The Ramadan buzz is in the air, with the month of fasting beginning this weekend and bringing a sense of joy, togetherness and fulfilment.
For some of us, there's also anxiety – will I be able to do this? – along with excitement and last-minute runs to the supermarket. Cupboards, fridges and freezers in Muslim households world over are being stocked and meal planning for the month is under way.
All this while we reflect on the holier aspects of the month, including thinking of those who do not have enough food on the table during any month of the year. Ramadan is a time to focus on faith and discipline.
It's also about cutting back on indulgence, of simplicity and a reallocation of time to spiritual and communal pursuits. But often, for women these bring even more paradoxes: love for traditions to be upheld, but exhaustion created by additional work. Cherishing the roles we play during the month, but wishing it wasn’t taken for granted. Finding meaning in giving to those we love and supporting their spiritual journey and pursuits at the expense of our own.
I often joke that in Ramadan, many of us get to be "peak Muslim", but the implications of that are that the challenges also reveal themselves in the most acute way, if only we care to look.
Ramadan isn’t observed in a one-size-fits-all manner. For some women, it’s a joyful time of shared labour and spiritual connection. For others, it’s a juggling act between demanding jobs, childcare, and late-night prayers. Some are single mothers observing Ramadan alone, while other households share responsibilities equitably.
It is worth pausing to ask, what does Ramadan reveal about power in society?
Power should be about dignity, recognition of humanity and our advocacy and actions in a world that affects others and shapes our own trajectory.
There are men who step up as equal partners, single fathers, and families where traditional gender roles have shifted. And there are women who love the role they play during Ramadan but still feel the weight of expectation.
The point isn’t whether women should or should not manage Ramadan in traditional ways – but that women should decide for themselves and be aware that the power in being the chief architect of Ramadan needs to be named – by everyone, especially women.
I know several women feel that they disappear into Ramadan having to deal with hangry menfolk, the societal pressure to perform perfect iftars and to be Instagram-ready – and yes, women put pressure on themselves too.
This female experience of Ramadan has my attention every year. I even address the notion of the power of women in my podcast, Muslim Women Talk Ramadan.
In a world of increasing strong man archetypes, how do we recognise different forms of power, locating power wisely, compassionately, in ourselves, our homes and in public spaces?
Ramadan is clearly and unequivocally a divine gift. What I’m discussing is opening our eyes and identifying who is running the practicalities of Ramadan, and doing the things that we associate with its everyday experiences.
Setting boundaries isn’t selfish or a modern deviation. It is the real-life application of the discipline of Ramadan, which is all about boundaries. And women have as much right to those boundaries and the naming and exercise of the power they wield as anyone else.
Women’s boundaries can and should ensure that their own spiritual needs are met and their dignity and recognition acknowledged alongside their responsibilities – just like anyone else.
Ramadan isn’t just about what happens inside the home. It’s also about who gets to be seen, heard and included in public spaces. The questions can then be like: Why wouldn’t I lead a Ramadan charity initiative? Why wouldn’t I be part of public Ramadan discussions? Why wouldn’t I go to the mosque to pray? Why wouldn’t I take my children to prayer spaces to pray with me?
There may of course be practical reasons, but in principle, naming where power can be unlocked – even if it’s not right for us at the time – is the essence of Ramadan, the peak Muslim moment that sets us up for the next 12 months.
The positive effects of leaning into women’s power is that it grows when it’s acknowledged, named and protected. The more we name women’s role in Ramadan, the more women’s impact is recognised. The more boundaries are set, the more the experiences are valued – often something women need to do more of themselves.
The classic pushbacks to women naming their power, identifying and setting their own terms are about creating discomfort or shame for women, or failing in their duties. In discomfort, it’s helpful to ask: "Am I OK with that?"
Naming the power of women in Ramadan? I’m OK with that.
