I honestly wasn’t sure about how to start this, as the topic of Ramadan has become a bit of a confusing one for me.
While I don’t necessarily align myself to be a religious or spiritual person, growing up, Ramadan was always a time of togetherness, community, and belonging for me. It was early mornings at the kitchen table, half asleep, eating a delicious meal, late nights spent with friends, and being with a community that makes you feel known.
But I figured, despite the fact that my relationship with religion is uncertain, the special feeling that Ramadan brings me is certain. It’s still a month that slows me down by bringing me closer to people, giving me discipline, introspection, and community. That part has never gone away.
Given that this is my first Ramadan in college and my first one where I’m not with my family every day, I was obviously a bit nervous. For years, my parents were my built-in structure. They woke me up early in the morning to eat before sunrise, a meal commonly referred to as Suhoor, and always had a nice, warm, cultural dish at the table for Iftaar (the meal when the fast is broken) that was enjoyed with family and friends. Coming to college, I was a bit anxious about how I would recreate that on my own. The idea of swapping home-cooked meals for dining hall food wasn’t exactly comforting. And the thought of waking up before sunrise in a dorm room and trying not to wake up or disturb my roommate was equally as anxiety-inducing.
I was prepared for this Ramadan to feel a little lonely. But it hasn’t been at all.
When I told my roommate I was nervous about waking her up at 5 a.m., I didn’t really know what I was expecting. But to be fair, my roommate might just actually be the sweetest person ever. When I expressed feeling guilty about possibly waking her up, she immediately brushed those concerns off and offered to get up, eat, and fast with me.
There’s something a bit surreal and overall just humorous about waking each other up at 5 a.m., making coffee, curating yogurt bowls, and chugging water. I initially felt guilty. I didn’t want to make her feel like she had to be doing this with me, but she’s made it clear she’s not doing this because she feels like she has to, but because she wants to support me.
It’s not the same as at home. I’m not sitting with my parents and my cats in the kitchen. I don’t have my usual dishes waiting for me when sunset does finally come, and I’m not surrounded by the community that’s known me as a child and watched me grow up. Most nights, I’m breaking my fast with my friends at Argos and then immediately locking back in for upcoming exams once I finally have the energy to focus. The fatigue hits a lot harder when I still have classes, assignments, and responsibilities to juggle.
I know that for many who participate in Ramadan, keeping a balanced routine can be difficult. I know my sleep schedule has definitely been off. But now that we’re well into the month, I think I’ve found a balance. I’m still able to maintain a somewhat balanced routine, still managing to find the energy to go for a workout and to focus on classes.
In a strange way, this Ramadan feels a lot more intentional than it has in the past.
This is the first year where no one is waking me up but myself (or if I’m really knocked out, my roommate is the one forcing me to get up). It’s the first year where no one would know if I just decided not to fast since it’s not coming from a place of religious obligation. And yet, I still set my alarm, get up every morning, and commit to it.
I think that this month means different things to different people, and for me, it’s about discipline and community.
My relationship with religion isn’t as straightforward as it once was. I don’t move through Ramadan the same way I did growing up. But that doesn’t make the month any less meaningful to me in the sense that it grounds me. It’s still special.
And this year, I’m learning how to carry it with me no matter where I am.