Urban Modesty Queens

ABOUT US I’m a Mother of Six. A Wife. A Fashion Lover. A Muslim Woman. A Dreamer. And I’ve been trying to do it all—while reminding myself why, its for Allah. Starting a company while raising six kids has been the battle of my life. It’s chaotic. It’s humbling. It’s exhausting. But it’s also the most soul-fulfilling journey I’ve ever been on, and I’m grateful for it. As a Muslim woman in America, I’ve always known becoming modest wasn’t going to be easy. But I never thought it would feel so lonely.  I didn’t wear hijab until I was 20.  Even then I struggled dressing modestly. Shopping for modest cloth didn’t help either.  There were so many times I stood in dressing rooms angry. I’d find a piece I wanted to love—only to realize it had a plunging neckline, or the fabric was so sheer I’d need to layer three things underneath just to step outside. I’d walk out thinking, Why is it so hard to find something that covers me and still lets me feel beautiful?  Why are Zara, H&M, and so many other brands pushing society to undress and that modesty is oppressive? We’re out here raising babies, nursing toddlers, running errands, attending meetings, holding down jobs, running businesses—and in the middle of it all, we’re still trying to uphold our modesty, not just as a style choice, but as an act of worship. Modesty is part of our ‘ibadah. It’s not a trend. It’s not optional. It’s our identity. Our dignity. But the world we live in doesn’t always understand that. We’ve all felt that awkward tension—the stares at the grocery store, the subtle looks in job interviews, the discomfort when you walk into a room and your hijab makes people quiet down. Even today, headlines blast terrible experiences: ➡ “Muslim woman denied job for wearing hijab.” ➡ “School bans headscarf in sports.” ➡ “Mother says she was asked to ‘remove that thing’ during airport screening.” And we’re just expected to brush it off. Keep going. Smile through it. But I wanted something more than survival. I wante