The Christmas holidays always arrive with a strange mix of emotions for me. The world gets louder, brighter, fuller — and somehow, I feel quieter inside. As a revert, this season doesn’t quite belong to me anymore, but it hasn’t completely let go either. It’s a soft in-between space, and some days, it feels confusing.
I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I still show up. I spend the day with my family because I love them. After all, family matters, and because kindness doesn’t have a calendar. I sit at the table, smile through familiar conversations, and hold space for people who knew me before I became Muslim. There’s warmth in that — even if my heart walks a different path now.
Some days, I feel lost. Not in faith — never that — but in identity. Being a revert means learning how to exist between who you were and who you are becoming. You’ve found truth, yet you’re still navigating spaces that don’t fully understand that transformation. It can feel lonely, even when the room is full.
Add niqab to that, and the struggle deepens. Wearing a niqab during this season feels especially heavy. The stares. The silence. The unspoken questions. The feeling of being seen and unseen at the same time. Some days I’m strong, other days I’m tired — tired of explaining, tired of being misunderstood, tired of carrying the weight of representation when all I want is to worship Allah quietly and sincerely.
But still, I choose it. Even on the hard days.
Especially on the hard days.
Because Allah replaced what I lost with something far greater: peace. Purpose. Direction.
While others celebrate, I reflect. I thank Allah for every blessing — the obvious ones and the hidden ones. For guidance that pulled me out of confusion. For growth that came through discomfort. For the strength to stand firm even when it would be easier to blend in.
As the year closes, my heart turns toward 2026 with intention. In shā’ Allāh, it will be a year of becoming better — not perfect, just better. A better Muslim. A softer heart. Stronger iman. More consistency in worship. More sincerity in my niqab. Less people-pleasing, more Allah-pleasing.
I want to create better content too — content with purpose, honesty, and barakah. Not just posts, but reminders. Not just videos, but reflections. Content that feels real, grounded, and aligned with who I am striving to be for the sake of Allah. In shā’ Allāh, my platform becomes a form of sadaqah, not a distraction.
This season reminds me that faith isn’t about isolation — it’s about intention. I can be present without compromising who I am. I can love my family deeply while staying true to my beliefs. I can feel lost sometimes and still be exactly where Allah wants me to be.
So if you’re a revert reading this, or a niqabi struggling quietly through the holidays, you are not alone. Your journey is seen. Your effort is recorded. Your reward is with Allah.
I end this year grateful. Always grateful.
For faith over familiarity.
For growth over comfort.
For Allah, above all things. 🤍
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