By Dania Daud

Before dawn breaks, Navaal Ala’s alarm jolts her awake in the silence of her bedroom. She goes into the kitchen and gathers her plates for sehri (sometimes called suhoor), the last meal before sunrise and a day without food or water. By sunrise, she’s finished eating, completed her Fajr prayer and makes her way to the GO train.

Commuting through to the Greater Toronto Area to Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) on a weekday during Ramadan is like threading a needle between two different schedules: one governed by the clock and campus life, the other by rising and setting of the sun. 

The second-year occupational health and safety student spends most of her weekdays rotating between lectures, studying in the Student Learning Centre, meeting friends between classes and the multi-faith room in the Student Campus Centre. She attends long classes where hunger settles. Breaks become moments to sit, rest or pray instead of grabbing food—which she would usually be doing.

“I think the middle of the day is the hardest for me personally,” says Ala. “It’s around the time where your breakfast and your sehri is starting to wear off.”

On a campus where she finds food is often the centre of social life, Ramadan adjusts how Ala spends her time. She still meets with friends but plans diverge from coffee runs or quick meals. Instead, she uses the time to catch up with friends and take short breathers together. Ala carries a date and a bottle of water in her bag to break her fast after Maghrib prayers at sundown, before starting her journey back home on the train.

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Ramadan is often understood in simple terms: no food, no water from sunrise to sunset. But for many Muslim students, the month changes daily routines in ways that aren’t immediately visible. Early mornings for sehri and late nights for prayer mean students are running on less rest, while still expected to meet the same academic demands. Days are organized around prayer times, commutes and class schedules, all while fasting. On a commuter-heavy campus like TMU’s, this balance can feel especially delicate.

The routine also takes a physical toll. A 2024 study published in the international journal Healthcare found that fasting often disrupts sleep patterns and increases daytime fatigue among university students, particularly for those juggling fixed schedules. Shortened sleep and early wake-ups intersect with the demands of campus routines in a way that’s unique to students who are balancing both fasting and academic obligations.

But the fasting experience is not one of hardship. In Islam, rather, it is described as a time of structure. Sadiq Ahmed, a Toronto-based Islamic scholar, says Ramadan is meant to be “a time for our spiritual reformation,” a period when believers put aside worldly duties and focus on developing their relationship with god.

Ahmed also says that fasting teaches purpose and discipline. “Ramadan gives you an opportunity to balance your life with intention, with discipline,” he explains. Instead of stepping away from daily responsibilities, fasting asks people to move through them more deliberately.

That intention plays out in small, repeated choices for Ala. She plans her day carefully, pacing herself through lectures and commutes. For her, prayer is more of a pause than a disruption. As the sun sets and the day finally loosens its grip, the fast ends. But the routine begins again before dawn the next morning, woven into lectures and long train rides.

For a handful of students, religious practice becomes part of daily life. It tags along in lectures, onto train rides and into in-between moments on campus.

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During a day filled with back-to-back classes during Ramadan last year, Zainab Kashif finds herself sitting in class, exhausted and distracted. She’s wondering why she feels so heavy during a month that’s supposed to bring clarity—a time she considers  beautiful spiritually. The fatigue catches her off guard. Fasting, commuting and keeping up with coursework combine together and the effort it takes just to stay present feels harder than usual.

Kashif moved to Canada from the United Arab Emirates (UAE) just over a year ago and the contrast is clear. Back home, Ramadan was built into daily life. School days were shortened, teachers adjusted expectations and faith never felt like it required negotiation. As a second-year graphic communications management student at TMU though, lectures and deadines don’t pause for Ramadan.

She says holding onto her faith during Ramadan takes dedication. “You have to really, really be firm in your faith and be very careful with the environment that you go to and the environment that you place yourself in,” she says. When the culture and society around you don’t align with your faith, it can be harder to stay on track.

Kashif says she already feels anxious about being visibly Muslim in Canada, a feeling only heightened during Ramadan, when she finds her religious practices are more obvious.

She says this visibility feels more worrying in the presence of heightened Islamophobia. A 2023 study from the Angus Reid Institute found that Canadians are more likely to hold unfavourable views on Islam than any of the five other most-observed religions in the country. “It’s very easy to feel like ‘am I in danger too?’” says Kashif.

The feeling doesn’t come from nowhere. In the time since Oct. 7, 2023 and as the genocide in Gaza continues, reports of anti-Muslim hate crimes have increased across Canada. In February of this year, Toronto police investigated a threatening phone call made to a local Islamic center just weeks before Ramadan—something that has many Muslim communities in the city worried.

The fear shows up in small moments, like when she’s praying in the corner of a building or abstaining from food and water while everyone else in the room is eating. During prayer she says she feels particularly vulnerable. “You’re praying, you’re helpless. I’m not going to stop my prayer and attend towards you. I’m going to finish my prayer.”

Research indicates that Muslim students often feel both exposed and marginalized in Western higher education settings. A 2021 study from The Journal of Educational Philosophy and Theory on Muslim students found that participants experienced subtle and overt forms of discrimination and hypervisibility—such as being stared at, avoiding certain spaces or feeling like their religious identity marked them as “different” in academic areas. This, in turn, affected their psychological well-being and sense of belonging.

Ahmed says this kind of strain is not uncommon, particularly during Ramadan, especially when fasting makes faith more visible, whether that’s through declining food in public or stepping away to pray during class breaks. Seeing others eat and drink while abstaining can feel especially heavy at first but determination plays a significant role in how students move through that discomfort. He says when you have it in your mind that you’re doing this for the sake of your faith, it’s easier to manage. He adds that the emotional challenge itself becomes part of the spiritual process.

For Kashif, observing Ramadan in Canada has become about endurance. Between academic pressure and the emotional burden of being visibly Muslim, the month asks more of her than it once did. But she still keeps going. 

When the days feel long, she repeats the same reminder to herself: “The greater the struggle, the greater the reward.”

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When Washma Mahmood, a first-year biomedical sciences student, thinks back on a moment when her relationship with Ramadan deepened, her mind goes back to one night during the COVID-19 pandemic. She’s around 13 or 14 years old, listening to a series of Qur’an commentaries online and the speaker’s explanation stays with her. The commentaries framed the month as something meant to guide how a person moves through their days.

This understanding followed her into university.  Her days now revolve around long commutes, lab schedules and overlapping deadlines, all unfolding alongside prayer times and religious study during Ramadan. Balancing both has been demanding but the memory of that early experience continues to guide how she approaches the month. “It made me realize the capability that I have in myself to improve my spirituality and to improve my faith, and not only that, but also to work harder in my academics,” she says.

A 2022 study published in the Journal of Economic Behaviour & Organization examined the effects of Ramadan observance on students’ educational outcomes and found that structured religious routines during the month were often connected to stronger self-discipline. The researchers point to Ramadan’s daily practices as something that can reinforce focus and perseverance—not disrupt it—especially for students managing demanding schedules.

Ahmed says that structure is built into Ramadan by design. The month offers a framework that encourages people to be deliberate about how they move through their days. “Ramadan actually teaches us to be more purposeful with our time, with our energy,” he says. “We can prioritize our essential tasks, pace ourselves and give as much time as possible to worship.”

For Mahmood, the discipline she practices in her faith supports the discipline she needs in school. For her, the month becomes less about what she gives up and more about what she learns to carry: things like focus, structure and a sense of direction that stays with her long after the month ends and reinforces her studies.

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Near the end of a lecture one afternoon during Ramadan, the clock is inching closer to sunset. When the time comes, Ala and her friends reach for dates and water, taking their first sip and first bite right at their desks. Then they pack up, walk out together and head towards food, towards prayer, towards the rest of the evening.

“It’s honestly so much fun,” she says. “I’m just having so much fun because I’m just going to chill with my friends.”

Most of her friends aren’t Muslim but they stay anyway—eating alongside her, waiting outside the prayer room, letting the evening unfold at its own pace. 

At the end of the day, Ala boards the GO train having done it all. Over the course of the month, Ramadan becomes something that settles into her life. And in those moments, walking out of class with her friends as the fast breaks, what remains is something more unshakeable: proof that she can hold onto her faith while still being fully present in her student life.