the 'it girl' epidemic
islam didn't ask you to be 'her'. it asked you to be His.
if there’s one phrase that’s cemented itself into the vocabulary of modern day women, it’s this: be her. the elusive it girl. the girl who wakes up at 5am, journals with pastel highlighters, drinks iced matcha out of a perfect bamboo lidded cup, radiates from within, reads self-help books she might not even fully understand, hits the gym daily, wears matching loungewear, keeps a skincare routine fit for a vogue column. and most importantly, she looks effortlessly good doing it.
and for some reason, we all want to be her.
or at least, we think we do.
i came across a tweet once, mentioned by
in one of her newsletters. i’ve thought about ever since. it said:“i need muslim girl brainrot to end in the west and i need the girls to start reading some theory. every day can’t be matcha, vela scarf and dubai vlogs.”
it sounds harsh, i know. but i sat with it. and eventually, i understood, because there’s a truth hidden inside that critique:
what we consume is shaping what we become.
and right now, we’re being shaped into a polished version of ourselves that looks great online but feels hollow offline. we’ve turned depth into decoration. worship into aesthetic. and identity into image.
the ‘it girl’ narrative convinces you that there is always a better version of you. one that you just haven’t reached yet. a more productive you. a slimmer you. a more aesthetic you. and although personal growth is amazing, it becomes dangerous when the goal is tied to dunya approval. because you will never reach the end.
the prophet ﷺ said:
“if the son of Adam were to own a valley full of gold, he would desire two valleys…”
(al-bukhari)
the hunger of the nafs doesn’t die by feeding it. it dies by starving it. and sometimes, we mask the starvation as self-love. we call it a “glow up.” we say we’re doing it for Allah, but deep down, we know we’re still performing. we want to be seen. and being seen isn’t the problem, it’s why we want it.
when you realise that being seen by Allah is greater than being seen by the world, something in you changes. you stop running in circles. you stop breaking yourself into aesthetics. you finally breathe.
this obsession with becoming her — this picture perfect, colour coordinated, always glowing, always achieving girl — is slowly poisoning us. especially us, as muslim women. what we think is empowerment is often just another trap in disguise. a trap that’s pushing us to perform more than we reflect. to show more than we grow.
and the scariest part is that in chasing this ideal, we’re losing sight of our actual purpose.
we live in an age that worships productivity and calls stillness laziness. where being “that girl” has become a lifestyle, a marketing tactic, an aesthetic identity.
but here’s the thing:
Islam never asked us to be that girl. it asked us to be a God-conscious girl. a woman of taqwa. a servant of Allah who walks the earth with humility, who keeps her heart soft and her intentions sincere, who beautifies her soul more than her feed.
Allah never asked for your morning routine to be pinterest worthy. He asked for your fajr to be prayed on time.
He didn’t ask for your fridge to be stacked with acai bowls and oat milk. He asked for your nafs to be disciplined.
He didn’t ask you to glow up for your camera. He asked you to purify your heart for your Creator.
"he has succeeded who purifies it (the soul), and he has failed who corrupts it."
(91:9–10)
don’t get me wrong. discipline is beautiful. taking care of your health is sunnah. journaling, planning, meal prepping — none of it is haram. but when your whole life becomes an aesthetic project, when it’s no longer about sincerity but performance, when your ibadah feels like a checklist and your personality feels like a brand… we’ve missed the point. entirely.
you weren’t created to go viral.
you were created to worship.
so what about the nafs?
as i mentioned in my previous newsletter, sometimes i think that we forget we were warned about the self. that we were taught about its stages for a reason. that not all versions of ourselves are meant to be embraced. some are meant to be left behind. abandoned. transformed.
the Quran speaks of three main stages of the nafs:
an-nafs al-ammarah bis-su’ — the commanding soul, always calling us to evil and base desires.
an-nafs al-lawwamah — the blaming soul, caught between good and bad, always in self-reproach.
an-nafs al-mutma’innah — the soul at peace, satisfied with Allah and content in its submission.
the ‘it girl’ traps us in the second.
but Islam calls us to the third.
that mutma’innah peace, the one that only comes when you stop chasing illusions and anchor yourself to truth. that peace is unseen. it lives in private sujoods, secrets kept between you and your Lord, and the kind of forgiveness you give to someone who never says sorry.
the it girl ideal is not harmless. it’s not neutral. it’s built on capitalism, perfectionism, and image worship. it thrives on insecurity and comparison. it convinces you that you’re not doing enough until you’ve monetised your routine, colour coded your life, and performed your femininity for a crowd that’s not even watching for your heart.
and when we build our worth on aesthetics and approval, we’re building on sand. shaky. temporary. unstable.
the Prophet ﷺ said:
“verily, Allah does not look at your appearance or your wealth, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.” (muslim)
so tell me, better by whose standards? a glow up by what definition? because if your ‘glow up’ leaves your soul dimmer, your salah rushed, your heart anxious, your worship routine neglected — what are we really glowing for?
the scariest part of this it girl culture is that it’s made worship look boring. as if dhikr is less valuable than a journaling session. as if reading the Quran is less “productive” than a study vlog. as if prayer, the very action that we were made to perform, is not aesthetic enough to feel meaningful.
but to be the woman who awakes in the last third of the night to make wudu while the rest of the world sleeps. that’s true power.
to be the girl who cries in her sujood with puffy eyes and trembling hands. that’s divine beauty.
to be the girl who forgives, who stays silent when she could clap back, who walks away when her ego wants to win. that’s the glow up we don’t post enough about.
we don’t talk enough about the girl who wears the same jilbab every day, not out of lack but out of intentional simplicity.
or the girl who’s been fighting the same sin for years, but never stops turning back to Allah.
or the one who doesn’t post a thing but is known by the angels for her dhikr.
"indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous of you." (49:13)
so here’s your reminder: you were not created to be curated.
you weren’t meant to mould yourself into trends, constantly rebranding and reinventing to stay relevant. you were meant to return. to your Lord. to your fitrah. to your truth. and that purpose is too precious to let it get lost in tiktok algorithms or instagram reels.
the dunya will always give you someone new to become.
Islam gives you the space to remember who you already are.
the woman of value in this deen is often the most hidden. the most sincere. not the one with the most followers, but the one with the cleanest heart.
so, yes. i know the world is loud. i know the pressure to be ‘her’ is constant. but Allah is not asking you to be ‘her.’ He is asking you to be His.
and that version of you is already beautiful. not because of your skin routine or your wardrobe or your lifestyle. but because you are in constant striving. because you’re still trying. because you fall and get back up. because you choose Allah over and over and over again, even when the world makes that feel impossible.
so this is your reminder:
your sujood is more powerful than your productivity.
your sincerity is more valuable than your aesthetic.
your obedience is more beautiful than your ‘clean girl’ glow.
and maybe that’s the lesson i needed most: i know i’ve used the phrase “becoming her” before, but now i understand that becoming her is only beautiful when it means becoming His. the version of me that matters most isn’t the one the world sees, but the one He sees. the one that tries regardless of what life throws at her. the one that is always attempting to make sense of it all.
and maybe it’s time we stop romanticising the wrong things.
it’s time we bring our nafs to account. it’s time to stop building obstacles in this dunya which neglect our place in the akhirah.
"o soul that is at peace. return to your Lord, well-pleased and pleasing to Him. so enter among My [righteous] servants and enter My Paradise." (89:27–30)
that’s the only aesthetic that matters in the end.
love, imaan x
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Beautiful thank you for this reminder. I absolutely adored this newsletter
I love everything about this.
Allahumma baarik