My official submission to Allah (Swt) was in October 2022. Until then, I had spent most of my life private-so closed off that my emotions barely existed to the outside world. Except for happiness, I was always happy. Even if I was sad, I was always smiling. My dreams lived only in my mind, paralysed by the thought of others perceiving my efforts. So did my emotions. When I started at university, I opened up briefly only to be closed down. I think I developed an imposter syndrome there that has never truly left me.
October, 2022. Moments before I officially took my Shahada.
Since reverting, a lot has changed-not completely, but slowly. I had always prayed to God, but without a structured path, just a quiet hope. Looking back, it’s almost laughable, but as a child, I dreamed of being a monk. That was until my mother told me monks were only men and had to shave their heads. Now, my faith is disciplined, structured, and guided by the Quran.
When I reverted, suddenly, everyone wanted to know everything. Strangers pried into the most intimate details of my life before even asking my name. "Why did you revert?" "What were your habits like before Islam?" It would be overwhelming for anyone, but for someone like me, it became suffocating. I had always been a wallflower, letting my achievements speak because my own voice was quiet. In the fear of being perceived, I downplayed everything: "I have pretty much always prayed to one God." "Not much has changed about my life." But how could I sum up my twenty something years of existence to a stranger? How could I share things my own mother didn’t know or the struggles I could only beg Allah to look into my heart and understand?
Again, I was met with my inner critic. The one I developed so profusely during my recent university years. The one who demanded perfection. If I couldn’t explain myself, then I would prove myself. I absorbed knowledge like a sponge. Within months, I put on the hijab. Alhamdulillah, I have kept it on to this day. I dressed more modestly, adjusted every detail of my life to reflect my sincerity. Stopped getting my nails done. And memorised how to pray in Arabic. "Look, everyone, I am doing this right. See my actions and know my intentions are pure." But then, the real test came.
My pursuit of perfection had created an ego, without me realising it. I found myself questioning others. Why wasn’t everyone striving as I was? Why was it born Muslims are so comfortable not wearing hijab while I had deleted all my social media and faded into obscurity? Why are there boys on podcasts who held the power to share Islam but instead spoke of in vulgar terms about sisters online. Why were they not absorbing knowledge and putting it to practice fast? This judgment was foreign to me. I had never before misunderstood why people moved at different paces, and suddenly, I did. How could I be confused by others actions? Why were the actions of others suddenly so loud inside my own head? The day I reverted, I left the masjid and took off my hijab, not knowing it was an obligation, or the depth of its purpose. We all make mistakes and have points of growth and points of weakness, todays world a lot of them mistakes can end up online. I had never been super critical of other peoples mistakes, neither was their actions at the forefront of my mind before my own. I had to question myself and ask were my actions to please Allah (Swt) or to prove to others I’m worthy of being a Muslimah? That was my wake-up call.
I realised my judgments were projections of my own insecurities. Maybe it’s who I was surrounding myself with. Maybe it was that I lost so many friends after reverting. Maybe it was my fear of being called a bad muslim woman. Or maybe I was trying so hard to prove myself to my inner critic that I had lost sight of sincerity. Faith isn’t about habit; it’s about presence. I shouldn’t just put on my hijab or absorb knowledge like I would for an assignment-I should pause, reflect, and remember the meaning of all of this. On days I struggle, the only thing that keeps my faith strong is the conscious decision to turn to Allah. And my family members, none of whom are muslim, encouraging me in my journey of faith. And that, I learned, is what truly matters.
After losing friends and finding myself in a bad environment, I crumbled. In my darkest moments, I had to rebuild myself from the ground up. I had to accept that my ego had to be shattered, that being a wallflower with nothing to show in regards to my inner dreams was okay. Being the class clown or making a depreciating joke to avoid talking about my real feelings was not good enough anymore. Because now, I understand. Allah doesn’t ask for perfection. He asks for sincerity. He asks for a heart that turns back to Him, even when broken.
“O My servants who have transgressed against themselves [by sinning], do not despair of the mercy of Allah . Indeed, Allah forgives all sins. Indeed, it is He who is the Forgiving, the Merciful” [Qur'an 39:53]
What once defined me, no longer holds weight. I have started to trust that what is written for me will never miss me. Faith is no longer about flawless execution but about knowing my worth was determined long before I ever questioned it. To be more accurate, fifty thousand years ago it was written.
For so long, I stayed hidden, clinging to the comfort of the softness of my heart being unseen or the darkness that prevails me hiding deep in the shadows. But I am peeling myself off the wall now, stepping into the world with my voice, my presence. My linear path of-earning a master’s, about to climb the corporate ladder is somewhat over, it was for the longest time my only priority. To create security for my mother and my future family. Now, I want to write. To create. To be seen and heard, not for perfection, but for truth. Allah placed these passions in my heart, yet I denied them out of fear. When I crumbled, pieces of me were buried forever, but from them, something beautiful grew. A deeper faith, a trust in the long game, a willingness to embrace my imperfections. Maybe my struggles will guide someone else back to Allah. If that is my purpose, I embrace it. I trust Allah the most bountiful to provide a means for myself and for my mother and my future family.
So yeah, what I once saw as a seamless transformation into perfection has instead been a slow, ongoing journey. And that’s okay. For the first time in my life I am unlearning this perfectionist mindset I seemed to have developed in recent years. Replacing my inner critic with Tawakkul. The unwavering trust that my Creator is with me in every high and every low.
‘And whoever puts their trust in Allah, then He ˹alone˺ is sufficient for them. Certainly Allah achieves His Will. Allah has already set a destiny for everything’ [Qur’an 65:3]
And with that trust, I am finally at peace with my imperfections, no longer weighed down by the fear of being seen, because only Allah's gaze matters. We all walk our own fragile paths. Sometimes stumbling, sometimes lost-but with faith, we find the strength to build, to heal, and to keep going.
I've started sharing my work here as a way of fulfilling my promise to show up for myself and what I truly want to do. If I’m honest, I’m still struggling to be fully open, so I let my poetry veil the harsher realities buried deep inside me. But insha’Allah, with time, we will see my journey unfold.
I look forward to building a meaningful community here. One that makes du'a when they see someone from our Ummah struggling, that uplifts and supports each other’s work, and that sincerely values real stories, both in listening and in sharing.
Thanks for reading,
jeri lee xo
O Allah, guide the hearts of my family members to the straight path of Islam, open their minds to the truth, and grant them understanding of Your signs. Ameen
This is a see through reflection. It takes deep courage to accept the truth without necessarily considering other disruptive or discouraging factors. Also, this is beautifully written. Allāhuma Barrik
Smoothly written
Beautifully crafted inner thoughts on the journey towards the Ultimate truth.
This piece will be one of my favourite.
May Allah SWT bless you all the happiness in this life and hereafter.
Ameen