r/XSomalian • u/SignificanceNaive973 • 11h ago
To my fellow Somali ex-Muslims in the West, especially those who are still struggling. A few things I wish someone had told me.
F25 here. I’ve come a long way, and I wanted to share a few things I’ve learned along the way. Especially for those of you who are younger, still living at home, or struggling with guilt, shame and the feeling that you don’t really belong anywhere. Also this is gonna be a really long post.
- If you want to take off your hijab, you can. But please think about your safety first.
You don’t owe anyone a hijab, and you shouldn’t have to justify your decision to stop wearing one.
But if you’re young, financially dependent on your parents, or living in an abusive or controlling household, please be careful. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is wait until you’ve moved out and can support yourself.
I know that’s not what everyone wants to hear. Waiting can feel incredibly unfair, especially when you see people around you living freely. But your safety comes first. You don’t have to prove how brave or independent you are by putting yourself in danger.
- Stop carrying the shame of not being Muslim. You’re still Somali.
This is something I really want to emphasise.
You haven’t betrayed your people. You haven’t betrayed your ethnicity. You are not any less Somali because you no longer believe in Islam.
A lot of us were raised in environments where religion was presented as the absolute truth from the moment we were born. We weren’t exactly encouraged to question it. And when something has been taught to you your entire life, it’s completely understandable that guilt and fear don’t just disappear when you stop believing.
I remember a friend once telling me that her imaan was low and she felt guilty about it, but that the guilt was actually a good thing because it meant Allah hadn’t given up on her. According to her, people who no longer felt guilty about being distant from Allah were the ones Allah had given up on.
Think about what that teaches a person. Even feeling at peace with your own disbelief becomes something to fear.
That kind of thinking can stay with you for years.
But you don’t need to feel guilty to be a good person. And you don’t need religion to have morals, compassion or a sense of purpose.
- Please don’t replace one form of social control with another.
This is something I think some of us need to hear.
Just because you’ve left Islam doesn’t mean everyone else needs to.
If another woman wants to wear a hijab, niqab or burqa, let her. If someone finds happiness and meaning in religion, that’s their life. You don’t have to agree with their beliefs to respect their freedom to practise them.
I understand why religious clothing or certain traditions can bring up difficult feelings, especially if you were forced into them yourself. But your experience doesn’t automatically tell you what someone else’s experience is.
And social control isn’t exclusive to religion.
Even in Western societies, where individuality is celebrated, there are unwritten rules about how you’re supposed to look, behave and live. We’re told to be ourselves, but not too different. Be confident, but not arrogant. Be independent, but not selfish. Express yourself, but preferably in ways society finds acceptable.
Of course, this isn’t necessarily comparable to the coercion, threats or abuse some of us have experienced. The severity and consequences can be very different.
My point is that people everywhere are influenced by social expectations, and we should be conscious of that.
Freedom has to include the freedom to make choices we personally wouldn’t make.
- Question the parts of our culture and upbringing that we’ve been taught to accept without thinking.
I love being Somali, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with every aspect of Somali culture.
Question the idea that obedience to your parents should come before your own happiness. Question the shame attached to certain life choices. Question why family reputation sometimes seems to matter more than an individual’s wellbeing.
You can love your parents and still disagree with them.
You can appreciate the sacrifices they made and still choose a different life.
You can respect your culture without accepting every expectation that comes with it.
And please remember that gratitude is not the same as lifelong obedience.
You are your own person. Your life belongs to you.
- You only get one life. Please don’t spend all of it living for other people.
I know how difficult this can be.
You might feel sorry for your parents because you know how deeply they believe. You might worry about disappointing your siblings, losing friends or hurting people who genuinely love you.
You can have compassion for them. You can understand that their beliefs are deeply rooted in how they were raised, just like yours once were.
But you cannot live your entire life trying to protect everyone else from the discomfort of your choices.
And the same principle applies in reverse.
They have the right to believe. You have the right not to.
They have the right to live according to their religion. You have the right to live according to your own values.
Unfortunately, that respect won’t always go both ways. You might never get the acceptance you’re hoping for.
That’s painful, but you can only control your own actions. You cannot force people to understand you.
- Financial independence matters more than you might realise.
I really want younger people to understand this.
I started working at 17 and moved out at 18. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is how important it is to save money, plan ahead and become financially independent.
I know it’s easier said than done, especially if you’re living somewhere expensive like London, or if you’re still in school.
But if moving out is your goal, start preparing for it as early as you safely can.
Get a job if you’re able to. Save what you can. Try to work as much as you reasonably can without sacrificing your education. Look into student accommodation, shared flats, scholarships and other opportunities.
You might have to accept a lower standard of living than you’d ideally want at first. You might need roommates. You might have to move to a cheaper city, or even consider another country if that’s a realistic option for you.
And that’s okay. You don’t need a beautiful apartment or a perfect lifestyle immediately. You need somewhere safe where you can start building your own life.
Ialso understand that not everyone can work or save, and that some people have much bigger obstacles than others. This isn’t about blaming anyone for being stuck.
It’s about preparing where you can.
Some of us don’t have the same family safety net that other young adults can rely on. Some of us know that making certain choices could mean losing financial support or even contact with our families.
That’s why having your own money, your own documents, and a realistic plan can make such a difference.
And please, think carefully about coming out as an ex-Muslim, queer, or anything else your family might strongly reject while you’re still dependent on them.
Ask yourself whether you’re safe, what the consequences might be, and whether waiting until you’re independent would be better for you.
You don’t owe anyone a public declaration of who you are. Living authentically doesn’t mean telling everyone everything about yourself.
- Be patient and kind to yourself. It takes time.
Many of us were taught these beliefs from such a young age that they became part of how we understood ourselves and the world.
You might stop believing intellectually long before you stop feeling afraid emotionally.
You might still feel guilty about things you no longer believe are wrong. You might still catch yourself worrying about hell, judgement or disappointing your family.
That doesn’t mean you’re weak or that you’ve made the wrong decision.
Unlearning years of conditioning takes time. Sometimes years.
You don’t have to figure everything out immediately. You don’t have to have a perfect answer to every religious argument. You don’t have to turn being an ex-Muslim into your entire identity.
Give yourself permission to grow at your own pace.
And finally, a little about where I am now.
I’m 25, and I’ve come a long way.
I’m not particularly interested in publicly announcing that I’m an ex-Muslim. For me personally, it would create unnecessary drama, and I don’t feel the need to make my disbelief a central part of my identity.
What matters most to me is autonomy.
I want to live according to my own values, make my own decisions and build a life that I’m genuinely happy with.
And that’s what I’m doing.
But I won’t pretend there haven’t been consequences.
I don’t have many Muslim or Somali friends anymore. In some ways, I feel quite distant from my own culture, which is sad because being Somali is still part of who I am.
It’s difficult to feel connected to a community when you know that certain parts of your identity or life choices might not be accepted.
I wish it were different.
But I’ve also learned that belonging doesn’t have to mean fitting into the community you were born into. You might find other Somalis who understand you. You might find people from completely different backgrounds who become your family.
You will find your people, even if it takes time.
And I want to say one last thing: I understand that some of you are in situations far more difficult than mine. Some of you are still hiding, still financially dependent, still afraid of what might happen if your family finds out.
I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t want to pretend that becoming independent is easy.
But please don’t give up on the possibility of having a life that feels like your own.
You deserve the freedom to decide what you believe, who you love, what you wear and what kind of future you want.
And remember that the freedom you’re fighting for is also something you should extend to others.
Lastly: Don’t let being an ex-Muslim become your entire identity.
I understand the anger, resentment and even hatred some people feel towards Islam, especially if religion has caused them trauma or taken away parts of their freedom. Those feelings are valid, and everyone processes their experiences differently.
But I think it’s worth asking yourself something: if you spend so much of your time and energy hating Islam, arguing against it and thinking about everything that’s wrong with it, are you truly free from it? Or is it still controlling a huge part of your life, just in a different way?
There’s nothing wrong with criticising religion or speaking out against harmful practices. But don’t forget to actually live the life you fought so hard to have.
You are so much more than the religion you left behind.
Being a Somali ex-Muslim isn’t always easy. I see you, I understand more than you might think, and I’m rooting for you. ❤️