Assalamu alaykum Lillah
I'm Maryam Morales
In 2009,I started my own business while I was married. I did this to bring in extra income in order to cover expenses while juggling the kids. Like many, I started doing social media management for small businesses. I offered a free trial, and if they liked it, they’d stay on with me for a monthly retainer.
Alhamdulillah, it grew slowly… until I landed a decent-sized retainer with a clinical franchise — we’ll call them Medics & Co.
The owner, a practicing clinician, handed me a few branches to cover. I ran their Facebook ads, promoted specials, wrote copy — all while bouncing a toddler on my hip and answering messages in-between diaper changes.
It was crazy… Especially in 2010…
I was on a call with the owner of Medics & Co. — an informal business meeting — when suddenly, my 3-year-old son, who we are calling Khidr, came towards me. He had just gotten a diagnosis for his condition… While having this professional call he stabbed me in the leg with a butter knife.
Yes.
A butter knife.
I screamed. Dropped the phone.
He wasn’t trying to hurt me out of malice — but I was his full-time carer, and he had no access to appropriate schooling. The hospital hadn’t placed him on any waiting lists. And I couldn’t afford private intervention.
His father worked remotely, but his job meant I had to keep our son away from him at all times — quiet, out of his workspace, out of trouble. Except… Khidr was like a live wire. I was working on my laptop, getting smacked in the face with bottles, strangled with cords, headbutted, or smothered with pillows.
He was like that butler in Pink Panther. You know the one? Always attacking Inspector Clouseau for training. That was my daily life.
Except it wasn’t a movie, and there was no off button.
I was constantly putting out fires — dragging Khidr off his sibling, cleaning up poop messes before someone got pink eye, fixing the curtain he yanked off the rail.
My eye was twitching. My heart would cramp from stress.
But I got the job done.
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Between 2010 and 2012
The marriage crumbled and buckled under too many challenges.
We split. Expenses doubled. I was now juggling solo my “Tasmanian devil” of a son who was also a graffiti artist.
But I found a crèche that at least gave me half a day where Khidr was doing well.
I could focus during that time. Work.
I sent leads to branches, dealt with complaints, and tightened their online presence.
The owner of Medics & Co. initially told me the ads were working, but later informed me they weren’t. The company had over 20 branches, yet the advertising budget only covered four. He eventually brought in another company to build a better website and take over Google Ads. However, both the Google and Facebook ad budgets remained limited.
Eventually, things plateaued. Then the owner decided to revamp the Facebook strategy and bring in a Virtual Assistant to handle lead responses and do online estimates on behalf of the clinicians. At this point, my role evolved from basic social media management into virtual assistance. I began spending more time engaging with clients while also juggling other work to make ends meet — all while caring for my children, one of whom had a condition.
During this time, I was extremely busy. I directed all leads to the appropriate branches, provided clients with the information they needed, handled complaints, and helped resolve issues for existing clients. I also worked on strengthening the company’s online presence — a major task, given the number of clinics and the fact that various pages and sites had already been set up by others.
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2012 to 2013
During the school holidays, I was invited by the owner of the company to join him and his inner circle at his home. This arrangement was convenient for me, as I could bring along my special needs child, Khidr. While Khidr didn’t directly play with the doctor’s many children, he moved around near them while they were supervised in a separate room by a nanny.
At the meeting, I was questioned about the leads. Despite my consistent efforts, there were doubts about whether the leads I was sending to the clinics were actually being booked. I was handed the unrealistic task of following up on these bookings myself. In response, I suggested organising a larger staff meeting to offer training and improve the process. The owner agreed, but also made a remark that, even though I had only one child, Khidr was "like four kids in one."
At that time, I had taken Khidr out of the crèche to potty train him and couldn’t afford to pay someone to nanny him for the day. As a result, I had no choice but to bring him with me to the training session. I had prepared my speech and lesson, but Khidr insisted on standing beside me throughout, distracting me completely. I ended up cutting my session short and took him into another room until the event concluded.
The owner was unhappy with how the training session turned out but didn’t clearly express what his issues were to the rest of the team who were also in the dog box. I apologised for my part, and while he said he understood my situation, the support I needed was never provided. In hindsight, he had hired me for a dual role — as both a virtual assistant and social media manager — at a rate that was 40% below the industry standard, while still expecting extra responsibilities without proper structure or assistance.
Yes, I could have brought in additional income from other businesses or clients, but realistically, when? I had effectively become an employee without a formal contract — only a loose agreement — while the workload kept growing.
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Ongoing Challenges (Peak Season)
I continued juggling multiple online consulting projects while trying to keep up with the flood of leads sent to the various branches. Each enquiry involved lengthy conversations—quoting estimates, answering follow-up questions, and resolving general issues—so my days were packed from dawn to dusk.
To cope, I built an efficient system that triaged new leads and saved time, all while potty-training Khidr. Unfortunately, this was peak season: emergencies surged just as many staff members went on holiday. On top of everything, I had to wash soiled clothes and bedding continuously. One day, water pooled on the patio; I slipped, fell, and was badly bruised, taking days to recover.
The “Business Analysis” Meeting
Amid this chaos, the owner of Medics & Co. scheduled a meeting run by a man who introduced himself as a “Business Analyst,” with a newly hired HR representative in tow. Because I still couldn’t afford childcare, Khidr had to come with me again.
The format was a round-table: each person shared their highs, lows, strengths, and weaknesses. Although my official role was a junior-level Virtual Assistant handling some social-media channels, I was questioned as if I were the Marketing and Media Manager. I owned my struggles—most of which could have been solved by a fair pay rise—and even praised the owner for his charitable initiatives he often mentioned.
My compliments, however, seemed to inflate his ego. Whether he misunderstood the scope of my work, suspected I was taking advantage, or simply equated humility with weakness, his attitude shifted. Whatever the reason, the disconnect between responsibility and remuneration—and the lack of practical support—remained unresolved.
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2013 to 2014
I finally got Khidr potty trained and enrolled him in a private school—one that drained me financially. Still, I believed that with him in school full-time, I could grow my business and raise more income. Around this time, I was given performance targets and asked to assist with Damage Control, in addition to my usual responsibilities of handling estimates, boosting ads for specials and client queries.
The owner began requesting that I visit certain branches in person, some of which were a 45-minute drive away. I spent most of the day at these branches, engaging with staff while managing other tasks from my phone. With the owner’s permission, I used part of the marketing budget to cover Uber fares, as I still hadn’t received a pay increase—even while my living costs continued to rise. A third of my total income was going straight to Khidr’s school fees and his transport.
The owner was fully aware of my financial situation. I repeatedly made it clear that I was willing to take on additional work for additional pay. Instead, there was a constant expectation that I "prove myself" first. He dangled the possibility of appointing me as Media Marketing Manager, but only if I met all my targets.
So, rather than expanding my own business or onboarding new clients, I committed my focus entirely to meeting Medic & Co.’s needs. The so-called Business Analyst advised me to pause any major marketing efforts until he “sorted out the branches.” I complied, met all the targets within three months, and then contacted the owner to formalise the arrangement and request a contract.
He ghosted me.
I followed up with the new HR representative, who vaguely acknowledged it and said he’d “look into it”—but ultimately, nothing ever came of it.
I took my son out of his school because the fees were crippling me. By Allah’s Grace I soon found a far cheaper school only three minutes’ walk from home. The head-teacher knew so much about his condition that she even lectured on it at the university.
At work, I had hit a ceiling with Medic & Co. and decided not to pour in more effort when there was clearly no future there. That didn’t mean I was idle:
Every day I spent at least an hour handling complaints—investigating, then calming clients with workable solutions.
I created and managed paid-media “specials” and put together the marketing strategy.
Because the budget was tiny, I partnered with another IT-and-marketing firm to grow our online presence organically. It worked: WhatsApp leads kept rising.
Head Office, however, insisted I spend extra time capturing data to “prove” the results—while they paid me the same rate I’d had since 2011.
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The showdown with the “Business Analyst”
Eventually the so-called Business Analyst (let’s call him Dud) summoned me to a branch for a meeting with HR. He tried to strong-arm me with a quote he had obtained from another company. For context (2013 prices):
Role / service
What I was paid
Virtual assistant (medical consulting, damage control/HR, social-media management, all branch enquiries)
R 6 500
Facebook & Google Ads management
R 3 000
Total to me
R 9 500
The assisting IT-marketing firm charged R 4 200.
So the entire marketing budget—including my VA “salary”—was R 13 700.
Dud claimed a “top-tier” agency would do all of that plus a VA call centre, website, Google Ads and every social platform for just R 4 500. It sounded absurd, so I asked for their contact details (which he reluctantly gave), all while he criticised me for “working from bed on WhatsApp” and moaned about “missing stats”.
Remember, he was the one who had earlier told me to slow down our marketing efforts. Now he wanted me to speed up because “the company is bleeding money”.
When I pointed out that I had no employment contract—or even a Service Delivery Agreement—despite asking for one, he could barely meet my gaze. He told the new HR officer to draft an SDA for me and hurried out.
The real numbers
I never did receive that Service Delivery Agreement—but I did secure the actual quote from the agency Dud bragged about.
Their fee was R 45 000, not R 4 500. Dud had simply lopped off a zero.
The agency added that competitors in our sector were spending at least R 15 000 a month (on Google Ads alone), and they were stunned by our owner’s expectations.
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Moving the goalposts
At the next meeting I produced the real figure. Dud dodged the issue, saying he needed “tangible data” before he could act.
Fine—so did I, if I was meant to operate as a marketing strategist while earning a junior VA wage.
The owner agreed the ads were working but told me to “manage the IT-and-marketing team better” and announced I’d now report to a newly promoted operations manager. Translation: work like a marketing head, continue to get paid like an entry-level VA.
Juggling life and a lopsided job
I was already:
Supporting other clients to keep food on the table.
Parenting a special-needs child who was home early, pulling me away from my work every few minutes.
Acting as customer-service ninja—fielding queries, calming complaints, delegating to branches—mostly from my phone while cooking, cleaning, and breaking up sibling brawls.
Now they expected hours of extra ‘head-space’ to mine branch statistics and draft new strategies—just to prove the marketing was working and maybe earn a raise.
The phishing fiasco
While rescuing one branch’s Facebook page from suspension, I fell for a fake “Facebook” message. The scammers hijacked my main profile; our ads account was held hostage as well.
With help from our IT/media partners and my own clients (who still had access), I recovered control and opened a fresh profile to safeguard the ad budgets. Total downtime: about ten days.
Stats nobody read
Dud, in full “big-business” costume, demanded to know why the numbers weren’t ready. I reminded him I had just cleaned up a cyber-crime to protect the company.
The reports came to him a few days later. He never responded—he punted them to HR, who couldn’t interpret them without my hand-holding.
Bottom line (as confirmed by the IT/media team): we were steadily growing the company’s online presence on a shoestring budget.
What I really needed to demonstrate ROI was up-to-date data on each branch’s capacity and footfall—plus a proper contract, a defined role, and pay that matched the work.
The chase, the meltdown, and the meeting
I had been discussing a more effective lead-tracking funnel with the IT and media team, and had also spoken to the new Operations lead about this and other plans. We agreed to meet in person at the branch near the local mall.
It was nearing the end of the school year, so I had no choice but to bring my son along. At this point, I was still doing extra work—again, with no raise—while juggling motherhood. He had recently developed a strange but temporary phobia of clinics and pharmacies. The moment we arrived at the medical centre, he refused to enter. I put my bag down for a moment—and he bolted.
He ran out of the mall, across a dry open field, heading toward a squatter camp where there was a fire. I chased him, my chest pounding. When I caught up, he flung himself onto the sandy ground and refused to budge. A few homeless people—some clearly high—stood nearby watching.
I was exhausted, gasping for air, and trying to lift a child in full meltdown mode. He wouldn’t move. I gave up. Then suddenly, in the middle of his emotional storm, he brightened and chirped, “Ice cream?”
Still breathless, I said, “Yes. Let’s go get ice cream.”
He stood up, and we walked back to the mall together.
As I struggled to catch my breath, a stranger asked why I wasn’t holding his hand. I ignored her. It wasn’t her business.
The meeting that became a restaurant rescue
I ducked into the branch to quickly grab my bag—only for him to run off again. Thankfully, bystanders pointed me in the right direction. I finally caught up to him and took him to the nearest family steakhouse. I needed somewhere—anywhere—that would keep him contained and calm.
I called the operations manager and asked her to meet me there instead. We had our meeting over a table while he ate his ice cream.
Another family sat next to us and gently offered understanding. They also had a child on the autism spectrum and suggested I try tissue salts. It was an unexpectedly comforting exchange.
Strategy paused
Eventually, we finalised a revised strategy with the IT/media team, though it would come at a slightly higher cost. We prepared to justify the spend in a meeting with the owner.
But then I was told to put everything on hold: the holiday season was starting, branches were closing, and the owner was heading off on vacation.
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2014
That summer was rough. Many branches were closed, others had limited hours, and I was left juggling emergency cases while also trying to promote locations where staff were unreliable—disappearing mid-shift and dropping leads. On top of it all, I had other work and my son to care for.
By January, I was completely drained—meanwhile, everyone else was returning from their holidays, including the owner and his wife. She messaged me out of the blue to take on an extra task: placing newspaper ads. I was hesitant. I didn’t have the capacity, and I certainly wasn’t willing to do even more work for peanuts. She didn’t seem to understand—or care.
At the same time, my son had just started at a new, inclusive school. But he couldn’t attend without me physically sitting in class with him. I told head office I was available to work virtually, but phone calls would be difficult. Most client interactions were happening on WhatsApp anyway.
We’d just managed to arrange a nanny when the owner suddenly and angrily insisted that I come into head office.
What he didn’t know was that I was already in the process of applying for another job—one that paid decently, only required in-person attendance twice a week, and gave clear, achievable targets. That possibility was in the back of my mind as he sat across from me, berating me.
He claimed the marketing wasn’t working, said he didn’t want “gradual growth,” and insisted that even the meagre salary I was being paid was too much. He ranted about the fact that I hadn’t placed newspaper ads, was vague about what targets he actually wanted, and made the absurd claim that he could drive a flood of traffic to a single branch using the same Google Ads budget via a newspaper ad that had split across 25 branches.
He demanded to know how many leads came in for one branch back in November. I didn’t have the number off-hand, and he snapped that, as “Head of Marketing,” I should know this. That left me stunned. When was I ever made Head of Marketing?
Then he asked HR to leave the meeting so he could tell me privately that the real reason he didn’t want to invest in me was because I “had too many personal problems”—meaning my child. I replied that a higher salary could’ve solved that: private school, better care, the help I needed. But he wasn’t interested.
Instead, he ranted about how he “hated excuses.” Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he began badmouthing the signage guy, expressing anger that the man had delayed an installation because his sister had died and attended her funeral.
At that point, I was disgusted. I told him plainly that I didn’t approve of what he was saying. From an Islamic standpoint, he had no right to speak about the signage guy like that.
I tried to defend myself by listing all the work I’d done—how I’d even covered for him while he was away—but he cut me off. Wouldn’t let me speak. Finally, he threw me out with a curt, “No, I’m fighting with staff today. Just leave!”
What a pig.
From this point on, I’ll refer to him as Dr Khinzīr.
The next day, I messaged him, hoping he’d cooled off. He had. I reminded him of his actual budget—something he had completely lost touch with. Since he wanted a “flood” of leads for one branch, I asked whether he wanted the entire boosting budget to go there, as it was currently being spread too thin across other branches.
But then he got distracted.
Fresh from Umrah and high on performative piety, he asked me to add the Kalimat Shahadah to his logo. I didn’t object, though I did think it would be more meaningful if it was written on his heart and reflected in his actions.
After all his tantrums and superficial religiosity, it became clear: his Umrah wasn’t for Allah SWT. It was for his ego.
When the Mask Slipped Further
So after Umrah, Dr Khinzīr suddenly wanted the Kalimat Shahadah on his logo.
But the secular IT and media company he hired talked him out of it.
One of them even pulled me aside and asked, “Why did he come back from Saudi so hot-headed, and now suddenly wants Islamic declarations on his branding?”
To them, it seemed like extremism—and honestly, can you blame them?
I couldn’t gossip about “my boss,” but I also couldn’t let them walk away with the wrong impression of Islam. So, I chose my words carefully.
I told them, “Most Muslims come back from Hajj or Umrah softer… more gracious, more grounded—after such a spiritually intense journey. I’m not sure what happened in this case.”
And I left it at that.
Then came the infamous “Fun Day” he organised for all the branches at the beach.
I didn’t go.
I had no intention of pretending I was part of that team, and honestly, I was too busy—still holding the fort as always.
Behind the scenes, I continued working with the IT and media guys on funnels. I was still handling general admin, marketing over 20 branches with a near-nonexistent budget.
And somehow, the workload kept growing.
Meanwhile, Dr Khinzīr got worse.
More arrogant. More publicly disrespectful. He would put me down in meetings, treat me like a digital waitress, and expect work done late into the evenings.
Then I found out something infuriating: the staff weren’t even booking the leads I generated.
When I confronted them, they ignored me. I was “just the VA”—not management.
What mattered to them was getting commission on five-star reviews, which, let’s be honest, could easily be faked with bots. So he was paying them… for nothing.
And me?
He paid me a low entry virtual assistant’s wage—but expected the output of an entre marketing department.
That meant I was the media strategist, the content creator, the campaign manager, the copywriter, the social media scheduler, the analytics tracker, the client responder—and sometimes even HR.
Imagine walking into a restaurant, paying 40% less for a starter, then demanding the full main course for free… plus dessert and coffee every five minutes—and expecting it all to be hot, perfect, and immediate.
That’s what it felt like.
And to put it in perspective: his competitors were spending five times more just on Google Ads for one branch than what he allocated for all 25 of his branches combined.
I was managing the visibility of 25 clinics on less than the ad budget of one. And still, results were expected on demand.
Then they dumped more work on me.
His wife would call and hold me up for half an hour.
Operations pestered me every day.
Staff would call or message me constantly needing help.
Doctors contacted me directly for new ads or to complain about useless staff.
I was still handling content, quotes, admin and customer complaints—all at once.
I was, again, that digital waitress.
At everyone’s beck and call.
Morning to night.
The truth?
I’d become a slave.
Working for free. Underpaid. Overused.
Whether they were doing it on purpose to block me from finding other work…
Or just so self-absorbed they didn’t care how much they were wrecking my life…
Either way—the situation was getting out of hand.
When It Crossed into Thulm
At this point, it wasn’t just emotional.
It wasn’t just economic.
Islamically — it was unethical.
There was no clear contract.
No written agreement.
No renewal of terms.
Not even a review — since 2011, three years prior.
The work grew.
The responsibilities multiplied.
The expectations expanded.
But the compensation? Stayed exactly the same.
And in that gap — between what I gave and what I was given — my time was stolen.
My effort was taken without consent.
And that, in the language of fiqh… is thulm.
In our deen — the deen of truth and justice — this wasn’t just bad business.
It was a breach of trust.
It was exploitation.
Not just of a worker — but of a woman in a vulnerable position.
I know my Islamic rights.
Yes, maintenance covers the basics. But it doesn't cover therapy.
It doesn’t cover private education.
It doesn’t cover what it actually costs to raise a special needs child in a broken system.
As a single mother, I felt increasingly resentful.
I didn’t have the time or the space to seek more income — not without neglecting my child, who already needed more of me than I could give.
Eventually, I applied for another VA role — with a company in the States.
It’s more than possible that the background noise, the ruckus caused by my child, sabotaged that interview.
But that experience lit a fire.
It pushed me to rebrand. To rebuild. To revive my own little business that had stalled.
Somehow, I was going to find income elsewhere.
Somehow I was going to create space for healing and growth.
But in the meantime… they assumed I was desperate.
They assumed I’d take anything.
That I’d stay quiet.
Be grateful for crumbs.
Because I needed the money.
And yes — I did need the income.
But here’s what they didn’t get:
Islam does not condone this.
It doesn’t honour exploitation dressed up as “opportunity.”
It doesn’t excuse injustice just because the victim “had no choice.”
I’ll name it clearly:
Theft. Theft of my time.
Theft of my energy. Theft of my dignity.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse… it did.
On top of everything else, I was suddenly expected to manage all the emails — from all the branches — coming through the website funnels we had just set up.
Every. Single. One.
Everyone on the team — except Dr Khinzīr — agreed that this was completely unfair.
It was impractical.
It made no logistical sense.
But his ego decided otherwise.
And just like that, another hour or two per day of my life disappeared.
No pay.
No recognition.
Just more exploitation.
The Day I Walked Away — Fueled by Fury and a Fat ‘Bismillah’
They demanded I show up at Head Office again—after bleeding me dry energetically.
Another meeting that could’ve easily been a Zoom call.
Same updates, the third time over.
But this time, I wasn’t going alone.
I brought my child—because he was off from school and couldn't afford a nanny, especially at the last minute.
They insisted. The owner had been giving me a bullying attitude for months.
He wasn’t being reasonable. It was okay for him to ditch me at our last meeting, after kicking me out of the first.
But now he was insisting I once again put all my other clients, my work, my life—and my child—on the back burner to prioritise this ingrate.
The salary hadn’t changed since 2011.
There was no contract. No recognition. No empathy.
Forget empathy—even basic logic was missing. What a man lacks in sensitivity, he should make up for it with reason.
I didn’t even get that from him.
Once again, they wanted the work of a media manager—for a virtual assistant’s pay.
And still had the audacity to be obnoxious about it.
Before I left, I sent a message:
“I quit.”
I arrived—not in submission, but in confrontation.
My child was having a meltdown in my arms.
I stepped in with fierce mama-bear energy and a fat ‘Bismillah’ under my breath.
Their eyes were watering as they sat there, timid.
Mine were ablaze as I carefully chose my words—speaking matter-of-factly, in an angry tone.
I was furious.
I repeated everything I had already communicated regarding updates—before confirming my departure.
What my posture stated that my tongue withheld:
“This ‘personal problem’ that I’m holding is my amanat from Allah, not you or the circus you call a business - who are you to undermine that?”
I walked out after giving them two weeks’ notice.
HR had the cheek to tell me that due to the lack of a contract, I wasn’t entitled to leave pay.
Technically, I wasn’t even a staff member.
No job. No backup plan.
But total tawakkul.
I took an Uber there, but I was too pumped up on adrenaline to take one back.
So my son, Khidr, and I walked 45 minutes to get home.
On the way, I kept thinking:
Oh my God… what have I done? What have I done?
Then I made du‘a.
I asked Allah SWT to Protect me from my own nafs—and from my own stupidity—if I was in the wrong.
Because I was so deep in my reptilian brain, I wasn’t sure anymore.
Things Got Better Quickly
I messaged my landlord as a courtesy. He came over, and after I updated him, he asked for advice on another business he was running—specifically about its online profile.
So I consulted him. Eventually, I offered him a free trial.
He’s still my client to this day—and I was never short on rent.
The following month, another client increased my retainer, and I also got an exception on school fees.
The month after that, I landed a new client.
I offered my son’s inclusive school help with their online presence to support fundraising for their feeding schemes and educational support for special needs.
I also volunteered with the Qur’anic Institute I was studying at.
I never expected them to become my largest retainer—but they grew, and so did the demand for my help.
The best part wasn’t just the financial stability.
It was the spiritual reminders.
The deeper connection to Allah’s Book—something I wouldn’t have experienced if I hadn’t taken that leap of faith.
The devil rides you when you’re angry. And I was afraid my anger would get me into trouble.
But I was okay.
I was more than okay.
I became a better person, a better mother—while growing my rebranded business.
I began charging both old and new clients per hour, on my own terms.
While slowly but surely growing my income, I sustained our little household on a tight budget.
I made use of donated parcels. I completely levelled up my culinary skills by cooking from scratch.
The kids and I have never enjoyed food as much as we did during that time.
There was so much barakah.
It delighted and surprised us how well some of the dishes came out.
I was more in control—feeding my special needs child food that was better and more organic.
I didn’t feel oppressed in my domestic role.
If anything, I felt empowered by this newfound survivalism, made fun by creativity and new skills.
While wealthier people were paying Zionist corporations to poison them via processed food…
I was taking my power back—in more ways than one.
That whole time, I clung to an abundance mindset:
“Verily, Allah provides for whom He wills without measure.”
(Qur’an 3:37)
Maryam (AS) was given fruits out of season.
So was I.
It’s clear to me now that some companies intentionally push for female hires—not out of respect or equity, but because they’re banking on something else.
They’re hoping women lack an abundance mindset.
They’re hoping we operate from scarcity—so we’ll tolerate mistreatment, underpayment, and overwork.
It’s a tactic. A strategy. A form of exploitation.
And I say this as someone who lived it.
I’m also living proof that Allah SWT provides—from places both imagined and completely unexpected.
So here’s my message to the ummah, and especially to our speakers:
Stop telling women to “go get jobs.”
Tell them to build income-generating skills instead.
Empower them like our mother—Khadijah bint Khuwaylid—who owned her business, mastered trade, and honoured her dignity.
We don’t need to beg for seats at tables built on exploitation.
We need to build our own—with tawakkul, skill, and barakah - all from Allah SWT because He Provides for whom He Wills.
We, especially women, have to learn to be open to receive…
And with that I pray that Allah SWT:
Protects us from the illusion of scarcity and the traps of those who seek to exploit our needs. Replace what we lose in His path with what is better — in provision, in peace, in nearness to Him. Let our anger become clarity, our hardship become elevation, and our courage be a means of guiding others to trust in Allah SWT more than the means.
Make us like Maryam AS, firm in faith. Like Khadijah AS, strong in skill. Like Umm Musa, surrendered yet unshaken. And like our beloved Prophet ﷺ, whose trust never wavered.
Yaa Allah, Write us among those who walk away from what dims our light, only to be drawn closer to Your Noor. Ameen.
Assalamu alaykum wa rrahmatali wa barakatu”
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Our Response:
Ameen Thumma Ameen
The company’s “prove yourself, maybe we’ll promote you” setup isn’t exactly muzābanah, but it shares key unethical traits — uncertainty (gharar), unfair exchange, and lack of clear terms. Not specifying a target or timeframe makes it even more problematic. In Islam, work agreements must be transparent, fair, and specific, protecting the worker from being used without just reward.
The Pharaoh’s Plan: Feminism, Employment & the Hijack of the Female Role
Recently, we reflected on Asiyah Houdini — a woman who escaped sexual abuse within the Islamic NGO sector. She worked in the shadows, building income-generating skills that ultimately gave her a dignified exit. In contrast, Maryam Morales’ story is more abrupt. Her time and sanity were squashed by a company threatening her livelihood. She had to “work extra” just to keep her basic low level income. She didn’t have the time to build quietly — she had to leap.
🔎 Where are the boundaries?
Islamic scholars often say employment is permissible for women — as long as boundaries are upheld. Think of the women at the well during the time of Musa (AS) — they worked with the right intention, under the instruction of their father, and within modest limits. It is not work that is the issue, but who we work for and why.
Yet many Muslim women find themselves in work environments that push far beyond these boundaries. Some jobs strip women of time, dignity, and even their deen. There’s a fine line between earning a living — and being enslaved by one.
🪙 The illusion of empowerment
Feminism exists for a reason. But when people speak about feminism, we’re not always having the same conversation. A woman seeking safety and dignity is not the same as a woman trying to replace or replicate masculinity. And yet, both get bundled into the same box.
Many companies exploit this confusion, pushing a brand of “faux feminism” — the kind that says: be independent of men, be empowered, be free. But free to what? Endless timecards? Wage slavery? Burnout?
Some feminist narratives just usher women into a new form of oppression: one where their value is still measured by productivity, time, and control — only now it's dressed in “equality” instead of patriarchy.
🏡 What did the Prophet ﷺ teach us?
The Prophet ﷺ gave his wives full authority over themselves. When other women wanted to leave, he didn’t question it, he facilitated remarriage quickly. He respected women’s autonomy and eased their transitions.
Sayyida Khadijah (AS) was not a worker — she was a businesswoman. She invested, she managed, she created opportunities for others. That difference matters. Because independence from oppression doesn’t come from a job — it comes from skills, strategy, and sustenance with tawakkul.
💼 Why income-generating skills matter
Asiyah Houdini grew in secret. Maryam Morales needed to land on her feet. Both would have failed if they only had jobs. What they needed and what they had were skills — the ability to market, sell, build, and bounce back. The kind of independence that makes you selective. Not desperate.
Because in truth, no one is independent. Not men. Not women. We are all dependent — on Allah SWT, on provision, on relationships. But with the right skills, you can choose whom to depend on. And that choice is power.
It's a matter of tying up the camel…
⚠️ Modern slavery is real
Many women are raising children and doing full-time jobs — the burden is doubled. Meanwhile, many men have been emasculated by lifestyle, media, and inactivity. Testosterone drops as they sit in extended adolescence, playing video games while women keep things running.
This imbalance is not accidental. It was planned.
📜 Trigger warning: This post contains reference to disturbing historical material used to unpack systemic manipulation and modern parallels
🧱 Let’s talk about the plantation plan
The image above is from a chilling colonial document — instructions given to slave owners on how to breed and break African families. It shows how slave masters reversed gender roles, emotionally froze women, and destabilized male influence — all to produce more manageable humans.
“...females being without influence of the male image, frozen with an independent psychology, will raise their offspring into reverse positions…”
This tactic is not history. It’s blueprint. And it continues today — through media, economy, and policy. By separating the “mountain pegs” of the family unit, the system renders women more "negotiable," more desperate, more dispensable.
🌿 In closing…
Single mothers can thrive, bi ithni Allah. But we must see through the smokescreen. Not all empowerment is real. Not all work is dignified. Not all feminism is freeing.
Let’s return to our foundations — skill-building, strategy, and sincere dependence on Allah SWT. Let us raise women who are free by the Qur’an and Sunnah, not by the corporations.
🔖 #FaithOverFeminism #MuslimWomenEmpowered #IncomeNotSlavery #AsiyahHoudini #SayyidaKhadijah #ModernSlavery #TawakkulNotTimecards #GigEconomyWithAllah
📖 Relevant Ayaat
1. Trust in Allah and Sustainable Provision
"And whoever fears Allah – He Will Make for him a way out, and Will Provide for him from where he does not expect. And whoever relies upon Allah – then He is Sufficient for him."
— Surah At-Talaq (65:2-3)
2. Women Working with Dignity: The Daughters of Shu’ayb (AS)
“He found two women keeping back [their flocks]. He said, ‘What is your situation?’ They said, ‘We do not water until the shepherds leave, and our father is an old man.”
— Surah Al-Qasas (28:23)
3. Caution Against Being Consumed by Work and Wealth
"O you who believe, let not your wealth and your children divert you from the remembrance of Allah."
— Surah Al-Munafiqun (63:9)
📜 Relevant Hadith
1. Women Have the Right to Autonomy in Marriage
"A previously married woman has more right to her person than her guardian, and a virgin’s consent must be sought."
— Sahih Muslim 1421, Bukhari 5136
2. On Financial Dignity through Self-Effort
"No one eats better food than that which he eats out of the work of his own hand."
— Sahih Bukhari 2072
3. Sayyida Khadijah’s (AS) Model
She was an investor and businesswoman, not a labourer — she hired others to trade on her behalf, including the Prophet ﷺ.
— Sīrah accounts: Ibn Hisham, Ibn Ishaq
🤲🏽 Dua for Halal Provision & Independence
اللَّهُمَّ اكْفِنِي بِحَلَالِكَ عَنْ حَرَامِكَ، وَأَغْنِنِي بِفَضْلِكَ عَمَّنْ سِوَاكَ
Allahumma akfini bihalālika 'an ḥarāmik, wa aghnini bifaḍlika 'amman siwāk.
Translation:
“O Allah, suffice me with what You have made lawful instead of what You have made unlawful, and make me independent by Your bounty from all others besides You.”
— Tirmidhi 3563 (Hasan)
💜 Maryam – Lavender
Story: Defying Gendered Exploitation & Empty Promises in a Muslim-Owned Franchise (2009–2015)
Flower: Lavender – The Flower That Attracts Bees
Meaning:
Bees seek it — just as opportunities, promises, and exploitation all sought her out.
But lavender doesn’t chase; it attracts quietly.
Bees, in turn, symbolise wealth, provision, and divine blessing — a Qur'anic echo of "your Lord caused a stream to flow beneath you… and provided dates and fresh water…” (Maryam 19:24–25).
She is not just protected — she is provided for in isolation.
Her strength is magnetic, not aggressive; her value draws others in, but she remains rooted and self-possessed.
Lavender is one of the most storied, sacred, and versatile plants — both practically and symbolically. It’s soft and soothing, but not weak. Think of it as the gentle strength that guards, heals, attracts, and endures.
💜 Lavender – The Scented Shield
🌿 1. Calming & Healing (Mind, Body, Soul)
Used in aromatherapy to calm anxiety, reduce stress, and improve sleep.
Acts on the nervous system to quiet hypervigilance — almost like it teaches the body to trust again.
Its oil is antiseptic and anti-inflammatory, used for burns, wounds, and even insect bites.
🌱 Symbolism: Lavender restores what stress fractures. It speaks to a woman who stays gentle without collapsing.
🐝 2. Attracts Bees – Symbol of Provision & Value
One of the top nectar plants — bees seek it out.
It offers sweetness and nourishment without changing itself to please.
🌸 Symbolism: A woman who doesn’t chase approval — she’s attractive by her very essence. What’s real and beneficial is drawn to her.
🛡️ 3. Natural Pest Repellent
Repels moths, fleas, mosquitoes and even rodents — often used in cupboards or sachets to protect clothing and sacred spaces.
🛏️ Symbolism: She may be soft, but she sets firm boundaries. Her comfort zone is guarded. Her stillness is not an invitation for harm.
👩🌾 4. Resilient & Drought-Tolerant
Grows in poor, dry soil where more delicate plants fail.
Once rooted, it thrives in adversity, needs little maintenance, and even self-prunes.
🏞️ Symbolism: A survivor. A woman who asks for little, endures much, and still gives sweetness to the world.
💜 For Maryam:
Lavender becomes the perfect metaphor:
She’s gentle but repels harm.
She attracts wealth (bees) yet lives simply
And she blooms in dry, unfriendly soil — holding space for provision and healing while the world forgets her.
Summary:
Attracts bees - rizq
But also resilient drought hardy and can survive of less
Pest repellent - dumps the business that tried to exploit her but heals and soothes her life from their harm (had to leave to do so much like the lavender has to be removed from the bush to be effective)
Just like how Allah SWT Provides for the swallows and lillies, how can we expect less for the best of His Creation.
But we (especially women) have to be open to receive.
Assalamu alaykum wa rrahmatali wa barakatu
