Growing up, the hadith that held deep significance for me was: “The best among you are those who are best to their wives, and I am among the best among you to my wives”. In my mother’s home, it was a reminder of the love, respect and responsibility Islam places on relationships. My mother was deeply religious but my father was not, and these differences ultimately led to their divorce. My mother single-handedly raised us in Buffalo, while my father remarried a non-Muslim woman and built a life that looked very different from the one I knew. This created an internal tension for me — one where I was constantly exposed to two opposing views on love, relationships and faith.
As a child, I gravitated toward my mother’s teachings, absorbing the Islamic principles she instilled in us. I attended an all-girls school, wore the hijab and understood that love and intimacy were meant to be preserved within the sanctity of marriage. Yet, as I grew older and stepped into a world beyond my mother’s protection — attending high school, working and interacting with people outside my faith — I began to feel the weight of these teachings in a new way. My first experience with a guy occurred while I was still wearing the hijab, but it was with a non-Muslim. This alone was enough to bring on a wave of guilt — a feeling that I was somehow betraying the values I was raised with.
At the same time, I was exposed to different perspectives on relationships, particularly through sex education classes in school. In Islam, love and intimacy are guided by structure and morality: modesty, emotional connection and the sacred bond of marriage. The Quran speaks of spouses as being garments for one another (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:187), emphasizing mutual love, comfort and protection. Yet, in contrast, the lessons I learned in school approached relationships through a secular lens; casual dating, sexual freedom and personal choice were emphasized over religious or moral considerations. For years, I felt torn between two worlds, struggling to understand where I belonged.
For much of my adolescence, I viewed Islamic teachings as restrictive, especially as I witnessed my peers navigate relationships freely. But as I grew older, experienced heartbreak and saw the consequences of both my own and others’ choices, I began to understand that the guidance Islam provides isn’t meant to limit us but to protect us. Islam’s boundaries around love and intimacy aren’t arbitrary rules — they are safeguards designed to ensure emotional, mental and even physical well-being.
Moving to Stony Brook has been a turning point in my journey. Coming from an upstate town and now living in an environment separate from both of my parents’ direct influence — my mother now in Saudi Arabia and my father still living life on his terms — I’ve had the space to navigate these beliefs on my own. I’ve met people from all walks of life, each with their own perspectives on love, faith and relationships. Some have reaffirmed my beliefs, while others have challenged them, forcing me to think critically about where I stand. My high school Advanced Placement teacher really shaped my current views on religion. I remember sitting in his classroom after school, conversing about everything from religion, history and politics, to even trivial things like the best food spots around Buffalo. Back then, I wore the niqab, covering my face, and our conversations often danced between our differences — his Catholic upbringing and my Muslim beliefs — yet we always found common ground in curiosity and respect. He was one of the first people outside my community who truly made me feel heard, even when we disagreed. He wasn’t easy on me, though — throughout the years, he taught me the value of perspective and knowing when to listen and when to stand my ground.
I now understand that finding balance isn’t about choosing between my mother’s strict religious views or my father’s more liberal approach — it’s about forging my own understanding of faith, love and relationships. Islam has given me a foundation, and my experiences have given me perspective. I no longer see God’s commandments as limitations but as guidance meant to lead me toward the healthiest and most fulfilling path.
As a Muslim woman, I still believe in the principles of love and intimacy that Islam teaches, but I also recognize the complexities of navigating relationships in a modern world. What I’ve learned is that faith and personal growth aren’t mutually exclusive; rather, they work together to shape us into who we are meant to be.
