person’s aspirations. 

She advises a break from social media for those that feel overcome with negative emotions. “It is emotionally taxing if the content you see online is constantly bringing you up and down.” 

Starting the Hijab

With every influencer who takes off the hijab, there are more who start wearing it. Dr. Areeba Adnan, a Toronto, Canada influencer and psychologist is one such example. Her platform @mintcandydesigns initially highlighted her DIY home projects, but now she shares more of her efforts in furthering her understanding of Islam. 

Adnan also teaches the “Influencer Blueprint,” an online course for aspiring digital creators.  “I feel a sense of moral responsibility to the eyes that are watching me. I feel it’s my responsibility to define my values and stay true to them.” 

Nevertheless, she emphasizes the limitations of the influencer culture. “There is an important distinction to be made- you may be influenced by people online, but they are simply people that you watch.”

Adnan has been open about her hijab struggle. Before she became an influencer, she had worn the hijab for five years. “I felt I wasn’t a good Muslim, and I am going to stop wearing hijab and focus more on learning about other aspects of my faith. That didn’t happen. It took me 12 years to come back to learning more about my faith and to wearing hijab again.” 

She advises women considering wearing the hijab or struggling to keep wearing it, to take time in assessing their concerns and persevere.  “It is important to really reflect and do the internal work, and it is important who we surround ourselves with in real life to help us understand why we wear hijab, “she said. 

“Good suhba (companionship) is essential to progress in our faith,” said Dr. Gray. “It’s not something that we have yet figured out how to entirely achieve online.” 

Sundus Abrar, an undergraduate degree in professional writing, aspires to generate dialog around current concerns within the Muslim community. 

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By Tayyaba Syed

Nov/Dec 2023

Many companions of the Prophet (salla Allahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) memorized the Quran as adults. They were accepting Islam, learning it, and memorizing the Quran simultaneously. 

We usually think that only children memorize it. When I reflect on what role I want the Quran to play in my life, I first have to remember that I grew up without it. Thus there is 20 years’ worth of lost time I feel like I need to make up. 

When I was expecting my eldest, I got a job teaching Islamic studies to a group of young girls. I was embarrassed to admit how little of the Quran I knew by heart compared to them, but they inspired me. I had learned that the Quran you recite out loud while the fetus is in utero can help the child eventually memorize it. It’s worth a shot, I thought. 

That summer I memorized the four Qul (Chapters 109, 112, 113, 114)  and that winter, at 23, I completed my first reading of the entire Quran. To my surprise, my daughter was born shortly thereafter — seven weeks early. Little did I know that this 4.5 pound preemie the size of my hand was already carrying the Quran in her little heart.

It’s Not a Race

Both of my teens took their time completing hifz (memorization). My husband’s upbringing and relationship with the Quran was completely the opposite of mine. He had taken a gap year between high school and college to formally memorize the Quran, but found it hard to do in such a short time. So for our children, we decided to take a more traditional approach: enabling them to pursue hifz by prioritizing the creation of a solid and sound lifelong relationship with the Quran. We found teachers and programs that taught them how to build fluency and recite with proper pronunciation. To stress this undertaking’s importance, we’ve continued our own Quran journeys alongside them.

We assumed hifz would happen organically. Our children were good memorizers, so we encouraged them. I still remember driving with my daughter, then probably around 10, one day. She had been memorizing part time for two years. She said, “You and Baba didn’t ask me if I wanted to do hifz.” 

Silence. 

Of course, what I wanted to do was steer right off the road in shock. Deciding not to react, I heard her say, “But I’m glad that you did. I don’t think I would have chosen this for myself.” Okay, I could breathe again.

Shahzain Kureishy from Dallas actually cried when his parents said he was going to start hifz full time. He and his older brother had already memorized a few sections part time, and his parents felt they were ready to transition. However, all Kureishy could think about was leaving all his friends behind. Aged 10, he was just coming out of elementary school and looking forward to starting middle school.

“It was a really big change and adjustment,” recalls Kureishy, 27. “We had super long hours in the masjid from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. Monday through Friday, plus five hours on Saturdays with homeschooling incorporated in between. Day in and day out we did the same thing, and it was very intense.” 

After each section, he would think, Wow. I finished that, only to realize how much he still had left to do. There were times he would get discouraged and felt like it was too hard, but he did not give up.

“Sometimes I wasn’t allowed to move forward [in my memorization], because I had to solidify what I already knew,” shares Kureishy, who now works in digital marketing. “As a kid, that can be hard and affects your self-confidence. Overall, it took me 2.5 years to complete hifz, and I am grateful that my parents pushed me to do it. I made good friends, learned so much about my religion and developed the ability to read the Quran with fluency and proper tajwid (pronunciation).”

One aspect of hifz that Kureishy found stressful, though, was leading tarawih prayers during Ramadan. It was a lot of pressure and responsibility, but he states that he appreciated the opportunity to practice what he had memorized.

Women and Hifz

Since women don’t have to lead tarawih, some may consider this a reason not to pursue hifz. However, a woman’s relationship with the Quran can impact generations to come. The mother’s lap is the first madrasa for the child, so the Quran has to be an intricate part of it.

Sarah Othman, the mother of four, had no intention of teaching her children the Quran; however, she became their first hifz teacher while working on her own memorization. Once she completed it this year, aged 31, she found herself teaching international students online as well. 

“[It] was part of my life from age 5 until secondary school,” says Othman, who lives in Alexandria, Egypt. “Unfortunately, with the pressures of [secular] studies, I decided to leave the Quran until I entered university. It was the wrong decision, of course, as the Quran does not conflict at all with studies, but helps. In college, I saw my friends completing the Quran while studying, and I felt so much regret for not continuing it. I then decided to restart after motherhood and promised myself that I would continue whatever the circumstances. Now I can’t believe how many doors have opened, and not only do I get to teach my own kids, but so many others abroad as well, alhamdullilah.”

Tasneem Paruk from Cape Town, South Africa, has also been memorizing the Quran along with her children. Her hifz journey began when she was ten. Twenty-two years later, she’s still working on it. 

“My mom would take me at 5 a.m. to a not-so-safe part of town for my Quran class,” Paruk remembers. “In that one year, I didn’t even memorize one juz, but that desire never left me. It’s hard to find female Quran teachers here, though, so my 6-year-old and I are memorizing with the same teacher,” she chuckles. “We still practice in the car together on the way to her school.”

Paruk suffered severe postpartum depression after her second pregnancy and found grounding and healing through the Quran. Even though she finds memorizing to be challenging with a new 1.5-year-old son, she’s managed to commit almost a third of it to memory. 

“I have to get up two hours before everyone wakes up and stay up two hours after everyone goes to sleep to focus,” Paruk shares, “but memorization is not my end goal. It is just the starting point of my journey. I want to continue learning my deen, so I am giving myself two to three more years of memorization and then continue my religious studies further, insha Allah.” 

From both Othman and Paruk’s examples, we see that there is never a “right” time to start memorizing. Sayeeda Hikmat, 24, of Bloomingdale, Ill., says to just go for it.

Keep Intentions Pure

“A lot of individuals worry about lack of time to memorize, that it will take a long time or think they can do it later in life,” notes Hikmat, who completed her hifz during her teens over a span of five years. “But you will surprise yourself how much you can do if you are just consistent. Memorizing the Quran teaches you discipline and good habit-building. The process brings you blessings on repeat, so you might as well get started anytime. Keep your intentions purely for Allah, and He will always make a way for you.”

Personally, I’m still working on improving my recitation skills but managing to memorize chapters I never thought I’d be able to. My children quiz me, and that keeps us all grounded and humble. We shouldn’t limit ourselves and think we’re too old. What’s the excuse? We’re just standing in our own way. A friend of mine recently asked me how she can support her daughters in their new hifz journey, and I suggested that she start memorizing as well. 

It doesn’t matter how much we memorize, but that we stay consistent and persistent. When was the last time you tried to memorize a few verses? If you don’t have time to sit and memorize, just listen or repeat until it’s embedded in your cells. It’s the Word of God, so make it part of your essence. Find the teachers to listen to you recite, the ones who will encourage you, be patient with you, believe in you and cheer you on. A few years ago, I met a woman in her 60s who had finished memorizing the Quran. Yes, it is possible, or at least I can face my Lord saying I tried to “read…read in the Name of my Lord.”

Tayyaba Syed, a multiple award-winning author, journalist, and Islamic studies teacher, conducts literary and faith-based presentations for all ages and is an elected member of her local school district’s board of education in Illinois, where she lives with her husband and three children. Learn more at www.tayyabasyed.com.

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