For years it seemed as if the influencer space was dominated by people who looked, talked, and lived similar lives, a perception that struck me as deceptively perfect. They seemed to have the best clothes, the most money, flawless hair and makeup, and everything around them appeared expensive and was showcased in abundance. What’s more, it was overwhelmingly dominated with scantily dressed “Instagram models.”
Not only could I not relate, but I knew my daughter and other young girls would one day look for role models, and they wouldn’t see themselves in any of these people. To me, this was a problem, and whenever I see a problem, I want to fix it. But this wasn’t something I could just…fix. I realized I had two choices: I could search endlessly to find modest, positive representation in mainstream media, or I could become the representation I knew was missing.
Being the change
Around 2011, I realized my time had come, but there was some hesitation. Instagram was just starting to pick up, but I was already a mother of two and still wrestling with the idea of whether I, as a Muslim woman, should even be “on display.” That inner conflict was real. I had grown up with a strict Islamic foundation, co-written two nasheed CDs, and was just beginning to take performing seriously. Even with mixed emotions, I knew that modesty had to be represented; not just the idea of it, not a watered-down, whimsical version, but the full picture. The real thing, in its entirety.
So, with some trepidation, I began creating content by sharing what felt natural to me, including my everyday modest looks, reflections on being a Muslim mother and wife, and just small parts of my life that felt worth documenting. I gained followers, and what started as quiet personal posts slowly turned into a community of women who saw themselves in me. That’s when I realized posting content with intention was already a form of influence.
Landscape change
Not long after I dipped my toes into content creation, I began to see a shift on social media and modest influencers started to emerge. Maybe it was Allah (SWT) sending me a sign that what I was doing was okay, or maybe it was the law of attraction. Regardless, what had once felt like a void was slowly, quietly being filled, and as Instagram grew, so did the presence of hijabis. Their content began to challenge the influencer landscape, not as a rebellion, but as an inevitability. It wasn’t always intentional, but it didn’t have to be; their presence alone was powerful and different.
You see, building trust and community as a modest creator comes with its own set of challenges. When you can’t share everything, when you choose to maintain a level of mystery, and when the kind of visibility the internet rewards doesn’t align with your values, you have to lean on something deeper. You have to be really adept at storytelling – visually, verbally, and emotionally. Also, by default our content is more value-driven and rooted in purpose. We weren’t raised to glorify this life and the material things in it, or to compete in worldly status. Sure, those things still exist in our communities, but, for many of us, they’re the minority.
Pop culture teaches our youth that the most visible stories are the most valuable, and when our Muslim communities are left out of those narratives, our girls are at risk of growing up believing they have to change in order to be seen. However, that started to shift when more modest women began using these social media platforms. It created new paths, and it sent the message that autonomy isn’t just the freedom to show your body, but also the freedom to cover it. It also forced others to see us beyond our physical appearance.
Being the representation
For many young women and girls watching, it was validating and uplifting. They could see themselves not just as an “exception” but as a presence in the public eye. That visibility eventually caught the attention of brands, and, slowly, modest creators began to be recognized as a viable part of marketing and media.
I’ve been a writer since I was nine, but when I started creating content, I knew it would be a challenge. I knew I’d be criticized, not just by strangers online, but by elders in my own community. I’d be an example for the youth, whether I liked it or not, and, as a beginner, that pressure was heavy. It weighed on my heart and weighed on my mind. Putting yourself out there as a visibly Muslim woman means carrying the weight of public opinion, and, as I navigated this new role, I realized that showing up modestly wasn’t just about clothing, it was about intention. This intention is something I have to continually renew and purify, even today. It shaped how I wanted to present myself, and how I viewed other modest creators doing the same.
Posting for profit
As for the financial benefits, let’s be honest, modest creators didn’t really start “selling” until recently. In the early days, we were still proving Muslim women even deserved to be seen. We were showing that Muslim communities were a legitimate market, and, despite not being favored by the algorithm or chosen as the face of campaigns, we kept pushing forward.
Eventually, we made our way to the front of the line, whether anyone liked it or not. I’ll never forget 2016 when Halima Aden became the first hijabi model on the cover of Sports Illustrated and Ibtihaj Muhammad won Olympic gold in fencing while sporting a hijab. You can say what you want, but those moments made an impact. You couldn’t deny it. No one could, and the world was watching. Even in controversy, it forced conversations that were long overdue.
Moving forward, if brands are smart, they’ll embrace the fact that Islam is the fastest-growing religion in the world. With more than 2 billion Muslims globally, we’re not a niche, we’re a movement, and we’re a powerful market that’s taking up digital space while hailing from all backgrounds, cultures, and walks of life.
The media may not favor conservatism, but we’re still here. We are represented in beauty, fashion, culture, and everyday lifestyle, and not only do we live outside the narrative the media has tried to write about us, we are the authors of our own stories. Modesty is not invisibility, it is a message, and we’re here to tell it honestly and in first person.
