Yasmin Turk serves as a board member and volunteer for organizations and co-founded a growing Muslim women’s giving circle - Photo by Yasmin Turk

 

Ramadan Traditions: An Austin Muslim Mother’s Family Story

.

My Ramadan experience evolves with me through different houses, cities and versions of myself.

As a child growing up in Phoenix, Ramadan felt like a secret adventure known only to our family and mosque community. Our neighbor called with concern when he saw our lights on in the pre-dawn darkness while the rest of the neighborhood slept. Suhoor with our family of seven was a lively mix: my little-kid energy ready to talk as soon as I opened my eyes, sleepy teenagers shuffling to the table, and mom’s breakfast with hot mint tea.

When I was young, I only fasted part of the day. Often beginning with determination, only to be tempted by a Popsicle or soda; noon suddenly felt like enough. By age 7, I completed my first full fast. I set that goal for myself, complained dramatically to anyone who would listen and did it! That first sip of water was sweet and reminds me of an Arabic saying: "The most beautiful rest comes after weariness."

What stays with me most are seemingly small moments. Once, my dad took me to Winchell’s Donuts before dawn. We arrived so early that we had to wait while the doughnuts were made. Standing in the shop while the city slept felt magical. That memory has shaped the feeling I tried to create for my own children.

Because Ramadan follows the lunar calendar it moves about 10 days earlier each year. This year it began on the evening of Feb 17 and will end with Eid al-Fitr on March 20. Over time I have fasted in every season — both long summer and short winter fasts. Ramadan taught me that time feels different depending on where you stand.

When I became a mother, Ramadan shifted. It became less about how it felt to me and more about how it would feel to my children. I wanted it to feel special and for our home to carry the quiet hum of something sacred.

We observed Ramadan alongside more than 1 billion Muslims worldwide, yet in our daily lives in Austin, we were often the only ones fasting in classrooms or at activities. I wanted my children to feel rooted and proud of their Muslim, American and Texan threads woven into their identities. I made it a point for us to break fast in community where they could feel belonging.

I made special foods and pulled out decorations, even when I was tired. We created traditions. Each night after iftar, the kids hung a star on a board painted like the night sky. I made shorbat addas and maamoul each year. We celebrated each child’s first full fast with joy. There were early-morning IHOP trips before dawn, sometimes just us, sometimes with friends. We made those moments into adventures.

Those years were loud and full while we were building memories one day at a time. I love hearing stories from my kids about fasting during school and seeing a treat wrapped in a napkin that they brought home in their backpack for break fast time. I hear pride in their voices when they talk about their perseverance, and I hope that quiet confidence and love for God holds through their lives.

Now my children are older. The house is quieter. There are no small hands waiting to hang stars. Ramadan has shifted again, and this season feels more like a reset. My routines are comfortable by design, but comfort is not what makes me grow.

Ramadan gently rearranges everything, nudging me out of autopilot and asking more of me. - Austin American-Statesman