Author Archive

Modern Feminisms

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Modern Feminisms

I recently read an article which brought to mind how Islam deals with women. All these years, women have been trying to please themselves, men, the world – all unattainable pleasures, whereas they don’t realize the immense rights they have been given by Allah Himself, the Supreme Creator, through the Qur’an and Sunnah. In the end, the only One we can truly please is Allah Himself – by obeying His Commands. According to the article, women are now back to the point of being used for their bodies and now it’s okay since they “allow” it.

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They Were Shaken

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They Were Shaken

Lately, my articles have been Qur’an based and subhanAllah, I just cannot stop. It’s like every time I open my Juz to review a lesson, reminisce, or just for a read, I pick up a new lesson and just want to share. Here’s another one. In Suraht al-Baqarah, verse 214, Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala says, “Do you think that you will enter paradise (without any trials) while you have known the examples of those who passed away before you?”

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Muslim ID

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Muslim ID

In Surat al-Baqarah Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala mentions a story of Bani Israel. They asked for a leader so they could fulfill their rights and Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala gave them one – Talut, the best of the kind – yet, they didn’t appreciate him. This story reminded me of each one of us – our inner struggles. Our number one du’aa is to be granted Jannah. We want Jannah and we ask for it all the time, but do we do what is necessary to attain it?

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Musa and the Rock

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Musa and the Rock

When we think of role models for hijab or hayaa, who do we usually think of? We tend to think of women we know or have heard about: our moms, sisters, aunts, daughters, friends; the Sahaabiyaat, or the Wives of the Prophet, may Allah be pleased with them. But what about a Prophet, a man, a slave of Allah, as a role model for hayaa?

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A Dose of Regret

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A Dose of Regret

We had been home for a little over a month when we got the call. I remember sitting in my room when my Dad came to the door. SubhanAllah, how time seems to slow down at that moment. I saw my brother crying – and thinking he doesn’t cry like that, what’s wrong – and my Dad’s voice breaking as he attempted to relay the news. And the shock. The incomprehensible-ness. Dead? He’s dead? But we just spent a summer with him while he was alive?

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