Two transgender Muslims share their experiences navigating faith and gender identity in a conservative society.
It is a Sunday in Tanjong Katong, where the air is infused with the scent of rain, and the sounds of cars rush through narrow streets. This colorful neighborhood is dotted with coffee shops that reflect Singapore’s colonial past.
In one such coffee shop, two transgender Muslims sit side by side. Both women navigate the intricate intersection of religion and gender identity, albeit at vastly different stages in their journeys. This contrast sets the stage for our conversation.
Trans Muslims Have Always Been Here
Singapore has a rich history of transgender individuals. When Sir Stamford Raffles established Singapore as a trading hub in 1819, the Bugis people of Indonesia were among the first communities to migrate to this growing port city.
The Bugis culture recognizes five genders: makkunrai, oroané, bissu, calabai, and calalai, with calalai and calabai specifically referring to transgender men and women, respectively.
In the context of Islam, transgender individuals hold a complex place in history, both before and after colonial rule.
The term mukhannathan, often used in Classical Arabic, refers to effeminate men who took on roles traditionally associated with women. While some Western scholars distinguish between mukhannath and mukhannith, the latter is defined as those wanting to change their biological sex.
Some hadiths (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad) indicate that the Prophet cursed the mukhannathun and their female counterparts, while other accounts suggest he never condemned transgender individuals but rather those who deliberately impersonated the opposite gender.
Notably, early Islamic societies, like the Mughal Empire in India, treated their trans community with respect, offering them education and prestigious roles alongside nobility.
Today, Singapore is one of the few Asian countries where transgender individuals are officially recognized. Since 1973, sex reassignment surgery has been legal, allowing those who undergo the procedure to change the gender marker on their identity cards.
Despite these advancements, the trans community in Singapore continues to face discrimination in a society that largely upholds traditional gender norms—remnants of colonial attitudes. Being both Muslim and transgender amplifies the challenges faced by these individuals.
Two Trans Muslims, Two Different Stories
“My first encounter with the concept of gender binary was at the age of three,” recalls Ilyas, a 30-year-old bisexual transgender man.
“I took off my shirt after seeing my dad do it, but my mum yelled at me. She said only men could take their shirts off.”
Such childhood experiences quickly led Ilyas to realize he did not align with the gender assigned to him at birth, a topic he found difficult to discuss with his conservative Muslim family.
However, attending secular institutions like Tanjong Katong Girls’ School and engaging with online communities opened his eyes to diverse ideas of gender and sexuality.
As he speaks, Ilyas occasionally tousles his short hair, exuding charm. He recounts his previous life as a young girl without hesitation, revealing his dead name and his transition journey.
Ilyas began transitioning from female to male over a decade ago and underwent top surgery in 2020, presenting confidently as a man today. His body language is relaxed, and his bright eyes convey pride in both his current and past selves.
Sitting beside Ilyas is Jun, a 20-year-old content creator who identifies as a transgender man. He appears more reserved, his curls partially concealed beneath a tudung (headscarf).
Unlike Ilyas, Jun rarely smiles during our conversation and refrains from mentioning his dead name. Nevertheless, the two share common ground. Jun also grew up in a deeply religious and conservative household, attending an all-girls madrasah where discussions around trans identities mirrored the family’s conservative beliefs.
At 13, when Jun began questioning his gender, he was met with transphobic rhetoric from all sides, forcing him into silence.
The intense loneliness and gender dysphoria he experienced as a closeted trans Muslim man led to psychosis, suicidal thoughts, self-harm tendencies, and severe depression—struggles that continue to affect him today.
Navigating Gender and Religion
Despite these challenges, both Ilyas and Jun maintain that their faith as Muslims is just as vital as their gender identity. Their different practices reflect their current gender presentations.
In Islam, traditional interpretations emphasize strict roles defined by gender. For instance, men are prohibited from wearing silk or gold, while women wear the tudung.
Jun began wearing the tudung at birth and continues to do so around family, yet he prefers not to wear it when out alone, as it symbolizes femininity to him.
Conversely, Ilyas stopped wearing the tudung in his early teens, finding its weight burdensome. “It felt like a reminder of my assigned gender,” he shares.
Gender also influences how Muslims perform their prayers. Men lead prayers at the front, while women pray behind them, covering themselves from head to toe.
Initially uncertain, Ilyas ultimately decided to pray as a man after transitioning, feeling this alignment was crucial to his spiritual practice.
In contrast, Jun continues to pray as a woman despite identifying as a man. “When I contacted MUIS—the Islamic Religious Council of Singapore—about this, they told me I had to pray as my assigned gender because I must ‘accept God’s design,’” he explains.
The Process of Transitioning
Before transitioning, Ilyas adopted a masculine style to balance his gender identity with his family’s expectations. He began socially transitioning in 2015 and started physically transitioning in 2016, undergoing top surgery in 2021.
Ilyas’ motivation was clear. “I was terrified of being buried as a woman,” he states, referring to the gendered nature of Islamic burial rites.
Although he struggled with the idea of transitioning as a Muslim, he now views it as a way to strengthen his faith.
“My relationship with my gender has actually enhanced my connection to Islam,” he shares. “I couldn’t connect with my spirituality before because I felt misaligned, but transitioning helped me embrace my identity fully.”
For Jun, the road to transitioning remains uncertain. He grapples with familial rejection and the harsh realities of societal expectations. “My family says Islam doesn’t support transgender people, and I’m a sinner. This has made me doubt my faith,” he admits.
Seeking Support and Strength
Both Ilyas and Jun have found community and support within Singapore’s queer Muslim circles, such as Quasa and The Healing Circle.
While these spaces provide valuable insights and support, Jun finds the diversity of opinions overwhelming.
“I believe transitioning won’t lead to punishment, but I need more guidance from knowledgeable individuals,” he says.
He employs subtle methods to express his gender identity, including voice training and adopting a masculine appearance, all while navigating his family’s expectations.
“I take these steps because the reflection in the mirror should match who I am inside,” Jun explains, managing his dysphoria while adhering to societal norms.
The Path Forward
The relationship between Singapore’s Muslim and transgender communities remains complex.
Recent events, such as Samsung’s ad featuring a drag queen and a Muslim mother, sparked significant backlash, highlighting existing tensions.
Ilyas recalls his discomfort at the mosque: “The last time I visited was in 2019, and I felt judged by the men there,” he shares.
His strained relationship with his mother further complicates his journey. “While she hasn’t thrown me out, I moved out on my own because of the tension,” he admits.
In an Instagram post about Hari Raya, he writes about the bittersweet experience of family gatherings marred by constant misgendering and deadnaming, yet he also celebrates moments of acceptance, like an aunt acknowledging his identity.
Jun’s experience is similarly painful; after coming out as transgender during Hari Raya in 2021, he faced accusations of disrespect towards Allah from his family.
Despite this, both men remain determined to uphold their faith. “I am a Muslim, and that’s not going to change,” Ilyas asserts, highlighting the intrinsic connection between his faith and identity.
“I believe these two aspects of my life can coexist harmoniously,” he states with conviction.
Jun, while still conflicted, expresses gratitude for his blessings. “If God created us perfectly, then being trans and Muslim is my version of perfection,” he concludes.
