Reconciling Islam and Queer Identity

I see the link between spirituality and sexuality all the time. I’ve written a little about it in this blog (here and here) but plan to do even more learning and studying in 2025.

In Hijab Butch Blues: A Memoir, Lamya H. offers a powerful and deeply personal narrative that weaves together themes of identity, sexuality, faith, and resilience. As a sex therapist, I found this memoir both inspiring and challenging, as it provides an intimate look into the complexities of navigating intersecting identities in a world that often seeks to compartmentalize them. The book is a courageous exploration of what it means to live authentically at the intersection of queerness and faith, and it challenges readers to broaden their understanding of both.

The memoir chronicles the author’s journey as a queer, Muslim individual grappling with societal expectations, family dynamics, and internalized conflicts. For many clients I work with, themes of self-acceptance and the tension between personal desires and cultural or religious expectations are recurring struggles. The author’s narrative is an unflinching testament to the courage it takes to carve out a space where all aspects of identity can coexist.

One of the book’s most compelling aspects is its nuanced exploration of shame and belonging—two themes that are central to much of the work in sex therapy. The author delves into the ways shame is weaponized to enforce conformity and how the fear of ostracization can lead to profound inner conflict. Yet, the memoir is equally a story of finding belonging in unexpected places, whether through chosen family, community, or a reimagined relationship with faith.

The writing is vivid and lyrical, drawing the reader into the author’s world with empathy and clarity. The memoir does not seek to provide easy answers or resolutions, which I found refreshing as a clinician. The complexity of the author’s experiences mirrors the realities faced by many individuals who must navigate overlapping and often conflicting identities. For therapists, this book serves as a reminder to approach each client’s story with humility and an openness to their unique perspective.

While the memoir is undeniably moving, there are moments where the narrative could benefit from more depth or context, particularly for readers less familiar with Islamic or queer frameworks. As a sex therapist, I would have obviously appreciated a more explicit exploration of how the author reconciled their sexual identity with their spiritual practices, but mostly I want to have a session (or two) to get to know Lamya.

Hijab Butch Blues is a valuable resource for therapists seeking to deepen their understanding of intersectionality in their practice. It underscores the importance of creating a safe, nonjudgmental space where clients can explore the multifaceted aspects of their identities. The book also highlights the need for cultural humility and the importance of integrating clients’ faith and cultural backgrounds into therapy in a way that honors their experiences and values.

Hijab Butch Blues is a brave, thought-provoking memoir that invites readers to examine the intersections of faith, sexuality, and identity with greater empathy and curiosity. For sex therapists, it offers a lens into the lived experiences of queer individuals navigating cultural and religious expectations, reminding us of the importance of holding space for complexity and nuance in our work.