In Muslim communities across the West, the concept of the "haram police" has become a phenomenon. They are considered to be the men or older aunties in your local Muslim community who nitpick younger Muslim women. For example, if you don't wear a hijab, you will be shamed for this choice. But if you do wear a hijab, they will tell you that you aren’t wearing it properly. If you aren't fasting for Ramadan, they will ask questions and make sure you feel guilty to the fullest extent.
A key element of these individuals is that they don't often practice Islam perfectly themselves. For example, a 22-year-old named Mohammad from your local mosque, known on TikTok as "Moe money," likes to comment on women and their hijabs, telling them to dress more modestly. However, despite his "holier than thou" claims, he actually works at a nightclub and has a girlfriend. And his mom, a strict auntie in the community, knows about his activities — but she turns a blind eye.
Similar to other Abrahamic religions, like Christianity and Judaism, Islam has fundamental rules that followers are meant to abide by. However, Islam does emphasize an element of free will and intention. Judgment is not encouraged — or even allowed — in the Quran, yet it is common in the Muslim community.
While Islam is often associated with the Middle East, some Muslim majority countries include Indonesia, Malaysia, certain republics of Russia and Albania. Every Muslim community has its own take on different rules, architecture within mosques, styles of hijab and ways of prayer.
The problem starts when diverse Muslim communities congregate in non-Muslim countries. For example, the Muslim community in Arizona is a diverse one, composed of Sunnis and Shias, Lebanese and Saudis, Iranians and Bosnians. Members of the community have different cultural backgrounds, and therefore, different takes on Islam.
Islamophobia
Judgment and policing of women is not unique to a specific Muslim community; it's a worldwide issue. Muslim women, particularly hijabi women, face judgment and discrimination from society at all angles.
While we are no longer experiencing discrimination at post 9/11 levels, many people still hold hostile beliefs toward Muslim women. Many non-Muslims believe hijabi women are "oppressed" and forced to wear the hijab; however, this is a misconception. Hijabi women often choose to wear the hijab, citing religious duties and an intention of modesty.
Dalia Almanaseer is a student at Glendale Community College and plans to pursue an architecture degree at ASU next fall. Almanaseer started wearing a hijab when she was 18 years old, feeling it represented a new chapter in her life, one marked by maturity and growth.
"I couldn't say I had one reason. My story was different. I never planned to wear it [a hijab] until I'm 30. But one night, I just woke up and wore it. I feel like it's just guidance from God for me … and I'm glad that I did," she said.
Almanaseer describes her life changing in many ways after wearing a hijab. Her friend group from high school drifted away and many of her acquaintances unfollowed her on social media.
While she felt unsure at the beginning of her new journey, she was positively surprised to find that many people were respectful toward her religion.
"I had some insecurities in the beginning. I felt like maybe people will look at me differently," Almanaseer said. "But, after a little while, I've seen more people who are non-Muslim be more respectful. I felt welcomed in many places. I can say most of the people that I talked to in high school I don't talk to anymore, but now I have a different social life and circle."
'Haram police'
Almanaseer described her experience with community members who judged her for wearing the hijab while being a curvier woman.
"For me, a lot of people comment on it like, 'Oh, why are you wearing that? You're showing too much body shape,'" Almanaseer said. She described the comments directed at her for wearing tight clothing while wearing the hijab were not directed toward skinnier women who also wore the hijab.
"I can be wearing whatever, and they should not even care about that. But, in the Islamic hijabi community, they judge, they talk about it, they would even make up rumors," Almanaseer said.
She also described judgment toward women wearing a particular style of hijab. Rather than the traditional head scarf, Almanaseer would sometimes wear a turban. "And they'd be like, 'Well, she's not a hijabi, period,'" she said.
This policing of hijabi women can lead many to struggle with their identity and even resort to removing their hijab completely. "I've seen multiple girls who would face the 'haram police,' and they take it [the hijab] off. They'd be like, 'Well, I'd rather not be seen as a hijabi woman and get this much judgment, than wearing it,'" Almanaseer said.
She also felt like the community's policing of women was unfair and discouraging, especially when many were not practicing parts of the religion themselves. "We're just sinners judging other sinners," Almanaseer said. "This type of pushiness and being so mean about it, it's not going to help anything."
Almanaseer said she felt that a lot of the judgment in American Islamic spaces stems from being a minority group. She described people in her home country, Jordan, as being more accepting of differences within the religion and ways of practicing. In Jordan, a Muslim majority country, it is not uncommon to see women wearing the hijab in public. In the United States, it is more of a rarity. Almanaseer said this difference leads many Muslim Americans to judge their own community members.
"We have more knowledge back home than here, and a lot of things get lost in translation," she said.
Over a year into her journey of wearing the hijab, Almanaseer reflected on her growth and changing perspective on Islam.
"I struggled with it in the beginning," Almanaseer said. "I was like, 'I'm losing myself, I'm a much different person right now.' But I think it’s part of my identity now. It helps me be more mature," Almanaseer said. "In my opinion, I have the responsibility of carrying Islam with me. People look at me and think, 'Well, she's Muslim, look at her, how she behaves.'"
Malia Sekandari is a junior studying business law at the W.P. Carey School of Business. She is an Afghan American and a member of the Muslim community. Growing up in Arizona, Sekandari attended public school while regularly going to an Islamic Sunday school.
"[Growing up] I had mostly Muslim friends. My family's very, very religious as well. So I mean, I was always in that [the Muslim] community," Sekandari said.
Sekandari described her Muslim community as a diverse one. "My teachers were mostly Arab, but the students that I knew were mostly Pakistani," she said.
At 10, she started making her own religious decisions when it came to fasting and praying. "They [the decisions] were heavily influenced by family, but I was making those decisions for myself," Sekandari said.
When Sekandari entered her university years, she felt like her personal religious decisions reached a new level, saying her choices were no longer guided by expectations, but by personal callings instead.
"It wasn't really until college I discovered that I want to do these things for myself, not necessarily based on familial obligations," Sekandari said. "I was like, 'I want to pray not just because my mom is telling me to pray, but because I actually see the benefits of it, and want to do it.'"
Before college, Sekandari experienced racism for being Afghan, both within and outside of the Muslim community.
"I don't wear the hijab, but when I went to Sunday school, I would. It would not really be worn properly. I would maybe show a little bit of my hair or my neck would be showing or something small," Sekandari said.
"I would get nitpicked on, and they [the students] would fully expose me in front of the class and be like 'Your hair is showing,' or 'Your neck is showing,' or something like that," Sekandari said.
Sekandari said she believes judgment within the Muslim community holds back progression in religion and steers young women away. "Things like that are really hindering the Muslim community because we keep on projecting this 'I'm better than you, I'm gonna tell you what to do' type of mindset," she said.
Dissecting the culture
Fota Sall is a PhD candidate researching maternal health outcomes in Black women. While pursuing her PhD, Sall is also conducting a research project surveying Muslim Americans on ideas of purity.
Sall grew up in a West-African Muslim family in Virginia. "I wasn't raised around a lot of other Muslims, other than [those] in my family and then a few people in town, but it wasn't a lot," she said.
When Sall relocated to Arizona in pursuit of her studies, she noticed a large Muslim population in the area and wanted to research local attitudes and opinions.
"A lot of the questions touch on purity, thoughts on purity, thoughts on virginity, and what knowledge people actually have of sexual reproductive health," Sall said. "I do feel like when I'm talking to my family, or just people out in the community, a lot of people have opinions or thoughts on these topics that aren't always biologically accurate."
A lack of knowledge around sexual and reproductive health is not uncommon in America, especially among minority communities. "It can be harmful to all of us, but especially women and young women," Sall said.
Sall said many misunderstandings stem from learning incorrect knowledge back home and teaching it to the younger generations. However, many young Muslims are open to learning more and educating themselves on health-related topics.
"I'll do my research, and we'll talk about it. They'll be like, 'Oh, OK, that's something new that we didn't know,'" Sall said.
Sall described her way of practicing Islam as "going by the book," saying that her way is not lesser than any other way of practicing the religion.
As a non-hijabi woman, Sall described wearing the hijab as a "difficult area."
"People who aren't Muslim, it's going to make them inherently uncomfortable to see you covering up. Then you have the Muslims judging you for not doing it exactly perfectly," Sall said. "Also, if you cover up too much, then a lot of people, Muslims, and non-Muslims alike, will think you're being too radical."
This judgment particularly impacts young women. Sall said young girls who are trying to learn more about Islam may feel overwhelmed by judgment, including online think pieces about "what you should be doing as a young Muslim girl, or what you should be wearing," she said. These comments may make young girls feel excluded from religion.
"We, just Muslims, can be aggressively judgmental about what we're doing or what women are wearing or if someone's drinking or doing this or doing that," Sall said. "None of us here are perfect. I'm sure other communities do it a lot, but this is the community I know and I know that we can be extremely judgmental to a detriment."
Edited by Leah Mesquita, Natalia Jarrett and Abigail Wilt. This story is part of The Purity Issue, which was released on December 3, 2025. See the entire publication here.
Reach the reporter at jbanihan@asu.edu
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Jude is a junior studying finance. This is her second semester with The State Press.
