The Hayaa Oasis

When is granting autonomy and freedom too much for your child? Is there a moment in our parenting journey where we need to ask ourselves if taking control becomes counterproductive to their iman or critical and neccessary for the sake of it?

Weekly Writes written by Umm Idris. 25.07.25, 12:00pm.

I spent a lot of time wondering if tapping into the deeper caves of my mind was a good idea. Some would argue it is scratching the surface of unresolved childhood experiences, others would conclude that one is simply reflecting and finding ways to make sense of what has passed in order to be better, and to be grow our own potential. I am partial to agree with the latter. Our life’s experiences are gifts from Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) regardless of how positive or negative they were in its entirety. During the time it happened, my naïve ignorant self may have been convinced that it was a punishment from Him or simply just the unfortunate hand I was dealt. Today, I most certainly believe there is a reason for all that we lived through.

Do not get me wrong, at the youthful age I am, I won’t begin to claim that I have lived through enough to be giving a life’s worth full of wisdom just yet, but I can most definitely share with you my shifted perspective of reality and worldview that I can only hope would either inspire or provoke you. If I had to put explain my childhood in a sentence, I would say, “Growing up, I always felt like I wasn’t the cookie-cutter turn out my parents anticipated.”

In recent years, I attributed this to the non-conforming upbringing my siblings and I were given. While the typical child had a set of healthy parents who encouraged the typical academic routes, our father was braver in considering the alternative. At least, that is how we try to perceive his directions to be. Very quickly he molded his eldest daughters into self-made businesswomen and pushed the second two (son and daughter) into Islamic academic pursuits. Be damned the considerations of a degree, diploma or even ‘O’ level qualifications. Life, to him, is what you take into your hands and make it out to be. Sometimes, I wonder if his own academic stride was what made him confident that qualifications are irrelevant in a world where there is always the unconventional route. Now interestingly while my siblings succeed and excelled in their life over the years, my mother’s death stopped his tenacity in remaining involved in his children’s lives short. Right smacked in the middle of my early years of education, I found myself with an overabundance of freedom for choice as opposed to the rest of his offsprings.

Now, how often does an Asian parent truly let go of the reigns and leave the matter of life’s choice in the hands of an uncertain, hesitant teen still daydreaming in her days, who have yet to achieve the appropriate level of self-actualization in her deen? Not very often back in those days, I can tell you that. Very quickly I found myself incredibly insecure of my choices and afraid of making any bold moves. The heavy reliance I had in the young wisdom and valuable opinions of my elder siblings ironically deterred me from gaining any insight nor confidence of any kind at every turn. I found myself deep in the belly of needing parental guidance more than most children would prefer.

I won’t lie. I found myself swayed by the arts and the thrill of the romanticized nature of theatre and drama, mainly because I couldn’t find the confidence in myself that I could amount to anything other than fitting my odd self into the avant-garde world who welcome the… eccentric and oddities. It was mainly because it was often repeated to me that I was ‘dramatic’ and ‘expressive’, that I was heavy in my assertions and insistence, and never really anything else that may encourage me to pursue any other paths or routes. And so, for some years I did exactly that, after giving it one final shot trying find my way through the college route like every other person. In the haze of being seduced by the theatric world, I quietly discovered just how poisonous it truly was to be amongst they who have no knowledge of their Creator or be the very Muslims who have lost themselves in this dunya.

There were several other Muslim girls, you see. Two of them were not in headscarves, nor actively conscious of the awrah. Two others were in headscarves, one being a student who recently graduated from the madrasah lifestyle, and another … let’s say… modernised Muslimah. The freshly exposed into the freemixing world began her diploma journey in the most modest of attires, gentle in nature and carried herself with grace, abiding by her childhood instilled akhlak that I found mesmerizing and pleasing to the soul. The modernised in headscarf found herself in a mixture of confusion: often in skintight attires, heavy in perfume and make-up, brazen in manner among other boys and carried an air of sexuality that felt frictious to her Islamic representation. While the rest of many were headless chickens ran around dressed completely inappropriate for their hayaa and modesty, you could say that these two – one clearly more than the other – carried the rallying flag for what should be taken into consideration everyday: the command of the hijab.

Fast forward a little under a decade later, I came across the modernised Muslim girl on social media and found myself shocked at the realisation that she had removed her headscarf. She, like every other in the same class as us, had apparently stayed in contact and become incredibly close to many of them (a string of non-Muslims of various religious histories, LGBTQ+ members and supporters, astrology and/or numerology enthusiasts, tarot-reading believers and advocates, openly sexually-active persons, etc) and when asked (by me) about her choice, she shut down my attempt to connect or guide her before blocking me on social media (I clarify that I had barely said no more than a single sentence before her defensive nature revealed itself). Not months later, I discovered that the one with a history of madrasah had long ago taken hers off as well and was living her life much like the other. There is clearly more to the stories of them, and experiences in conversations that I have had with them, but the conclusion to their lifestyle change was simple: the circle they allowed themselves to indulge in this dunya. I reflected on my younger years and continue to find myself incredibly blessed that Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) never took away the one friend I cherish with my heart who stayed for over a decade by my side in those years and better years to quickly represent the right practice of Islam and the model the proper conduct of a Muslimah. Had it not been her, I am convinced that I would have been lost in those waters long before my husband found me and truly guided me. Alhamdulillah.

But I digress. In those academic years, I experienced the strangest of worlds that seemed so progressive and normal at the time. I had male classmates, some of whom were also gays who would enthusiastically share they sexual tales with me. There were girls of boisterous nature, especially amongst the boys, and very little physical boundaries. Being a member in an extra-curriculum in the vocal arts only made it worse. The social circle was normalized with freemixing until the incredibly late hours, very public interrelationships that turned sexual or romantic, and the hurricanes of slanders and backbiting. For a Muslims, it was as though they were handed the all-free pass to this world. That would have frightened any mahram responsible for me if they were made aware of it.

 Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) as my Al-Wali, I firmly believe that if it was not for Him, I would have drowned in those thunderous waters during those years of ignorance. Despite being in the center of a world made with fitnah, I remained diligent in my tawheed. Despite my shortcomings in ibadah, He never closed the doors of belief from me and kept the fear of His wrath in my mind, preventing me from the worst of sins that could have corrupted me entirely. It was as if Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) knew that my father had let go in grief too much and that I needed what little mercy He could offer me. The truth was bitter: I was alone, and I had no idea He was with me that whole time.

Graduating from that rut was the greatest mercy for me. Very quickly, it felt like Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) arranged from me to be kept away from the worst of influences. They who claim to be friendly with me disappeared from my life entirely almost too quickly, and I was brought closer to my siblings in physical proximity as I contemplate my next move in my studies. I was, at the time, all too shaken by the aggressively bold display of sins that surrounded me in those years. With enough traumatic experiences and earth-shattering realisation in my pocket, I was more than eager to frantically swim away from the edge of the cliff. But the truth is, those years chasing a diploma that offered barely any benefit to my life today only taught me one thing: Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) threw me into that pit not because I was sinning and disobeying the commands of the hijab or falling incredibly short in my ibadah. No. It was a great merciful warning to me that if I kept on the path I did and surrounded myself with these people I had build relationships with, I would march my way with them into the blistering fires of Jahannam hand-in-hand.

The two Muslim girls’ stories and hijab journeys were the glaringly clarifying examples of how the people around you will shape your mind and who you are. They will influence and curate your thoughts as you progress in life. It is true what they say, “We are who we surround ourselves with.” The unfiltered experiences of freemixing and tale-sharing between non-mahrams only cemented the reality of how easily men can corrupt you at the snap of an alluring moment. And my exposure to any non-heterosexual person any such scales only confirmed my fright of ever going against the commands of Allah (subhana wa ta’ala). It only took a parent being too trusting in letting his reigns go. What more that of a mahram. Dare I say, my father may have been blessed by Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) to not be tested beyond those extremely dangerous boundaries with his children.

You see, in those years, I found no answer in who I wish to become. If anything, I found myself navigating perilous waters filled with every parent’s worst nightmare. There is a line between encouraging autonomy and neglectful parental guidance and supervision. I was the few who were lucky to have not been swallowed into the traps of dunya, but so many others amongst us were not so lucky. Out of curiosity, I looked on social media for the people I have met over the years. From the time I turned a teenager till the day I migrated with my husband. It turned into a somber discovery, at every profile click and public browsing. Much like what many homeschooling advocates keep crying about, the realities of secular mainstreamed education have robbed parents (of all religious backgrounds and ethnicities) the possibility of shaping the character and conduct of their children the way they believe best. While the economy slams them into the ground against their will, the governments all over the world offers their ideals of what upbringing and learning should be as the solution, while profiting off keeping the working class forever working to the bone and eternally busy with jobs that would replace them in a heartbeat at the news of their inevitable death.

Some of us would be tested with parents who grieve their lost partner and never really coming back into their parental roles after while others face a plethora of challenges like misaligned worldviews, outdated disciplinary approaches, a severance in emotional connections, etc. There are just too many a reason for parents letting go at the wrong moment in time or simply letting go the wrong way or just too much. The victims are not just the children, but the parents themselves. I have yet to think of a single possible way for us to rectify such a trending matter outside addressing the detrimental urgent need for us Muslims to fall back into seeking guidance from Allah (subhana wa ta’ala) and looking to the examples and stories of how the Prophet (salallahu ‘alaihi wassalam) and his Companions raised and guided their young. We are challenged by the current times, the influences of this dunya and the incredibly access our children get at the tap of a button. It is all so disconcerting that parents are being hit with a billion challenges in raising the best of Muslims all the while being tested by the trials and tribulations the living generations bring. If the Prophet (salallahu ‘alaihi wassalam) was still alive, what advice would you be desperate to seek from him in this regard?