Every year, Ashura comes around and we’re reminded of the virtues of fasting. We remember how Allah saved Musa (Moses) عليه السلام from the pharaoh, and we remember that the Prophet ﷺ fasted on this day out of gratitude to Allah. We also remember the heartbreaking events of Karbala and the martyrdom of Hussain رضي الله عنه. These are all moments that deserve reflection, but this year I found myself thinking less about the events themselves and more about the thread that seems to connect them. What do they all have in common? For me, the answer is surprisingly simple, and that is, they teach us what it means to remain principled when you feel completely alone.

I sometimes wonder if this is one of the greatest challenges facing Muslims in Britain today. Not open persecution or dramatic oppression, but something much quieter and in many ways, much more subtle. It’s the constant pressure to fit in. The pressure to avoid standing out. The pressure to soften your beliefs just enough to make everyone around you comfortable. It rarely happens in one dramatic moment. More often, it’s a slow process. You stop mentioning that you need to pray because you don’t want to inconvenience anyone. You laugh at something you know you shouldn’t because you don’t want to appear different. You stay silent when your faith is being misunderstood because speaking up feels awkward. Little by little, you begin adapting yourself to the world around you until one day you realise you’ve become more concerned about people’s approval than Allah’s.

When we read the story of Musa عليه السلام, it’s easy to focus on the miracles – the staff becoming a serpent, the sea splitting, pharaoh drowning. But before all of that happened, there was a man standing completely alone in front of the most powerful ruler on earth. The pharaoh wasn’t simply a king; he represented an entire system. He had wealth, influence, armies, authority and a population conditioned to accept whatever he said, even when he claimed that he is their lord. Yet one man stood before all of that and simply refused to compromise. Musa عليه السلام wasn’t following public opinion. He wasn’t checking whether the majority agreed with him. He stood because he knew where the truth was, even if he appeared to be the only one standing there.

Perhaps that’s one of the biggest misconceptions we carry today, that truth is determined by numbers. We assume that if everyone thinks something is acceptable, then it probably is. If a certain lifestyle becomes normal, then questioning it must be outdated. If millions approve of something online, surely it can’t be wrong. Yet the Qur’an repeatedly challenges this mindset. Allah tells us that most people do not believe, most people do not know, and most people, if followed blindly, would lead others away from His path. It reminds us that popularity has never been a measure of truth. History repeatedly shows us that those who stood for what was right were often the minority, at least at first.

وَإِن تُطِعْ أَكْثَرَ مَن فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ يُضِلُّوكَ عَن سَبِيلِ ٱللَّهِ ۚ إِن يَتَّبِعُونَ إِلَّا ٱلظَّنَّ وَإِنْ هُمْ إِلَّا يَخْرُصُونَ

“If you were to obey most of those on earth, they would lead you away from Allah’s Way. They follow nothing but assumptions and do nothing but lie.” [Qur’an 6:116]

I think about young Muslims growing up in Britain today. Imagine being fifteen years old and being the only one in your friendship group who doesn’t drink, vape or pursue relationships because your faith teaches you something different. Imagine being the only woman in your office wearing a hijab, or the only employee asking if there’s somewhere you can quietly pray during your lunch break. Imagine being the university student who chooses to lower their gaze or avoid certain social events while everyone else insists you’re missing out. None of these moments will ever make the news. There are no documentaries made about them. Yet I genuinely believe they are acts of great courage.

We’ve become so used to thinking that bravery only belongs on battlefields that we’ve forgotten about the quieter forms of courage. Sometimes courage is simply remaining true to your values when nobody around you shares them. Sometimes it’s refusing dishonest business practices even though everyone says, “That’s just how the industry works.” Sometimes it’s speaking honestly when staying silent would make life much easier. Sometimes courage is just carrying your prayer mat into work without feeling embarrassed. These moments may seem small, but perhaps they are the very moments that shape who we become.

The tragedy of Karbala reinforces this lesson in a different way. Hussain رضي الله عنه wasn’t driven by the pursuit of power or worldly victory. He understood that there are moments in life when preserving your principles matters more than preserving your comfort. From a worldly perspective, his situation looked hopeless. He was outnumbered and surrounded and the outcome seemed inevitable. Yet his legacy continues to inspire people centuries later because he demonstrated that success is not always measured by surviving; sometimes it is measured by refusing to surrender your integrity. The world often measures success by results. Allah measures it by sincerity and steadfastness.

One of my favourite moments in the story of Musa عليه السلام comes just before Allah parts the sea. His people look behind them and see pharoah’s army approaching. They look ahead and see nothing but water. As far as they are concerned, the journey is over. Their response is understandable: “We will surely be overtaken.” It’s a very human reaction. They looked at the circumstances and reached the obvious conclusion. But Musa responded with words that have echoed through history:

قَالَ كَلَّآ ۖ إِنَّ مَعِىَ رَبِّى سَيَهْدِينِ

“No! Indeed, my Lord is with me; He will guide me.” [Qur’an 26:62]

I find those words incredibly powerful because nothing around him had actually changed. Pharoah was still behind him. The sea was still in front of him. The danger was still real. The only thing that was different was how Musa عليه السلام saw the situation. Everyone else saw a dead end. Musa عليه السلام saw Allah.

That’s what faith really is. It doesn’t always remove the obstacle in front of you. Sometimes it simply changes how you look at it. It reminds you that your circumstances are never bigger than the One who controls them. It teaches you that even when you cannot see a way forward, Allah already has one prepared.

And so, as the day of Ashura comes again, I think the real question extends beyond whether we’ll fast, important as that is. The deeper question is whether we are prepared to remain committed to what we know is right when doing so becomes uncomfortable. Can we still hold onto our values when they are unpopular? Can we remain honest when dishonesty seems to be rewarded? Can we choose integrity over acceptance, principle over popularity, and Allah’s pleasure over people’s approval?

History remembers Musa عليه السلام because he stood when standing was difficult. History remembers Hussain رضي الله عنه because he remained faithful when compromise would have been easier. Neither man measured truth by the size of the crowd around him. This is one of the lessons the day of Ashura quietly whispers to us every year. Sometimes the path of truth is a lonely one. But if Allah is with you, you were never really standing alone.