Last school year, I was invited as a guest speaker at my child's Islamic school for Career Day. The administration asked me to join a panel with two other parents to discuss my work as a writer. The goal was to expose middle school students to diverse professions and inspire them, followed by a Q&A session. I was flattered to be considered, knowing the school had plenty of other extraordinary parents to choose from. I eagerly agreed and added the event to my calendar, deciding not to prepare a formal presentation in advance. When it comes to public speaking about personal experiences, I find it more meaningful to speak from the heart and let inspiration guide my words. To keep things simple, I brought along two books: my self-published poetry collection and an anthology featuring two of my poems.
When the day arrived, I was escorted to the teacher's lounge, where I met the other panelists: an orthopedic surgeon and a hijabi police officer. That's when my nerves kicked in. The surgeon had an impressive array of props—a costumed skeleton, a model of foot bones, and various medical gadgets. The police officer came in full uniform, complete with a bulletproof vest, taser, and gun—her utility belt rivaled Batman's. Needless to say, the students were ecstatic as these two titans strode into the gymnasium.
Meanwhile, I clutched my modest offerings and wished I had brought more—perhaps my other books or even the puppets I use for storytelling. As I sat at the front table with my dynamic co-panelists, I felt unprepared and a little out of place. But I smiled at the eager crowd of students and teachers, waiting for my turn, still unsure what to say.
Thankfully, the police officer was the first to present, and I listened intently as she spoke about her career in law enforcement. Her presentation was brief but powerful, and the children were captivated. They admired her uniform and the confidence she exuded—a hijabi cop is truly an inspiring sight. Once she finished, the orthopedic surgeon took the floor. Being the one to go last gave me more time to gather my thoughts, though my nerves were still buzzing.
The surgeon delivered an impressive presentation, skillfully walking the students through his work as a foot doctor and orthopedic surgeon. He explained his tools, the importance of STEM careers, and why physicians play critical societal roles. Adding humor, he joked about how parents always dream of their kids becoming doctors, then asked how many students wanted to pursue medicine. Many hands shot up confidently, while others hesitated, fidgeting in their chairs or looking away. I immediately connected with those children—I had once been just like them. That moment sparked clarity, and I knew exactly what I wanted to say.
You can be a Muslim artist, too!
When it was my turn, I approached the podium with my two books and introduced myself. I asked the students how many loved English, visual arts, or performing arts. Those hesitant children lit up, their hands rising cautiously but excitedly. I told them they could absolutely build careers in the fields they loved. Then, I posed a question: who creates the books, illustrations, and models that doctors and police officers use to learn their craft? Writers and artists, of course! Even the books in their classrooms—the ones they use to study STEM subjects—are written, edited, illustrated, and designed by creatives. I emphasized that the fine arts and humanities are just as essential as the sciences, and anyone passionate about pursuing a career in the arts should never feel ashamed or pressured to choose a different path.
I shared my journey of discovering my love for reading and writing during grade school and how, despite exploring other fields, I ultimately realized that writing was my true calling. I assured the students that Allah blesses each of us with unique talents that can be used to benefit others. For me, those talents were art and writing. I shared how, as a young teenager, I deeply loved theater and even dreamed of pursuing a singing career. However, when I embraced Islam, I set those ambitions aside. Years later, I rediscovered that creative side of myself and redirected it toward education, channeling my passion into writing poetry, songs, and children's books.
I explained to the students that writing is a form of creative expression and a powerful tool for personal growth. It can be both therapeutic and enjoyable. To help them embrace this idea, I encouraged them to start journaling to process their thoughts, cope with the stress of school, and navigate the challenges of growing up. After emphasizing the joys and benefits of writing, I asked if I could share some of my poetry. Selecting one piece from each of my books, I read them aloud, ensuring I confidently projected my voice. To my delight, the students were captivated—they snapped their fingers in approval, a gesture of appreciation that filled me with gratitude and affirmed the power of storytelling to connect with young hearts and minds. My daughter later shared that her classmates told her, "Wow! Your mom is a rapper!"
I concluded my presentation with a heartfelt message, hoping to inspire the students to embrace their creativity without hesitation or fear:
"For anyone who needs to hear this: you are an artist! Whether you draw, write songs, act, or sing—even as a Muslim—you are an artist, and you can remain true to your craft while practicing Islam. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.
I once stopped creating, thinking my art contradicted my faith. But over time, I realized that my creativity didn't conflict with Islam—it complemented it. My art became a powerful tool to help others learn about Islam, educate children, inspire youth, and share stories that needed to be told.
Our faith provides guidance and boundaries but is also incredibly vast, allowing space for creativity and self-expression. You can do so much good with your unique gifts and talents—whether it's through healing as a doctor, serving as a police officer, designing as an engineer, inspiring through nasheeds, storytelling as a writer, or creating as an illustrator. Use the abilities Allah has blessed you with to make the world a more beautiful, meaningful place. Be the best version of yourself, and let your creativity shine!"
I wanted each student to leave with the understanding that their talents—no matter how unconventional—hold immense value and purpose. Creativity is not just a personal outlet; it can be a form of worship, a source of inspiration, and a powerful tool for positive change. Creative writing and other forms of artistic expression are just as important as STEM fields, and parents and educators must present children with the wide array of career options available. Tools like free aptitude tests can help children discover their strengths and gain insight into potential paths aligned with their skills and personalities. Ultimately, their journey is their own, and Allah has already laid a unique plan for them. We can encourage our youth to embrace their special talents and use them to contribute meaningfully to the world.
Wendy Díaz is a Puerto Rican Muslim writer, award-winning poet, translator, and mother of six (ages ranging from infant to teen). She is the co-founder of Hablamos Islam, a non-profit organization that produces educational resources about Islam in Spanish (hablamosislam.org). She has written, illustrated, and published over a dozen children’s books and currently lives with her family in Maryland. Follow Wendy Díaz on social media @authorwendydiaz and @hablamosislam.
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