Urban Modesty Brooklyn

 

I’m a Mother of Six. A Wife. A Fashion Lover. A Muslim Woman. A Dreamer.

And I’ve been trying to do it all—while reminding myself why, its for Allah.

Starting a company while raising six kids has been the battle of my life. It’s chaotic. It’s humbling. It’s exhausting. But it’s also the most soul-fulfilling journey I’ve ever been on, and I'm grateful for it.

As a Muslim woman in America, I’ve always known becoming modest wasn’t going to be easy. But I never thought it would feel so lonely.  I didn't wear hijab until I was 20.  Even then I struggled dressing modestly.

Shopping for modest cloth didn't help either.  There were so many times I stood in dressing rooms angry. I’d find a piece I wanted to love—only to realize it had a plunging neckline, or the fabric was so sheer I’d need to layer three things underneath just to step outside. I’d walk out thinking, Why is it so hard to find something that covers me and still lets me feel beautiful?  Why are Zara, H&M, and so many other brands pushing society to undress and that modesty is oppressive?

We’re out here raising babies, nursing toddlers, running errands, attending meetings, holding down jobs, running businesses—and in the middle of it all, we’re still trying to uphold our modesty, not just as a style choice, but as an act of worship.

Modesty is part of our ‘ibadah.
It’s not a trend. It’s not optional. It’s our identity. Our dignity.

But the world we live in doesn’t always understand that.

We’ve all felt that awkward tension—the stares at the grocery store, the subtle looks in job interviews, the discomfort when you walk into a room and your hijab makes people quiet down. Even today, headlines blast terrible experiences:

➡ “Muslim woman denied job for wearing hijab.”
➡ “School bans headscarf in sports.”
➡ “Mother says she was asked to ‘remove that thing’ during airport screening.”

And we’re just expected to brush it off. Keep going. Smile through it.

But I wanted something more than survival. I wanted joy. I wanted Muslim women to feel seen. To feel elegant. To feel empowered in their modesty—not despite it.

That’s why I started Urban Modesty. Not just a brand, but a community. A sisterhood.

I wanted to design pieces that spoke to us: the women cooking dinner while replying to work emails. The ones trying to keep their toddlers still during salah. The ones who love style but refuse to compromise their values. The ones who know that beauty and modesty can—and should—coexist.

Every collection we create is built around you.
I test the comfort. I think about breastfeeding moms. I think about long commutes, quick wudu breaks, and unpredictable weather. I design knowing what it’s like to carry a diaper bag in one hand and a laptop in the other.

I know this life. I live it every single day.

Running a business while raising six kids has taught me that balance is a myth—but intention is everything. Every time I feel overwhelmed, I remind myself: I’m not just making clothes. I’m making a way for women to express their love for Allah without giving up their sense of self.

Because we deserve to feel good. We deserve ease. We deserve to be heard.

And if you’ve ever felt unseen in a world that doesn’t understand you—Urban Modesty was made for you.