Reading Ramadan’s (2022) study on Muslim women academics in Western higher education was a moment of deep reflection for me. I was struck by how powerfully Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality plays out in these women’s lives — not just in terms of gender and race, but in how their faith identity is experienced and contested within academic institutions. These women aren’t navigating just one axis of marginalisation; they are often managing a complex, relational web of exclusions, especially when their Islamic identity is visibly expressed. Intersectionality here isn’t about adding up disadvantages — it’s about understanding how systems like racism, Islamophobia, and sexism interlock and reinforce each other.
As someone who works primarily on climate justice and design curriculum, I often focus on how race, class, and disability shape people’s vulnerability to climate crises. I have to admit, I hadn’t previously considered how financial exclusion based on religious beliefs might create barriers to something as fundamental as accessing higher education. Learning about the lack of a Sharia-compliant student finance system in the UK — and the proposed (but still unimplemented) Takaful model — exposed a blind spot in my thinking.
Because Islam prohibits interest-based loans (riba), many Muslim students are faced with impossible choices: take on debt that violates their ethics, forgo higher education, or seek alternative funding without institutional support. This isn’t just a financial issue — it’s a justice issue.
This learning made me pause. While student admissions and finance policy fall outside the scope of my direct role, this insight challenged me to think more broadly. If we are educating for justice, we must remain attuned to the wider institutional structures that shape access. Who gets to be in the room when we talk about justice? Who is silently excluded because of assumptions we’ve never thought to question?
Reading Ramadan’s paper reminded me that a commitment to justice isn’t only about what we teach — it’s about being open to what we’ve overlooked. This issue had escaped my attention precisely because I don’t live at that intersection. I’m not Muslim, and my own access to education was never shaped by the need to navigate financial systems that conflicted with my religious or ethical beliefs. That’s a privilege I hold.
This realisation made me reflect more deeply on how my own positionality shapes what I notice, what I prioritise, and even what I consider to be a “justice issue.” Because I didn’t have to ask difficult questions about how to fund my education in a way that aligned with my beliefs, I hadn’t considered how others might be structurally excluded for doing just that. It’s a reminder that the limits of our lived experience can easily become the limits of our understanding — unless we actively choose to listen, learn, and interrogate the assumptions we carry from positions of comfort.
References
Ramadan, A., 2022. Faith and the Academy: Navigating the Intersections of Gender, Race, and Islam in UK Higher Education. [online] Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/13603116.2022 [Accessed 30 May 2025].
Crenshaw, K., 1989. Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics. University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), pp.139–167.
UK Government, 2014. Equality Analysis: Sharia-compliant Student Finance. [online] GOV.UK. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/sharia-compliant-student-finance [Accessed 30 May 2025].
2 replies on “A Reflection on Faith, Finance, and Inclusion_Blog post #2”
Hi Monika – below are my thoughts:
It was super interesting that you picked up on the point about financial exclusion based on religious beliefs. This sparked my own reflection to. I’ve helped students with applying for funds, but it never occurred to me that this might have intersected with their faith nor the ethical considerations they might have been making. Thanks for emphasising this point to me: I might’ve missed it otherwise. It made me think twice about times student’s might have been discussing money in class and I’ve naively said “you could apply for the UAL fund” or similar.
I wonder if there are small ways we can help with finances whilst being mindful of other students ethics. I’ve (admitedly, reluctanly) started to structure my lectures so that the core content starts at 11:00, whilst the session starts at 9:30. Similar to a flipped classroom, but the first hour and a half gives time to do the homework aspect of the flipped classroom. This is so that students can buy off-peak train tickets. Could this, or something similar, help in your teaching context?
All the best,
Corey
Hi Monika,
I was really surprised and honestly a bit shocked to learn that Islam prohibits interest-based loans, and that the UK hasn’t yet fully implemented a Sharia-compliant student finance model. I had no idea this was a barrier, and it made me realise how much structural exclusion can remain invisible if it doesn’t affect us personally.
I don’t recall ever seeing this even mentioned on university application material either, which is even more concerning when you think about how many prospective students might silently drop out of the process. if you can’t ethically take a loan, and the system doesn’t offer any alternative… then the higher education ever truly an option for them. It’s painful to realise that this kind of structural exclusion exists, and yet it’s so invisible.
Your reflection is such an important reminder that inclusion isn’t only about support once students arrive, it also has to be about questioning the barriers to entry that many of us never had to face.
Thank you again for helping me see this through a different lens. I’ll definitely be more mindful about how financial accessibility shaped by belief as well as income which can shape a student’s entire journey.