When I made the decision to become a Muslim, I didn't consider the profound effect it would have on my family. By this I don't mean my parents and extended family, although it certainly came as quite a surprise to them. But rather, I mean my descendents - any children I may have in the future.

I'm keenly aware that, as a convert, I've not only changed the course of my life but very likely the course of my (currently hypothetical) children's lives by creating a Muslim branch to the family and breaking away from a long line of Protestant ministers and missionaries. I have no doubt that had I remained a Christian my children would have been raised as such, whereas if I were to have children now they would be raised in a Muslim household and referred to as "Muslim children" by society.

This reflection led me to explore the significant influence parents' religious decisions have on their children's lives and the possible effects of labelling based on the religious or non-religious beliefs of their parents and guardians.

In most religions, there exist certain obligations on the part of parents to raise their children within their own faith tradition. In Christianity and Judaism, for instance, Deuteronomy 4:9 calls on believers to "Teach what you've seen and heard to your children and grandchildren." Most Christian denominations have a baptism or similar service when the infant is dedicated to God, and a later confirmation service where that initial dedication is re-affirmed, although this too can come at a young age.

In mainstream Islamic thought, there is the generally upheld belief that we are all born with an innate belief in God. Therefore, a child of Muslim parents would generally be referred to as Muslim from birth. For this reason, it's common to hear the word "revert" rather than "convert" if someone becomes a Muslim, since reverting means "to return" to this original state.

This is all very well theologically speaking, but how do these labels and expectations affect someone in their formative years?

There are several potentially positive effects of labelling a child at so young an age. Labels can help to create a sense of belonging within a community and strengthen family bonds. It can also aid the child in the construction of their identity by learning and being a part of their family's faith traditions and festivals such as Diwali, Eid and Christmas, which are all the more exciting when experienced as children.

On the negative side, however, labels can create pressure and expectations. In labelling children from birth, there is a risk that they will follow their parents' religion because they feel obliged to, rather than having agency in their own decision-making process. I grew up with the awareness that I'd already been "dedicated" to God (my church's equivalent of baptism) and, being a ministers' daughter, it was pretty much expected of me that I would follow their particular faith, and perhaps even continue the family tradition by becoming a minister myself. Though at no time did I feel forced to be or remain a Christian, this series of spoken and unspoken assumptions meant that I never really considered an alternative until I was much older. I was inquisitive and asked questions, but they were usually within the context of Christianity, and very rarely about other faiths.

The second major problem with labels is that they are often based on assumptions. Primarily, this is usually an assumption of faith - a belief in the divine, whether the child has come to the decision that they believe in God or not. These assumptions also carve the world up in simplistic categories and ignore plural religious identities and the increasing number of interfaith families whose members are adherents of diverse faiths and none.

When we think about labels, we should consider whether children are able to make genuine faith decisions at such a young age and if it is appropriate to label them according to those choices. Leanna Guillen Mora, founder of Multicultural Kids Blog and All Done Monkey, insists "children's hearts can be touched by faith and so it can be appropriate to refer to them as belonging to a particular religion, although of course this is different from when a mature adult makes this same commitment."

The issue of faith in childhood and adulthood particularly resonates with me as I made a life-long commitment to Jesus as a child, believing him to be the Son of God - a promise that was sincerely meant at the time. But I am a different person now to the child I was twenty years ago, having not yet gone out and experienced the world on my own.

Having said that, I would never wish to undermine the sincerity or validity of a child's declaration of faith. Children are indeed capable of great faith and their heart-felt decisions should be respected rather than dismissed out of hand. We should, however, recognise that while children can have faith, they shouldn't be bound by the faith promises or commitments they make as children or as a result of their upbringing. Perhaps it would be better for us to think of childhood declarations of faith as having a built-in expiry date.

A similar concept is present in the Baha'i faith, as Leanna Guillen Mora explains:

"[Ch]ildren are usually considered to be Baha'i until age fifteen. Fifteen is considered the age of spiritual maturity and the time when children become responsible for their faith. As part of that, they must declare their belief in Baha'u'llah to be considered Baha'is (not just because their parents are). As someone that grew up in a Baha'i family, this was very important to me, as a way to take ownership and feel like it was 'my' religion, not just something I was following because of my family."

This re-affirmation of belief gives young adults a sense of ownership. It becomes their religion rather than simply inherited and imbues them with a sense of agency in their own personal faith. The idea that a decision should only be made in adulthood is a central tenet for Baptists, a Christian denomination in the Protestant tradition, who believe declarations of faith should only come from professing adult believers as opposed to infant baptism where the child has no say in the matter.

The main problem when it comes to religious labels is when they are used as a means to control others. Religion should never be used as a tool to scare or manipulate another human being into a particular belief system. There is a vast difference between the personal belief that a person is Muslim from birth, and using that belief as a justification for purposefully preventing someone from leaving the religion.

An extreme case of this type of labelling being used to control another is that of Sudanese Meriam Ibrahim whose family attempted to condemn her to death for apostasy despite the absence of her Muslim father, not to mention the fact that she had been raised and identified herself as a Christian her whole life. Thankfully the huge wave of international outrage and concerted pressure meant that Meriam was eventually freed. Sadly, there are still many who continue to suffer across the world because they are unable to openly declare that they do not believe in God or have chosen a new faith. There are many organisations, such as CEMB, who offer support to those who scared that they may be rejected, hurt, or even killed simply because they no longer adhere to the religious label they were given.

As a convert myself, and one who was given incredibly support throughout, I feel it is my responsibility to teach any children I may have, not only about my own religion, but also about the faith traditions of my predominantly Christian family, so that they would be able to connect, understand and know they have the freedom to choose their own path - just as I did.

When it comes to religious identity, education and choice are crucial. Interfaith education provides a safe space for children to ask questions of others and, most importantly, question their own beliefs. Being free to choose allows young people to feel more connected to their beliefs, even if they continue in the same faith tradition as their parents, because they have actively taken ownership of them.

Perhaps labels are an inevitable fact of life, a human process we use to make sense of the world and those around us. But if we must refer to children by their parents' faith, we should think carefully about our use of words and the effect they may have on growing minds. Perhaps a better, albeit imperfect, choice of words would be to say, for example, "child of Christian parents" so that children are associated with, but not directly defined, by their parents' religion.

We need to be fully aware of the great influence that we have on young people through our words and actions, and go to great lengths to ensure they are not pinned down and defined before they have had a chance to spread their wings.

Sarah Ager is an English teacher, expat writer and interfaith activist living in Italy. She describes herself as an "Anglo-Muslim hybrid" after having converted to Islam in 2011. She writes about interfaith dialogue, language and Italian culture on her blog, A Hotchpotch Hijabi in Italy. She also curates Interfaith Ramadan, an inclusive blog project bringing together writers of diverse faiths and none. You can find her on Twitter and Facebook.