Imagine waking up for suhoor in silence, ensuring that not even the flicker of a light gives away your act of worship. Imagine whispering a dua so quietly in your heart that even the walls around you must not hear. Imagine fasting in secret, knowing that if you are caught, the punishment could be severe.
This is the reality for our Uyghur Muslim brothers and sisters in China, where Ramadan is a time of immense hardship and fear.
Stripped of their religious identity, for them practicing Islam is seen as a crime. They are banned from fasting, praying, or even greeting each other with “As-salamu Alaikum.” They live under relentless surveillance and their every move is monitored. Their homes are raided for anything that links them to their faith. Even children are taken away, placed in indoctrination camps where they are taught to forget their roots, their language, their beliefs.
A former student recalls, “Typically, our schools didn’t provide meals, but during Ramadan, food was suddenly distributed to make sure we didn’t fast. Teachers would hand out watermelon and watch who refused to eat. If you didn’t, you were warned.”
Another Uyghur remembers how authorities would patrol the streets, forcing people to eat during daylight hours, even making sudden stops to check if someone was fasting.
Despite the unimaginable oppression, Uyghur Muslims hold onto their faith with a strength that is exemplary for all of us. They pray in secret. They fast in endurance. Their hearts whisper the words that their lips dare not speak.
Would we have the same courage if our faith was tested like this? Could we still hold onto Islam if practicing it meant risking our freedom, our families, our very lives?
As we gather around our tables for iftar, safe and free, let us remember those who break their fast in fear and darkness. As we pray Taraweeh in congregation, let us remember those who pray alone. And as we raise our hands in dua, let us not forget to ask Allah (SWT) to ease their suffering, to strengthen them, and to grant them freedom.
