Mayous Parenting Blog

Author: Mayous Publishing

  • Tawakkul Doesn’t Mean Sitting Around

    Tawakkul Doesn’t Mean Sitting Around

    “Leave it to Allah.”

    We’ve all heard it.

    Some of us grew up with it drilled into our heads.

    Lost your job? “Have Tawakkul.”

    Didn’t study for the exam? “Make du’a and have faith.”

    Didn’t take any action, make any plan, or lift a single finger?

    “Allah will provide.”

    And while the intent behind those words might be pure… the understanding? Not so much.

    Tawakkul Is Not Passive

    Let’s get something straight:

    Tawakkul is not sitting back and waiting for things to magically happen.

    It’s not surrendering your own effort.

    It’s not wrapping your inaction in religious vocabulary and calling it “faith.”

    Tawakkul is about doing everything you can — and then trusting that what you can’t control, Allah will handle.

    It’s hustle plus hope.

    Work plus trust.

    Action plus surrender.

    The Prophet ﷺ didn’t walk into battle without strategy.

    He tied his camel. He took precautions. He made alliances.

    And then he put his trust in Allah.

    Meanwhile, Western Culture Went the Other Extreme

    While many Muslims were busy saying “God will handle it,”

    the Western world ran in the opposite direction.

    Control everything.

    Have a 10-year plan.

    Hack your routine.

    Optimize your sleep.

    Track your steps, your spending, your goals, your thoughts.

    Everything’s a system. Everything’s a funnel.

    And if it doesn’t work? You didn’t try hard enough.

    It’s exhausting.

    Because life doesn’t always follow the script.

    And when things fall apart — and they will —

    “just try harder” doesn’t always help.

    We’re Trying to Teach Something Better

    At Mayous, we try to show kids a third way.

    In our stories, Tawakkul isn’t a cop-out, and it’s not control-freak energy either.

    It’s something wiser.

    We teach kids:

    • Show up.

    • Try your best.

    • Be smart. Be kind. Be prepared.

    • And then? Let go.

    You’re not God.

    You’re not powerless either.

    You’re responsible for the input, not the outcome.

    And that’s what real Tawakkul is.

    Trusting Allah Is Not an Excuse — It’s a Mindset

    It’s the difference between saying:

    🛑 “I didn’t apply to the job. If Allah wills it, it’ll happen.”

    vs.

    ✅ “I applied to five jobs, prepped my CV, showed up fully… and now I trust whatever outcome Allah writes for me.”

    One of those is avoidance.

    The other is Tawakkul.

    And our kids need to learn that difference early — because this world will either tell them they’re completely in control… or completely helpless.

    Neither is true.

    So We Write Stories That Reflect That Balance

    Because Islam isn’t about extremes.

    It’s about effort and surrender living side by side.

    We don’t want to raise kids who think making du’a replaces doing the work.

    But we also don’t want them to burn out chasing things they were never meant to carry alone.

    We want them to dream big.

    To work hard.

    And then, when it’s all done — to look up and say:

    “Now I trust You to take it from here.”

    Want to share that message with your kids in a story they’ll actually enjoy?

    👉 Subscribe to our newsletter to receive free eBooks, and find our story on Tawakkul in our Book Catalog.

    Or you can find its print version on our Book Catalog as always.

     

     

  • Still Believe, But Don’t Belong? This Is for You.

    Still Believe, But Don’t Belong? This Is for You.

    Let’s be real.

    Some of us grew up in homes full of religion — but empty of mercy.

    Some of us heard more haram police than heartfelt prayer.

    Some of us were handed long lists of rules… but no space to ask why.

    So we drifted.

    Some quietly. Some loudly.

    But the feeling was the same:

    “This version of Islam doesn’t feel like home.”

    But Still — You Couldn’t Let Go Entirely, Could You?

    You still say Alhamdulillah under your breath when something goes right.

    You still feel something stir when the Qur’an plays in the background.

    You still believe — even if you don’t check all the boxes anymore.

    And that’s the thing.

    You’re not faithless.

    You’re disillusioned.

    The Problem Was Never With the Faith — It Was With the Framing.

    Islam wasn’t supposed to be a performance.

    It wasn’t meant to be about guilt, or image, or “what will people think.”

    It was always about something deeper.

    Something personal.

    Something rooted in awe, love, and meaning.

    But that message got buried under:

    • cultural baggage

    • judgmental aunties

    • rigid institutions

    • and a thousand little moments that made you feel like you’d never be “good enough”

    We see you.

    We were you.

    That’s why we write the way we do.

    What We Make Isn’t “Islamic Books” — It’s Soul Work.

    You know those preachy storybooks where the kid messes up, gets scolded, and then magically becomes perfect after one ayah?

    Yeah… we don’t write those.

    We write Islamic storybooks that wrestle with real feelings.

    Stories that ask hard questions.

    Stories that offer something gentle — not just correct.

    We don’t try to push rules.

    We try to pull hearts.

    Because this path back to God?

    It doesn’t always look like a straight line.

    Sometimes it looks like a quiet detour through a children’s story that wasn’t even meant for you — but somehow spoke to your soul anyway.

    If You’re Still Searching, You’re Still on the Path

    We believe spirituality isn’t for the perfect — it’s for the honest.

    It’s for the ones still figuring it out.

    For the ones who walked away, but never stopped wondering.

    For the ones who want to return, but need a different door.

    Our stories might be for kids — but the healing?

    That’s for you, too.

    Come Sit With Us.

    We’re not here to preach.

    We’re here to tell stories that hold a mirror to your soul — and whisper:

    “You’re not too far gone. You were always invited.”

    Want a story that softens, not scolds?

    👉 Subscribe to our newsletter and get a free story — one that doesn’t tell you how to be perfect, just how to be real.

  • You’re Not in the Mosque, But You’re Still Facing the Right Direction

    You’re Not in the Mosque, But You’re Still Facing the Right Direction

    Some people find their peace in the middle of a crowded masjid, shoulder to shoulder, echoing Ameen in unison.

    And others?

    Others sit in silence on their balcony at maghrib, eyes closed, whispering a quiet Ya Rabb as the sky fades orange.

    Both are valid.

    But only one is usually seen as “good enough.”

    When You’re Not in the Room, People Think You’re Gone

    Let’s say it like it is:

    There’s a certain kind of Muslim that gets seen.

    • The regular at the masjid

    • The one in every halaqa photo

    • The volunteer, the speaker, the public figure

    And then there’s you.

    The one who prays alone.

    Learns alone.

    Connects to Allah in ways that don’t come with applause.

    And because you’re not in the room, people assume you’ve “fallen off.”

    But your heart knows otherwise.

    You Still Believe — You Just Practice in Your Own Way

    You may not post Qur’an reflections online.

    You may not go to every event.

    You may have drifted from Islamic spaces for all kinds of reasons — burnout, judgment, not feeling safe, not feeling seen.

    But somehow, you’ve kept your eemaan.

    Maybe it’s small. Maybe it flickers.

    But it’s yours.

    And it’s alive.

    God Never Needed a Crowd

    If the only way to be close to Allah was through public performance or group worship, then what about the Prophet ﷺ alone in the cave?

    What about Maryam عليه السلام alone under the palm tree?

    What about Hajar, running between hills with no one but God?

    Islam honors the personal.

    The intimate.

    The unseen moments of surrender.

    So don’t let anyone convince you that your private, quiet path isn’t real just because it doesn’t show up on community flyers.

    Faith Doesn’t Have to Be Loud to Be Strong

    There are people who look like they’re “doing everything right” — but inside, they’re empty.

    And there are people who are invisible to the community…

    …but are known by name to the angels.

    So if you’re showing up for your prayers, even if no one sees it — it counts.

    If you’re struggling to learn more, even with no teacher — it counts.

    If you’re holding onto your connection with Allah in a way that feels quiet, raw, and real — it counts.

    This Is Why We Write the Stories We Do

    At Mayous, we’re not trying to make you perform religion.

    We’re trying to create stories that speak to the parts of you that already believe, even if you do it in your own quiet way.

    Our Islamic storybooks aren’t about rules.

    They’re about return.

    They’re about reminders.

    They’re about the kind of faith that blooms gently, away from noise.

    Keep Facing the Right Direction

    Even if you’re not in the crowd.

    Even if you’re not at the event.

    Even if you’re walking your path alone.

    You’re not lost.

    You’re still facing Him.

    And that’s what matters most.

    Looking for stories that speak to your soul — not your image?

    👉 Subscribe to our newsletter and receive a free storybook built on reflection, not performance.

  • You Can’t Read the Qur’an — It’s Too Complex!

    You Can’t Read the Qur’an — It’s Too Complex!

    Wait… didn’t God tell us to read?

    There’s a phrase we’ve all heard in one form or another:

    “No, no — don’t read the Qur’an yourself. It’s too complex. Too nuanced. You need a sheikh to interpret it for you.”

    And listen — let’s get one thing straight:

    We have deep respect for our scholars.

    Their study, their training, their insight — it matters.

    They are stewards of sacred knowledge and should absolutely be listened to, learned from, and held in esteem.

    But here’s the problem:

    Somewhere along the way, we turned “respect” into “dependence.”

    And worse — into self-disqualification.

    The First Command Was “Read.”

    Let’s not forget how this whole revelation began.

    “Iqra’.”

    “Read in the Name of your Lord who created.”

    [Surah Al-‘Alaq 96:1]

    The first divine command to humanity in the final revelation wasn’t “Obey.”

    It wasn’t “Ask your local sheikh.”

    It was Read.

    That matters.

    That tells us something about the relationship God wants us to have with His words.

    Not passive. Not distant.

    Active. Direct. Personal.

    Centralization Is a Legacy — Not a Divine Instruction

    The idea that you need a scholarly middleman just to approach the Qur’an?

    That’s not from the Qur’an itself.

    That’s from centuries of centralized religious control.

    Historically backed by monarchies, elite institutions, and systems that benefit from keeping the masses uninformed.

    When knowledge is centralized, power is too.

    But God didn’t restrict His message to a classroom or a pulpit.

    He sent it to a man in a cave.

    Who didn’t know how to read.

    And still — he was told to read.

    You’re Not “Unqualified.” You’re Untrained — and That’s Fixable.

    Let’s be honest.

    Understanding the Qur’an does take effort.

    It takes curiosity, humility, reflection.

    Sometimes, it takes asking scholars for context, depth, and clarity.

    But you’re not banned from trying.

    You’re not unworthy of reading.

    You’re not too “simple” to understand divine wisdom.

    You were created to seek.

    And the Qur’an was sent to be read.

    This idea that only the elite can approach it?

    That’s not religion. That’s gatekeeping.

    Teach Kids to Think, Not Just Recite

    And this is why it shows up in our work — in the way we write Islamic storybooks for children.

    We’re not just trying to get kids to memorize Arabic sounds without knowing what they mean.

    We’re not trying to make faith something you “hand off” to a specialist.

    We’re trying to give kids tools — emotional, intellectual, spiritual — to read, reflect, and ask why.

    If the Qur’an is a letter from God to humanity,

    then our kids deserve to learn how to read that letter.

    Not just repeat it.

    Not just hear someone else’s opinion about it.

    But really read it.

    Scholars Illuminate. They Shouldn’t Replace.

    We still turn to scholars.

    We still learn from them.

    But we don’t hand over our God-given right — and responsibility — to seek truth.

    This isn’t rebellion.

    It’s what revelation invited us to do.

    So the next time someone says:

    “Don’t read the Qur’an — you’ll misunderstand it.”

    Just ask:

    “But didn’t God tell me to?”

    Enjoyed this?

    Subscribe to our newsletter and get a free Islamic storybook — rooted in the Qur’an, crafted for curious young minds.

    👉 Join now — start with a story that actually means something.

  • Why So Many Stories Today Feel… Empty

    Why So Many Stories Today Feel… Empty

    Let’s just say it:

    A lot of the stories out there right now are kind of pointless.

    I’m not talking about the old stuff—we all love a good classic. I’m talking about the flashy, polished, algorithm-fed content kids are consuming today. Books, shows, games. There’s a lot of it.

    And yet, after it’s over, you ask your kid:

    “So, what was that about?”

    And they blink. Shrug.

    “I dunno… it was fun, I guess.”

    That’s the problem.

    Stories Are Meant to Mean Something

    There used to be a time when stories carried weight.

    When a bedtime story didn’t just put you to sleep—it stayed with you.

    Now? Stories are often just sugar.

    Easy to swallow. Zero nutrition.

    They make your kid laugh, maybe keep them quiet for a while—but what’s left behind?

    Nothing.

    And here’s the dangerous part:

    Kids are constantly learning from the stories they consume—whether the story means to teach something or not.

    So if all they’re learning is “be funny, be popular, be the loudest one in the room,” we’ve got a problem.

    Muslim Stories Are Built Different

    When we write Muslim stories, we don’t just write for fun.

    Yes, they’re engaging. Yes, they’re colorful.

    But they’re rooted in something.

    There’s a purpose behind the plot. A thread that ties the adventure, the characters, and the conflict back to something real. Something bigger.

    A moral. A reflection. A seed.

    Something your kid will carry with them long after the book is closed.

    Not Every Story Needs a Moral… But Ours Have One Anyway

    Now I’m not saying every story in the world needs to come with a lecture at the end.

    But here’s the thing:

    If you’re taking up a child’s attention, if you’re putting words and images into their mind—you owe it to them to make it count.

    Islamic stories—real Islamic stories—aren’t about forcing religion down kids’ throats.

    They’re about meaning.

    They’re about seeing their own lives reflected in a story that respects their intelligence and honors their potential.

    Shallow Stories Are Everywhere. Depth Takes Intention.

    It’s easy to throw together a story with talking animals and slap a punchline at the end.

    It’s much harder to craft a narrative that:

    • Holds a child’s attention

    • Speaks to their heart

    • And still quietly plants a lesson that grows with them

    That’s what we’re trying to do.

    We take a verse.

    We build a story.

    We wrap it all in a lesson that doesn’t scream—but lingers.

    We Don’t Just Want to Entertain. We Want to Elevate.

    Because our kids deserve more than just content.

    They deserve stories that:

    • Make them think

    • Make them feel

    • And make them better

    And honestly?

    If you can give a child one story that helps them understand a deeper truth about the world or themselves—then you’ve given them something more powerful than a hundred forgettable pages of fluff.

    Looking for stories that actually say something?

    Check out our latest Islamic storybooks.

    Beautifully illustrated. Soulfully written. Rooted in meaning.

    Because we’re done with shallow.

    We’re building better stories.

    We regularly share our eBooks for free with our newsletter readers, so feel free to sign up to grab it the next time it’s free. 

    Or you can find the paperbacks on our Book Catalog as always.

  • Are Muslim Storybooks Cool Again?

    Are Muslim Storybooks Cool Again?

    Let’s be honest. When I was a kid, Muslim storybooks were boring.

    They lacked color.

    They lacked representation.

    And most of all, they lacked soul.

    They felt like pamphlets pretending to be stories. Flat characters. Preachy morals. No real hook.

    Now fast forward to today—and the landscape seems to have changed.

    People say Islamic storybooks are cool again.

    But are they really?

    Each time I read a new one, I still find myself asking:

    “Did this story even have a point?”

    “Do they think kids are dumb?”

    It’s not enough to show a child a “good” character and hope they’ll copy the behavior.

    You have to convince them.

    You have to guide them through why it matters.

    A Verse, A Story, A Lesson

    That’s where our framework comes in.

    A verse.

    A story.

    A lesson.

    You want to teach kids Quranic verses—but let’s be real, they’re often too complex for a young mind to grasp directly.

    You want to tell them stories—but most stories these days are shallow entertainment.

    Sure, Disney stories work.

    They’re engaging.

    They’re visually stunning.

    But the values they promote? Not always ideal.

    So what if we could have both?

    Disney-Level Imagery. With Soul.

    What if we could create Islamic storybooks with all the heart, psychology, and emotional arc of a Pixar short—

    but rooted in spiritual truth and real moral weight?

    People often ask us if we use AI to create our illustrations.

    I usually smile.

    “You need a real illustrator. AI gives low quality.”

    Sure.

    But if you had a sword, would you fight with a butter knife?

    The truth is: AI is a tool, not a replacement.

    Human illustrators bring flair. Style. Emotion. That can’t be replaced.

    But give that illustrator the right tools?

    Suddenly, we can create Disney-level visuals—faster, sharper, and more accessible.

    All in service of stories that matter. Stories that stay.

    So… Are Muslim Storybooks Cool Again?

    They can be.

    That’s what we’re working on.

    Islamic storybooks that are beautiful and meaningful.

    That entertain and educate.

    That spark curiosity and reflection.

    Whether you love them or not, we’d love to hear your thoughts.

    Tell us what you think in the comments.

    Or even better—email us directly.

    We read every single message.

    We regularly share our eBooks for free with our newsletter readers, so feel free to sign up to grab it the next time it’s free.

    Or you can find the paperbacks on our Book Catalog as always.

  • Discrimination Through Lack of Representation

    Discrimination Through Lack of Representation

    Why what’s missing matters just as much as what’s there.

    We talk a lot about what children see — the characters they watch, the books they read, the heroes they grow up admiring. But we talk less about what they don’t see. And that absence can leave just as deep a mark. Especially when it comes to race, identity… and something as personal as hair.

    We Don’t Just See What’s There

    Our brains are powerful. They don’t just notice what’s shown — they also sense what’s missing.

    And for many of us growing up in the 90s and before, something important was missing.

    Who Got to Be Seen?

    Back then, TV shows and movies mostly featured white characters.

    If a Latina actress appeared, it was often as the housemaid. If a Black character made it on screen, they were rarely the lead.

    We didn’t question it much. It just became our “normal.”

    But underneath that silence, a quiet kind of discrimination took hold — one that didn’t shout, but whispered: your looks aren’t adequate, you need to change, and look like us.

    The Power of Being Left Out

    Over time, people started speaking up — and they were right.

    Lack of representation is more damaging than bad representation.

    Because when you’re not even included, it sends a stronger message than a stereotype ever could.

    The Hair We Hide

    Curly hair is a perfect example.

    For years, it wasn’t just overlooked — it was considered “unprofessional.”

    Job interviews, school photos, even everyday settings… the message was clear: straighten your hair if you want to be taken seriously.

    And many women did. Some still do.

    If that’s their choice, that’s fine. But it should be a choice — not an unspoken rule shaped by bias.

    What Kids Still Hear Today

    Even today, curly-haired girls hear,

    “Why didn’t you brush your hair?”

    But here’s what many don’t know:

    You can’t brush curly hair like straight hair. It puffs. It frizzes. It tangles.

    Curly hair follows a different routine — and different doesn’t mean messy.

    It’s just not what shows and stories have taught people to expect.

    Why Stories Like Zaina’s Matter

    This is exactly why we’re working on the storybook Zaina’s Curly Cotton Candy Hair.

    Because when kids see only one version of beauty — smooth, straight, flat — they start to wonder if something’s wrong with them.

    But there’s nothing wrong.

    Curly hair is beautiful.

    Black and Arab kids are beautiful.

    And their stories belong at the center — not just in the background.

    We regularly share our eBooks for free with our newsletter readers, so feel free to sign up to grab it the next time it’s free.

    Or you can find its print version on our Book Catalog as always.

  • Islam Makes No Sense — You Have to Make Logical Decisions

    I’ve heard it so many times.

    Maybe you have too.

    “Islam makes no sense.”

    “Religion isn’t logical.”

    “You have to make decisions based on facts — not faith.”

    It’s a popular one-liner from skeptics.

    And on the surface, it sounds reasonable.

    Who doesn’t want to be logical? Who doesn’t want to base their life on truth?

    But here’s the part most people miss:

    Logic only works when you have all the data.

    And let’s be real: you never have all the data.

    The Illusion of Certainty

    We like to think we make “rational” decisions.

    We imagine ourselves collecting information like computers, calculating outcomes, and choosing the most optimal path.

    But life isn’t math.

    It’s mystery.

    • You don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.

    • You don’t know how others will behave.

    • You don’t even fully understand your own heart, your own fears, your own ego.

    So when someone says, “I only believe in logic,” what they’re really saying is:

    “I trust my limited inputs more than any guidance outside myself.”

    That’s not logic.

    That’s pride in disguise.

    Humility: The First Step to Truth

    Let’s say you don’t believe in God. You don’t follow any religion.

    You’re just doing your best to figure things out based on reason alone.

    Sooner or later, you’ll face something that doesn’t add up.

    • A tragedy you didn’t see coming.

    • A decision that felt right — but went wrong.

    • A moment of joy that came out of nowhere.

    • Or a question your logic can’t answer: “Why am I even here?”

    And at that moment, you have two choices:

    1. Remain humble — accept that you don’t know everything.

    2. Get humbled — by life, by pain, by the weight of uncertainty.

    Either way, the truth catches up.

    Beyond Logic: What Happens When the Road Ends?

    Logic is a tool.

    A gift.

    But it’s not a destination.

    And once you reach the end of what logic can explain,

    how you choose to move forward defines your story.

    Some people stop and build walls of cynicism.

    Others take one more step — and open themselves to something higher.

    That step is called faith.

    Faith doesn’t reject logic.

    It begins where logic ends.

    It’s not blind.

    It’s brave.

    Islam Is Not Illogical — It’s Trans-Logical

    Islam never asked us to throw our minds away.

    It asked us to use them fully — and then admit their limits.

    It asked us to reflect. To question. To think.

    But also to surrender — not out of weakness, but because true strength is knowing your place in the universe.

    A faith that admits:

    • You don’t control everything

    • You’ll never know everything

    • But you are still responsible for the choices you make

    That’s not bogus.

    That’s real.

  • Between Extremes: Why Religion Offers a Middle Path for What We Eat

    In today’s world, when it comes to food — especially meat — you’re often expected to pick a side.

    Side A:

    “I eat any meat. Doesn’t matter how it was raised or killed — if it’s cheap, it’s dinner.”

    This is the norm. The default. Meat is a commodity, processed at scale, raised in inhuman conditions, and packaged far from the eyes of the consumer.

    Side B:

    “I can do no harm. I’ll only eat plants moving forward.”

    This is the counter-movement. A reaction to the cruelty of the first. The rise of veganism and vegetarianism comes from a deep discomfort with how disconnected we’ve become from what we consume.

    But in between these extremes, there’s us.

    The Middle Path: Clean, Compassionate, and Conscious

    As Muslims, we’re taught a third way — one that doesn’t just address the outcome (eating) but deeply considers the process.

    We eat clean animals:

    • No pork.

    • No predators.

    • Only species God has made permissible.

    And we only eat them when they’ve been treated with dignity, and killed in a humane and purposeful way — with God’s name spoken, and with gratitude in our hearts.

    This isn’t about tradition for tradition’s sake.

    It’s about ethics, balance, and purpose.

    When Meat Became a Commodity, Something Was Lost

    The vegetarian movement didn’t appear out of nowhere. It’s a pendulum swing — a reaction to an industry that treats living creatures as profit margins.

    Today, meat is often:

    • Raised in dark, confined spaces

    • Pumped with hormones

    • Slaughtered without care

    • Sold for the lowest possible price

    When cost becomes the only variable, quality — and compassion — are sacrificed.

    It’s not that people suddenly stopped believing in meat.

    It’s that they stopped believing in the way meat was made.

    Faith Was Always Ahead

    Long before documentaries exposed factory farms, religion laid down principles that centered human responsibility:

    • You cannot take a life except with purpose.

    • You cannot kill without God’s name.

    • You cannot mistreat animals.

    • You must show restraint, even when something is allowed.

    These aren’t vague sentiments. They are commands. And they are what elevate eating from indulgence to worship.

    History Always Swings… and Then Settles

    Pendulums swing — from excess to abstinence. From overindulgence to overcorrection.

    But eventually, they settle. The world remembers that extremes rarely last.

    The middle ground — one of conscious consumption, ethical sourcing, and spiritual intention — is not just the safe zone.

    It’s the steady one.

    The one that sustains over generations.

    So Where Does That Leave Us?

    As Muslim parents raising kids in a world full of extremes, we can model a better path.

    • We can explain where our food comes from.

    • We can teach that not all meat is the same.

    • We can raise our children to see eating as an act of responsibility — not just hunger.

    We’re not here to shame others, or to adopt labels.

    We’re here to witness.

    To show that faith is not the past — it’s the balance the world is seeking.

  • “Curly Hair Isn’t Pretty”: Why Muslim Parents Need to Rethink the Environment We Raise Our Kids In

    “Of course it’s pretty.”

    That’s how most of us would respond when our child — maybe with a pout or a flick of their own coily hair — whispers that dreaded line:

    “Curly hair isn’t pretty.”

    We reassure them. We speak words of love. We point to our own curls.

    But often, we stop there.

    And that’s where the real problem begins.

    Because the truth is: your child didn’t learn to think this on their own.

    They learned it by design.

    How Is Beauty Defined?

    Before you can fix anything, you have to ask:

    Where did they get this idea in the first place?

    Look around.

    • Their favorite doll has long, straight blond hair.

    • The cartoons they watch? Mostly light-skinned, smooth-haired protagonists.

    • Their classroom? Posters filled with Eurocentric imagery.

    • Even your compliments — maybe unintentionally — praise “tamed” hair days more than wild ones.

    Your child is absorbing this reality passively, day after day.

    And representation is mindshare.

    Mindshare becomes standard.

    And standards shape what your child will believe about themselves.

    So when they say “curly hair isn’t pretty,” it’s not a personal opinion.

    It’s the reflection of a world they were subtly trained to accept.

    Stop Talking. Start Rebuilding.

    Too often, we reach for band-aid solutions.

    A pep talk here. A “you’re beautiful the way you are” there.

    But if the books on their shelf don’t feature characters who look like them…

    If the dolls they hold don’t carry their skin tone or texture…

    If every media input tells them beauty is something else…

    Then no amount of words will do.

    Because the design of their environment will always win.

    Imagine a wall in your home that keeps falling down.

    You could keep patching it up, again and again.

    Or — you could re-architect it properly and be done with it.

    One is a one-time investment. The other? A lifetime of emotional debt.

    Which one are you choosing?

    Movies, Books, and Dolls: Your Child’s Reality is Built with These

    We often underestimate the tools we hand our kids.

    But these tools are more than toys or stories — they are blueprints for what your child believes is “normal,” “beautiful,” and “desirable.”

    Here’s how to shift the blueprint:

    • Books: Fill your child’s library with characters that reflect them — their hair, skin, names, and struggles.

    • Dolls: Choose toys that represent your family’s diversity — not just racial, but cultural and religious.

    • Shows: Curate what they watch. Seek out creators who prioritize inclusion. Yes, it takes effort. But it pays back in identity security.

    Don’t wait for the mainstream to “catch up.”

    Build your own shelves. Your own libraries. Your own heroes.

    We’re Not Just Raising Kids. We’re Raising Standards.

    When you build a new environment, you’re not just helping your child feel good about their curls.

    You’re telling them:

    “You were never the problem. The world just didn’t make room for you — so we will.”

    Because if we don’t fix the foundation, our children will keep growing up believing they’re “less than,” even when we keep telling them they’re “enough.”

    Representation is mindshare. Mindshare becomes the standard.

    It’s time we start designing the standard ourselves.

  • When Giving Up Feels Easier: How to Teach Children to Keep Going

    How Do Our Muscles Get Stronger When We Use Them?

    Strength doesn’t happen overnight. It’s built over time, step by step, through effort, challenge, and recovery. It’s a process that mirrors life itself. Rafiq’s mountain climb is a perfect example of this journey—one that speaks not just to physical growth but also to resilience and perseverance.

    Rafiq’s Climb: The Pain Before Progress

    When Rafiq first began his climb up the steep mountain, his legs ached with every step. Each push forward felt heavier than the last. His muscles were sore, tired, and screaming for rest. But this discomfort wasn’t a sign of failure. It was a sign of growth in progress. His muscles were working hard, facing a challenge they weren’t used to. That struggle was the beginning of strength.

    What was happening inside Rafiq’s body is the same thing that happens when we exercise. When we push our muscles beyond their comfort zone—whether by lifting, climbing, or running—tiny tears form in the muscle fibers. It sounds harsh, but these small tears are a natural and essential part of building strength. The body responds by repairing those fibers, rebuilding them stronger and more resilient than before. That’s why, over time, tasks that once felt impossible begin to feel easier.

    The Importance of Rest and Recovery

    But there’s a crucial part of this process that’s easy to overlook: rest. If Rafiq had climbed every single day without giving his body a chance to recover, his muscles wouldn’t have grown. They would have stayed worn down, exhausted, and weaker over time. It’s in the resting phase—when muscles are allowed to heal—that strength is truly built. That’s why taking breaks, getting enough sleep, and allowing time for recovery is just as important as the climb itself.

    It’s a balance of challenge and rest. Push hard, then pause. Strive, then step back. It’s how muscles grow. And it’s how we grow as people, too.

    Growth Beyond Muscles: A Life Lesson

    This process isn’t just about physical strength—it’s a reflection of how we build resilience in life. Every hardship, every struggle, every emotional climb leaves small marks on us. But these aren’t signs of weakness. They’re the beginnings of strength. And just like our muscles, when we give ourselves time to heal—time to reflect and recover—we come back stronger, more prepared for the next challenge.

    Rafiq’s climb wasn’t just about reaching the top of the mountain. It was about becoming stronger with every step. About understanding that struggle is part of growth, and that rest is a partner in building strength. By the time he reached the hidden valley, his legs were not just stronger, but prepared for future climbs. He had built resilience, step by step, rest by rest.

    Teaching Children the Power of Growth and Rest

    For children, understanding this process can change how they view challenges. They need to know that struggle is a sign that growth is happening. That soreness isn’t failure—it’s progress. And just as importantly, they need to understand that rest isn’t weakness. It’s part of the process.

    When they see this lesson unfold through Rafiq’s journey, it helps them connect the dots. That strength doesn’t come from avoiding challenges but from meeting them, pushing through them, and then taking time to recover. It’s a powerful cycle that teaches patience, perseverance, and self-care.

    So the next time they feel tired or discouraged by something hard, they’ll remember Rafiq’s climb. They’ll know that growth is happening, even if they can’t feel it yet. And they’ll trust that with time, rest, and perseverance, they’ll come back stronger—ready for whatever mountain lies ahead.

    A Story That Builds Strength and Perseverance

    And that’s the heart of the story in Rafiq Learns Perseverance. It’s more than a tale about climbing a mountain—it’s a journey about facing struggles, building strength, and learning that every challenge shapes us for the better. It’s a story designed to help children see that every hard step is a step towards growth, and that with patience and trust, ease will follow. A lesson they can carry in their hearts, long after the last page is turned.

  • Why Is it Important to Keep Trying Even When Things are Difficult

     

    The Promise of Ease After Hardship

    “With hardship comes ease.” These are the powerful words from Surah Al-Sharh (94:5-6), a reminder that no struggle lasts forever. Every challenge we face carries within it the seeds of relief, just waiting for their time to bloom. It’s a concept that feels simple, but when you’re standing in the middle of hardship, it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to wonder if ease will ever come.

    Rafiq’s Journey: Struggle Before Strength

    Rafiq’s journey is a reflection of this divine promise. His climb up the steep mountain wasn’t easy. With every step, pain pulsed through his legs. His paws ached. The path seemed endless. If he had stopped, turned back, and given in to his exhaustion, he would have never known what waited for him at the top. But Rafiq didn’t give up. He rested, he tried again, and each attempt became a little easier. His strength grew. His confidence blossomed. And finally, he reached the hidden valley—lush, quiet, and full of sweet raspberries. It was a reward that made the struggle worth it.

    That’s how it is with life, too. The first steps are always the hardest. The first time we face failure or rejection, it stings. The first moment of loss feels unbearable. But each time we stand back up, each time we try again, we grow stronger. The pain doesn’t last forever. The hardship doesn’t stay forever. Ease is always on its way, even when it feels distant.

    Why Keep Trying When It’s Hard?

    It’s a natural question: Why keep trying when it hurts? Why push through discomfort, struggle, and failure? Because perseverance isn’t just about reaching the end. It’s about the strength you build along the way. If Rafiq had given up, the hidden valley would have remained a secret, never discovered. His strength would have remained stagnant. But by continuing—step after painful step—he built resilience. He learned that his body could handle more than he thought. And he learned that great rewards come to those who don’t quit.

    This is the heart of perseverance. Not every path is meant to be easy. But every struggle carries within it the chance for growth, strength, and beauty. And when we lean into that struggle, trusting Allah’s promise that ease will follow, we often find that the greatest rewards lie just beyond the hardest climbs.

    Teaching Children the Value of Perseverance and Faith

    For children, understanding this can be life-changing. They need to know that feeling frustrated or wanting to give up is normal. That even when something feels impossible, every small effort is building strength they can’t yet see. And most importantly, they need to know that Allah has promised ease after hardship. That no struggle will last forever.

    Rafiq’s journey is more than just a story of climbing a mountain—it’s a story of faith, resilience, and discovering that strength grows with every step. And when children can see that lesson unfold through his journey, it plants a seed of courage in their own hearts. A courage that whispers, “Keep going. Ease is coming.”

    And that is a lesson worth carrying.

  • Understanding the Complexity of Sadaqah

    Understanding the Complexity of Sadaqah

    Sadaqah, or giving in the name of God, is a concept that most would think is fairly easy to convey. Until we actually see all the subtleties of life.

    Questioning Our Intentions

    Did you give only so that your community would cheer you and see you as a good person? Did you give as a favor in return for something that person already did for you? Did you give because it felt good, or because it would ease your own conscience?

    The Unasked Question of Intent

    In the end, what was the INTENT behind your act? This is the question that often goes unasked. Most people never take the time to really reflect and ask themselves these deeper questions. It’s easier to offer a surface-level explanation, especially when teaching children. So they might explain sadaqah like this: “Yes kids, you have to give during Ramadan this amount of money because Allah said so,” or “Yes, Allah wants us to give to the poor, so we do that.” End of story.

    Children’s Perception and Curiosity

    But children are often more perceptive than we give them credit for. They notice the gaps, the inconsistencies. They sense when our explanations are incomplete. They might ask, “Why did mom give to that charity but not to the smudged man under the bridge we drive near? Is he less deserving because he doesn’t look like us?”

    Avoiding Quick Fixes and Embracing Deeper Conversations

    And so we try to patch these gaps. We offer quick answers, explanations to quiet the curiosity: “That man might use the money for the wrong thing,” or “The charity helps more people at once.” Maybe these responses are true, maybe they’re not. But what we’re really doing is avoiding the deeper conversation about what sadaqah is at its core.

    Simplifying the Core Principle of Sadaqah

    We’ve thought about how we could convey the idea of sadaqah in a simple way to children, and found we could boil it down like this…The heart of sadaqah is : Giving Without Expecting ANYTHING in Return, and doing it solely in the name of God. Not for approval, not for praise, not even for self-satisfaction. It’s about sincerity. About purifying your intent. About giving simply because it is right, and because you recognize that everything you have is a blessing entrusted to you by Allah.

    Teaching Through Reflection and Example

    This is a lesson that requires more than words. It requires modeling, reflection, and open conversations with our children. It means being honest when we don’t have all the answers. It means teaching them that sometimes, giving is uncomfortable, complex, and requires trust. Trust that our giving—no matter how big or small—is seen by Allah. That it’s not about who sees us, but about Who we are seen by.

    A Storybook Approach to Teaching Sadaqah

    When we teach sadaqah like this, we raise children who give with open hands and open hearts. Who understand that the value of giving isn’t about how it looks, but about the love and sincerity it carries. And that is a lesson we’ve designed for you and your children through the storybook Nora’s Snowy Sadaqah. So that it can break down all these concepts, and weave it into a single story kids can have fun reading.



  • But mama, baba, I don’t want to fast when I’m older, it’s too hard!

     But mama, baba, I don’t want to fast when I’m older, it’s too hard!


    The nightmare—and for some of us, the reality—of our kids’ day-to-day. As soon as we hear those words, thoughts rush through our minds.

    “Where did I go wrong?” “Why doesn’t he want to fast?” “Doesn’t he realize how bad it is to say he doesn’t want to do Ramadan?” “Have I raised him as a good Muslim?” “I should’ve put him in an Islamic school.” “I should’ve homeschooled.” “I should’ve returned home to my Muslim country so he’d be surrounded by Muslims.”

    Ramadan Comes with Its Hardships

    While all these thoughts race through our minds, after they’ve settled and we’ve gathered ourselves, we realize there’s likely no silver bullet. Ramadan comes with its hardships. Somehow, over time, we learned to accept those very same hardships that once felt overwhelming.

    But let’s track back our process. What helped us?

    • Was it our parents’ praise?
    • Was it our all-Muslim community?
    • Were we just born with iman (faith) in our hearts from a young age?

    The answer usually lies in many factors, rather than one.

    In the Age of Instant Gratification, Hardship Is Hard to Swallow 🔍

    We have to remember that our times were different. Whether you’re a millennial or Gen Z, you likely grew up without screens at a young age. Sure, we had a TV at home, but as soon as we stepped outside, we were free again. This generation is different. But it doesn’t have to be the end-all, be-all.

    Depending on how easy they had it—ease of distraction from boredom, ease of getting any toy they wanted thanks to both parents working—we need to consciously instill values of perseverance. Slowly. Even if they’re used to none.

    Perseverance is built slowly, while surmounting the hardships of life. The easier we make our kids’ lives, the more we embed the idea that life is supposed to be easy. So even low levels of hardship can feel unbearable.

    Grit: The Key to Success 🎓

    A 2024 UK study of over 10,000 children found that the most important factor in a child’s long-term success wasn’t intelligence or talent, but grit—perseverance in the face of adversity.

    This is obvious once we grow up. We know that short-term sacrifice leads to long-term reward. But for kids, it’s not so obvious. So how do we make it obvious?

    Through something ALL kids love: Storytelling!

    Rafiq Learns Perseverance 🐻

    Inspired by the verse from Surah Al-Sharh:

    إِنَّ مَعَ الْعُسْرِ يُسْرًا

    Inna ma’a al-‘usri yusra.

    Indeed, with hardship comes ease. (Qur’an 94:6)

    Kids are introduced to the story of Rafiq the bear, who loved raspberries but struggled to compete with bigger bears who always got the best berries. Determined to succeed, Rafiq decides to climb to a hidden valley of berries.

    He faces hardships—sore muscles and exhaustion—but keeps pushing forward. Eventually, he discovers rows of berry bushes all to himself.

    image.png

    Along the way, kids will learn fun science facts about raspberry growth, muscle development, and the importance of perseverance. Our newly published story is designed to entertain and educate, amusing kids while sparking curiosity and reflection.

    The Best Part? 🚀

    We’re offering the eBook for FREE on Amazon this Thursday, March 13th, and Friday, March 14th!

    📖 Download it here: [Amazon Link]

    The only thing we ask? If you enjoyed the story, please leave us a review. Your feedback helps us continue creating stories that matter.

    Yours Truly,
    The Mayous Parent

  • A in Quran Memorization, F in Manners and Common Courtesy

     A in Quran Memorization, F in Manners and Common Courtesy

    You walk into a park. Fellow Muslim parents are there—so far, so good. Alhamdulillah for your community; it’s always nice to see other Muslims around. Then, your kids start sharing the play structure, and you notice the other kids don’t take turns, don’t show respectful behavior. It almost looks like they were caged up at home and finally got to the park.

    Well, all young kids look forward to park playtime (for young ones at least), but how we release that built-up energy can take many forms…

    He Knows 5 Surahs of the Quran

    You strike up a conversation with your fellow warrior parent—after all, people who have kids in this day and age are somehow warriors. Whether they see it or not…

    And they tell you, “Ohh, you know my children already know 5 surahs of the Quran now, mashallah! By the end of the year, they should know a whole hizb.”

    Then the child comes running, pushes away all the kids who are in line for the slide so that he can do it first and not wait for his turn. Turns around, guzzles up the whole juice box to refuel, and goes back blazing. No hi, no thank you, no manners whatsoever.

    BUT, let’s not forget—he knows his surahs…

    Mismanaged Priorities

    Quran memorization in itself is obviously good. We went through it as kids, and thankfully, since once we grow, we usually get less time and memory bandwidth to learn new surahs.

    But it seems like basic manners to be a human being should be on top of your priority list, way before you spend time with your kid learning the Quran.

    The reason for that, it seems to me, is that we’ve gotten used to the model of:

    1. Make money working 9-5.
    2. Spend money to solve problems.
    3. Go home, eat, sleep, and repeat the next day.

    But some problems require YOU, the parent, spending time with your kid to educate them. You cannot outsource everything. And in most cases, spending money for a Quran class and dropping off your kids there is a lot easier than actually spending time with them.

    Gymnastics in Diapers

    Many parents do this with late potty training too—where the kid still craps his pants but goes to gymnastics class. Again, it’s easier to pay for a class and see your kid play than it is to potty train them and wipe after misplaced stool debris…

    BUT, it has to be done. Some things just have to be done, regardless of the cost in energy and time.

    The Cherry on Top

    I know your kid will grow and become well-mannered by himself eventually, but if we can, let’s raise kids with akhlaq from a young age. If akhlaq are missing, then Quran memorization is really the cherry on top of the cake, and we’re missing all the layers below.

    In our humble way of making an effort in our community, all of our books include moral values meant to inculcate akhlaq. Whether it’s through learning how to share sadaqah with people who don’t look like us (birds vs. animals in Nora’s Snowy Sadaqah), or through Rafiq the bear, who shares his berries with his younger siblings in Rafiq Learns Perseverance, every single book has subtle, embedded moral values that build akhlaq.

    It may not make a difference the first time children read the book, but if many books embed it, and they read them enough times, the planted seeds of goodness will eventually grow in their minds.

    As always, you can find our books in our catalog at https://www.mayous.org/book-catalog
     

    Yours truly,
    The Mayous Parent

  • The Isolationist Theory and Why Walls Never Work

     The Isolationist Theory and Why Walls Never Work

    It was the year 221 BCE, The Chinese Empire decided that in order to protect itself from invaders, it would build the Great Wall of China. The Wall was vast, requiring constant repairs and a massive military presence. Guards and officials were sometimes bribed, allowing invaders to pass. The Wall was effective against small raiding parties, but Mongol leader Genghis Khan (13th century) and the Manchu invasion (17th century) showed that large, well-organized armies could simply go around, breach, or overpower the Wall.

    Why Walls and Isolation Always Fail

    Ultimately, if we want to know the future, knowing the past is always a good starting point. And history has taught us that walls—and isolation—always fail. Over time, the empire grows decadent and out of touch with neighboring nations, which always leads to its collapse.

    What Does That Have to Do With Kids and Parenting Anyways?

    I see a lot of Muslim parents building a wall around their kids—through a Muslim-only community, through limitations on what they’re exposed to. Now, that doesn’t mean we should sign up for Disney and let that run all day in the house, playing princess movies to our young daughters. But the middle is always the hardest to reach, and it is always where the greatest rewards are—if we are able to navigate as parents.

    Expose to Reality, and Teach Alongside Them

    The reason why walls fail is because they are the equivalent of a shield. Instead of helping the individual become strong enough to overpower an opponent, you are indirectly telling them they are too weak to face reality and should hold a shield all day long. Obviously, in any real fight, shields—or deflecting techniques—are part of the strategy, but they are never the only component a fighter has at their disposal.

    Use Shields, but Help Them Build Strength and Techniques

    If you teach them to recognize some of the faulty values in society, TV, or books, you are helping them learn to fight back. Learn to recognize the pattern, understand its values, and decide whether they want to internalize that or not. They are not passive anymore. They are active, aware, and deciding what they want to internalize.

    The Longer Path

    Yes, it means you have to spend time with your kid and not let them be brainwashed by TV. You can limit them to Muslim TV only, but they may be out of touch with friends who talk about other Western shows they don’t know about (isolation theory again). And one way or another, they will be exposed to content that isn’t Islamic.

    And it is not just age that matters. We think of time as time. But in reality, it is the events in the seconds that make up time—not just time passing through itself. If you don’t help your kids build a thought mechanism, a mindset that allows them to interpret the data around them, then you are not helping them be strong. You are letting them stay weak and shielding them from the harsh realities of the world.

    Walls always fail eventually.