Inside each one of us, there is a desire to be part of something bigger than ourselves; to believe that our lives have a significance beyond our daily routines, work and family dramas; to be an integral part of the bigger picture.

If you look at the people around you who are striving to live purposeful lives, you will notice that they all affiliate themselves with something that matters to them, a cause they believe in. For some, the bigger picture is their extended family, or their neighbourhood, or their ethnic group. And for many of us, the bigger picture is about who we are as Muslims, about the greater Islamic family: the Ummah.

As a revert, the idea of belonging to a global family defined by the bonds of faith and mutual respect and responsibility is a powerful one. Here, in the arms of the Ummah, we expect to shed the barriers of race, class, culture and caste, and embrace each other as sincere brothers and sisters in faith. We expect to be welcomed, to be valued and to share in each other’s triumphs and tragedies as equals.

This ideal is especially attractive to those who have braved the scorn of family, friends and the wider society to step into the unknown and start living the ways of our new faith. Having cast much of our old identity aside in favour of a new, more Islamic version of ourselves, we expect the warmth and welcome of our new faith family to ease the pain of this transition.

Unfortunately, as many reverts will testify, this is not always the case. Often, the euphoria that surrounds a new shahadah is short-lived: offers of assistance begin to flow less freely just as the expectations and demands increase. We experience things we never thought possible when we first embraced Islam: rejection, prejudice, cultural chauvinism, racism, sexism, judgement, pressures related to how we dress, when we get married and endless other do’s and don’ts. All of a sudden, the Ummah doesn’t seem such a great place to be any more.

And this is the Ummah on a personal, local level. On an international scale, the Ummah is in a state of loss and turmoil. Success stories are few; stories of war, rebellion, drought and devastation are too many to count. Indeed, if the Muslim Ummah were a physical entity, it would be bleeding, riddled with disease, humiliated.

Why, then, did we choose the Ummah as our theme for this issue? Why, when there is so much to lament, did we choose to celebrate the larger Muslim family?

It may be because, in spite of all its complications and contradictions, there is something special about this community forged by faith. Allah SWT has honoured this community with His guidance, mercy and glad tidings.

And then there are the little things: the random acts of kindness, selfless generosity, unflinching solidarity and pure love for the sake of Allah SWT, that remind us of what the Ummah could really be. Because the Ummah is not some intangible entity outside of ourselves: it is you and it is me. The Ummah is every single one of us. And if we want to help the Ummah, if we want to improve our condition as Muslims, it starts with us. It starts with us seeking knowledge of this deen so that we can understand where we are going wrong and how to rectify ourselves; it starts with us cleansing ourselves, elevating ourselves, striving to live up to our potential as Muslims. And it starts with us passing on what we learn – to our families, friends, communities, in ever widening circles.

And, if we do all this, with true sincerity and trust in Allah SWT, do you have any doubt that we will see a change in the condition of the Ummah? That we will be able to taste the sweetness of true brotherhood, true sisterhood? That our communities will become enlightened places of worship, acceptance and joy?

I don’t. So how about we get the ball rolling, starting today?

May Allah swt accept all the work that we do within the Ummah and make us a cause for its revival, ameen.

Na’ima B.

I will always remember the first time I truly felt heir to a great legacy as a Muslim woman. It was upon reading the biographies of different sahabiyaat in the book, ‘The Ideal Muslimah’. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Prior to this, I had been feeling a sense of malaise, of discontent with what I saw as limited opportunities for growth within my community. I had begun to feel stifled by what I saw as the one-dimensional image of the ‘true Muslim woman’. Who was she, I asked myself, this cardboard cut-out, this patriarchal fantasy, this cookie cutter Muslimah that I was supposed to be emulating? Why were her options so limited? Why were her horizons so narrow? And why did I feel claustrophobic when I contemplated a life spent trying to live up to her cloistered image?

This was not the kind of question that one voiced at the time. Instead, I bit my tongue and sought guidance in Islamic books – maybe the fault was in me and not the stereotype. In an effort to hone my character and quell any signs of rebellion, I began to read the popular book entitled ‘The Ideal Muslimah’.

As I began reading through it, I found myself somewhat pacified: I enjoyed the author’s way of focusing on a woman’s relationship with Allah SWT before anything else, and I appreciated his recognition of the fact that, first and foremost, a Muslim woman is a slave of Allah SWT. Everything else follows on from that – the roles of daughter, sister, wife, mother and friend are, in essence, extensions of our worship of our Creator.

But if the reminder of the importance of my primary purpose was comforting, the author’s inclusion of several stories about the female companions of the Prophet Muhammad SAW was nothing less than inspirational and revelatory to me.

Here were women, real women, not cut-outs or caricatures, embodying their Islam in a myriad of different ways: they were wives and mothers, of course, but they were also scholars and martyrs, warriors and poets, philanthropists and teachers. I was humbled by the story of Khadijah RA’s unwavering loyalty and courage, of Sumayyah RA’s bravery, of Nusaybah RA’s exploits on the battlefield. These women were heroes, in the traditional sense of the word!

I can’t begin to tell you how much those stories affected me: I was moved, I was awed – I was inspired. Reading about our predecessors left me confident of a woman’s place in the Ummah and her value in the eyes of Allah SWT. The stories of these complex and fascinating women left an indelible impression on me, one I carry with me to this day. The thought that occurred to me then is still pertinent today: our predecessors were truly liberated by their Islam. Their strength and courage was not in spite of the deen, but because of it, because of the tawheed, because of their belief in the message and the Messenger SAW.

So, in the spirit of our new ‘I’m inspired by…’ feature, allow me to say this:
I am inspired by the legacy of the amazing women who went before me, charting an unmapped course, leaving a legacy for us to follow. Khadijah (RA), Sumayyah (RA), A’ishah (RA), Fatima (RA), Asiya (RA) and Maryam (AS) and so many more – I salute you.

I am inspired by my mother and my mother’s mother, by generations of women who stayed strong even when the future looked bleak; women who kept their smiles and their sanity and lived their lives with heads unbowed by oppression or discrimination. My mothers in South Africa, Zimbabwe, Somalia, Nigeria, Palestine, Egypt, Syria – I salute you.

I am inspired by my amazing editors, past and present, our awesome designers, our wonderful writers and, of course, our beloved readers whose support and words of encouragement inspire us to keep going when times are hard and the workload seems too heavy to bear – I salute you all.

I pray that you, too, find this issue as inspirational and uplifting as we have. I pray that it encourages you to dig deeper as you build your relationship with Allah SWT; to make a stronger commitment to implementing Islam in your life, to begin to truly honour your needs and nurture your skills and talents, to cherish your family, to better serve your community; indeed, to try your utmost to achieve your true potential as a Muslim woman.

Wasalaam
Na’ima B.

First published in the February 2013 edition of SISTERS

Islam came into my life in my second year of university and, with it, a change of plans. The description of the ‘nice guy’ changed, the house didn’t seem so important and the number of children increased. My dreams as a Muslim were shaped by what I read, by those around me who were on the same path as me.

I graduated from university as a Muslim, married, wearing jilbab and niqab, living in a one-bedroom flat. The dreams of my pre-Islamic self seemed, literally, a lifetime away. With a new focus on living an Islamic life and seeking the pleasure of Allah swt, my other ambitions fell by the wayside. I downsized my dreams.

In a way, this was an important step, a necessary shift in focus, from the life of this world to the Hereafter. Everyone who comes to Islam, whether as a revert or a returnee, must make this choice. For some reason, though, I thought that was the end of it, that dreams of achieving great things were no longer my prerogative.

Until I heard a da’ee say those unforgettable words: ‘Establish something great for Islam.’
In that moment, I was reminded of all the promise I had shown at school, of the many ideas I had filed away, of the opportunities for action and engagement I hadn’t taken. I had come to think that this was the route to piety but, after hearing those words, I began to re-examine my ideas and re-focus my energies. I returned to dreaming but, this time, it wasn’t the suburban ideal that had informed my life vision before Islam. Now my dreams were bigger, more beautiful, less short-termist and more focused on serving a greater cause, pleasing a higher power: Allah swt. This finally gave me permission to dream again. I began to write, to draw, to reach out – and Allah swt started making my dreams come true, one after the other.

Things have changed since I was a new Muslim. Through positive da’wah messages, life coaching and real-life examples, sisters within much of the practising Muslim community are being encouraged to dream, to fulfil their potential, to do great things both in and outside the home. Because dreaming big is not confined to the public stage; it is also manifested in our private lives: how much dedication and passion we put into or roles at home, with our families, on a community level. Living with passion is open to all who apply.

So, whether your dream is to memorise the entire Qur’an or learn Arabic, to make hijrah or travel the world, to homeschool your children or get a PhD, to open an orphanage or write a book, to start a business or leave the city life, to wear the hijab or niqab, marry a shaykh, or be happy being single, may you pursue it with passion, with a pure intention, with dedication and heart.

Dream, my sister. Dream big, beautiful dreams that are worthy of you as a Muslim and as an individual. If the dreams you once had don’t fit into your Islamic values, change them, modify them, or replace them with something better.

At the end of the day, we want our dreams – our ambitious plans and wild ideas – to raise us, not before the people, but before Allah swt. It is Him we wish to please by honouring our potential for greatness. It is Him we wish to draw close to by using the gifts and talents He blessed us with in His cause. It is His approval we should seek by aiming for excellence, always.

Now, if this sounds like a life of striving, of struggle, of never giving up, make no mistake, it is. But that is what we are on this earth to do: to strive and struggle for the reward of the Hereafter.
I pray that Allah swt blesses you with noble dreams that are pleasing to Him and that He gives you the means to live those dreams.

And may Allah swt bless all the sisters who shared their dreams with us in this issue. May He continue to bless them and increase them in good, ameen.

Wasalaam
Na’ima B. Robert
PS. If one of your dreams is to write a book, sign up for my writers’ newsletter at www.naimabrobert.co.uk/newsletter for tips, advice, interviews with other writers and online writing workshops.