On Choosing to Stay Single: A Reflection

Someone asked me the other day why I’m still single as a Muslim . It wasn’t a new question. In fact, it’s one I’ve been asked many times, often accompanied by well-meaning advice:

Marriage is half your deen. Marry for the sake of Allah.

But what does that really mean? I have reflected on this deeply, not just in passing, but in the quiet of my nights, in my moments of solitude, and in the depths of my responsibilities.

It’s not that I can’t get married. It’s that I’m choosing not to.

There are many reasons why. One of the most profound is the responsibility I carry—the responsibility of raising truly special children. Autism is not a passing phase. It is not something that can be set aside or accommodated in a way that does not fundamentally alter the way life is lived. Actually, autism changes your life and the way you live. It shapes your routines, your priorities, the very rhythm of your days. And while I do not regret a single moment of this journey, I also did not sign up for it. None of us do.

Yet, here I am, entrusted by Allah with this path. And when you have been given such a trust, every decision must be weighed against it.

Bringing someone else into this dynamic is not a decision I take lightly. It is not a matter of simply wanting companionship or the security of a partner. It is about trust. How can I trust that someone will stand beside me and truly understand the weight of this life, when they have never lived it? How can I trust that they will love my children not as an extension of me, but for who they are—fully, deeply, and without condition? Because anything less is not enough.

The reality is, many women enter Islamic marriages with hope, only to find themselves trapped in circumstances they never foresaw. I read their stories every day—women who thought they knew their husbands, only to realize too late that they had no idea what they were stepping into.

In Western culture, relationships unfold gradually; there is space to understand one another before making a lifelong commitment. But in Islam, marriage often comes first, and the discovery of one another happens after. And by then, it is often too late.

I will not take that risk—not for myself, and certainly not for my children.

It is not that I reject marriage or I don’t trust the will of Allah. In fact, I would love to be in a supportive, loving partnership. I would love for my children to witness a healthy, happy marriage, to see what mutual respect and devotion look like. But at what cost?

If the risk outweighs the reward, if the uncertainty is too great, then is it not a greater act of love to remain as we are?

And so, I choose differently. I choose my children. I choose the responsibility that Allah has placed in my hands. I choose the role that I have been given, not out of resignation, but out of acceptance, out of love, out of the certainty that this is where I am meant to be.

To many, it may seem like a lonely choice. But I am not alone. One of my most favorite surah in the Qur’an, one that I repeat to myself every single day, is:

“Indeed, my Lord is with me; He will guide me through.” (Qur’an 26:62)

If I have Allah, how can I ever be alone? My comfort is in Him. My strength is in Him. And my certainty is in the fact that no matter what path I walk, He is walking it with me.

My soul belongs to Allah. Perhaps it was written for someone else too, but only Allah knows that which we do not.

“And they plan, but Allah plans. And Allah is the best of planners.” (Qur’an 8:30)

If my soul was written to be joined with another, then it will happen in its time, or in another life, or not at all. And I am at peace with that.

And if I am blessed with love in this life, then he would have to be one of the most compassionate, understanding, patient men to ever be blessed with. A man who sees the responsibility I carry and does not see it as a burden, but as an honor. A man whose kindness is unwavering, whose faith is deep, and whose presence brings ease, not hardship. Alhamdulillah—if such a love is written for me, then I will welcome it with gratitude. And if it is not, then Alhamdulillah still, for Allah is the best of planners, and He does not withhold except to give in greater measure.

Rumi once said;

“Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you.” This is where I am. This is the path Allah has given me. And if marriage is a door that remains closed, then I will walk the path that is open, with full conviction, with full trust in my Creator.

People may not understand. They may wonder, they may ask, they may assume. But the answer is simple: My children were entrusted to me by Allah, and I will not take that trust lightly. My life belongs to Him, and so does my choice.

And if I am blessed with love in this life, then Alhamdulillah. And if I am blessed only with the love of Allah and the love of my children, then Alhamdulillah still.

For that, too, is enough.