Muslim women are supposed to be bastions of culture, tradition, and responsibility, especially during Ramadan (Photo: Sadia Azmat)

It’s been 112 days since I’ve had sex (but who’s counting?) so the idea of more abstinence is a cinch.

It’s Ramadan, the month where Muslims not only fast our stomachs (during daylight hours) but when we Muslim women strive for modesty wherever it can be sought out.

The ‘modesty’ part is a bit of a problem for me. I’ve had sex during Ramadan (after Iftar, not during the fast which isn’t permitted) and it’s great.

Well it’s great all year round but there is a heightened sense of arousal given the increased awareness of primal urges through the hunger and thirst. If I had a choice, I’d give up a sandwich over semen.




But when I’m not observing fasting during the 30 days of Ramadan then society imposes upon me an almost involuntary fasting by holding me to a higher set of expectations than I do of myself.

Society expects me to be a ‘good girl’ and to lower my gaze around men. Muslim women are supposed to be bastions of culture, tradition, and responsibility, especially during Ramadan.

Muslim women like me – rounded, complicated, emotive and above all horny – aren’t even supposed to exist.

I was brought up with two options: have an arranged marriage or don’t. Except the latter wasn’t really a thing.

If you didn’t want to get married you’d be akin to a stray dog, a social outcast. It’s unspoken of in the community – incomprehensible. Rumours circulate amongst my relatives in India that, due to being unmarried, I’m either gay or suffering a terminal illness, most likely both.

It’s these repressive attitudes that have forced me to date in the dark (not literally, obviously).

And while dating inconspicuously can be a thrill for a while, being forced into secrecy from key support networks isn’t smart and can lead you into some questionable trysts, as well as suffering the consequences quite alone.

How do you maintain your modesty when you’re trying to get into someone else’s modest regions? (Photo: Sadia Azmat)

Before I could even attempt dating, however, I had to get over this image that society had thrust upon me of being a saint and embrace the fact that actually I was closer to a sinner.

As I grew more confident and started talking to boys, I figured out what I liked and what I didn’t.

I also learnt that in my experience men prefer to chase than be chased. The few times I have made the first move didn’t even lead to a first date, and guys never ask me out. They either think I’m into a jihadi (our equivalent of a bad boy), that I’m already married, or frigid.

Wrong. I believe in sex before marriage – mainly because I believe in sex and not so much marriage.

The only guys left are the ones looking to ‘save’ me from some imaginary, oppressed plight they seem to have conjured me up suffering. Non-Muslim guys see dating me as a challenge, as though conquering me is akin to when the US invaded Iraq. I mean, I need some d*ck but I don’t need you to be one.



Ramadan is a reminder to me that a lot of Muslims like to be seen as ‘being Muslim’ and are concerned with keeping up appearances with other Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

This has led to the rise in Muslim dating apps like minder – but it’s basically brown Tinder, innit? In my opinion it’s no different to mainstream dating apps. I wonder if the people using Muslim-only apps want to feel like they’re doing the right thing when really they’re a little opposed by the conflict this raises with tradition.

I believe in sex before marriage – mainly because I believe in sex and not so much marriage.

Because how do you maintain your modesty when you’re trying to get into someone else’s modest regions? There’s no shame in it. Call a spade a spade.

I actually haven’t had very many sexual partners and have lost out on a whole host of experiences as a result. I don’t want to be that person looking back on my life, boasting that at least I never committed haraam. Our mistakes make us who we are – human.

The rate of divorce among my parents’ generation is low and they have been married for decades. Although you could always see cracks, problems were hidden to save face and avoid the shame of having to own up to being human and having hit a stumbling block.

Doing stand-up has been a great way for me to express exactly how I’m feeling about sex and dating and it’s shown people that Muslims are not ‘all the same’.


Because no matter how many layers of clothing I am wearing (or not), spirituality and faith is about what’s on the inside.

It’s not something for me to prove, nor something others can pass judgement on, however hard they may try.

I don’t think modesty is static, a specific point on a spectrum. For me, the best way to understand the relationship between my sexuality and my faith is to constantly re-evaluate what modesty means for me individually. Maybe, by being too modest through my early years, I’ve now gone too far the other way?

Or maybe the only way to realign is to let it all go.

Ladies this Ramadan, instead of living for others or towards everyone else’s expectations, just do you – the rest will follow.

Sadia will be performing with fellow Muslim comedians at Sex Standing Up Comedy’s MILF (M-is-for-Muslim) Edition. Follow her at on Twitter @sadia_azmats_

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