Why I Now Teach Classes Where Men and Women Share the Same Space

Introduction

Some people from India, where I used to teach, have raised the following query: “What is the reason that you now hold classes where male and female students study together in the same space, without any sort of physical partition?” Because the question addresses my own practice, I am obliged to answer for myself. I will do this briefly in Section 3. First, in Sections 1 and 2, I want to state the broader principles we should keep in mind when thinking about this issue. In Section 4, I will re-summarize my main points.

General Discussion

If two or more groups of Muslims find they are doing things differently and want to resolve their differences, the Qur’an’s guidance is clear: Refer any disputes among you to God and His Messenger.[1] Likewise, only when you have accepted the judgement of God and His Messenger without inward or outward resistance have you secured your faith—and the authority that comes from such faith.[2]

The benefit of this is self-evident. By referring their disagreements to God and His Messenger, these groups acknowledge they are subject to the same guidance in pursuit of the same objective. Just as having the same qiblah strengthens unity, so does having the same overarching goal. Of course, Muslims may still differ on the specific details of how that goal should be approached in their respective local circumstances. Such differences, however, need not lead to conflict; instead, they foster better understanding and commitment to the shared objective.

Local factors—climate, cultural norms, material realities—are “accidents” that shape how the shared objective is pursued. The efforts to accommodate these circumstances are themselves rewarded, as is the respectful tolerance for how others adapt. What is not rewarded is self-righteousness—the presumption that one’s own group alone is fully correct. God’s forgiveness (maghfirah) is far-reaching, while human failings and sins are well-known to Him. It is therefore unwise to proclaim oneself as “right” while denying one’s own need for that vast divine forgiveness.[3]

On the topic of Islamic education, there is no disagreement that both men and women have the same need and right to it. Hence, there can be no dispute that the community must provide for that right and need equally.

“Islamic education” means more than just learning to read the Qur’an in Arabic script or performing obligatory acts correctly. It also involves understanding how to nourish one’s faith in God and how to maintain the breadth, flexibility, and humanity found in the Qur’an and the teachings of God’s Messenger. Of course, books can help, but genuine Islamic education requires direct interaction—teacher and student, face-to-face—over many months with patience and consistency.

Our model is God’s Messenger, salla l-lahu alayhi wa-sallam. In his lifetime, men and women prayed in his mosque, listened to his sermons, learned from his teaching, and asked him questions. These activities all took place in “the same space,” since the Prophet’s mosque had no physical barrier between men and women. Men and women also did itikaf (retreat) in the mosque at the same time.

However, women sometimes found it difficult to have their questions addressed before the men’s, and there were questions they preferred not to raise publicly. Thus, they asked the Prophet for a weekly session set aside for them alone, and he agreed. In this way, women enjoyed greater flexibility: attending along with men or in a women-exclusive session.

It is also worth noting (for those who insist that strict segregation is more authentically “Islamic”) that some believing women fought alongside men during jihad in the Prophet’s lifetime and afterward. They also shared “the same space” for normal life interactions: in markets, traveling together, visiting one another, and so forth. Furthermore, all the rites of hajj, including tawaf of the Ka`bah, still occur in “the same space”—an unchanged convention.

As recorded in Muhaddithat, numerous documents from every century of Islamic history (with only a few from the last three centuries) verify that men and women frequently attended the same classes, with male or female instructors, and that men and women often shared the same teacher for certain books of hadith. This interaction required “same space” learning. We can be confident that such interaction adhered to proper speech, dress, and courtesy, following the Messenger’s and his Companions’ example.

Despite these precedents, many Muslims—particularly those from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, or who have immigrated to Western countries—believe segregation of men and women is the ideal for Islamic settings. They see it as the arrangement that Muslims should strive for, with men and women kept as separate as possible (except for married couples or those permanently forbidden to each other).

These Muslims are aware that exceptions exist out of necessity or compelling circumstances. For instance, at the haram in Makkah, the huge crowds for tawaf inevitably mix men and women, yet no “misbehavior” is feared due to the gravity of the occasion. Some regard this as proof that the normal arrangement—segregation—remains the “ideal,” but that Makkah is a unique exception. Until recently, many mosques in South Asia (and some in the West established by South Asian migrants) had no facilities for women at all, a practice that is finally starting to change in favor of the Prophetic model.

So strong is this notion of “religious merit” in keeping men and women apart that very pious families historically refused to allow their daughters any religious education outside a women-only environment—especially at advanced ages and levels. The concern was not merely their daughters’ safety, but also the belief that segregation itself was the “Islamic” arrangement.

Over roughly the same decades that many people migrated from South Asia to places like the UK, women-only colleges in Britain disappeared. Thus, the first Muslim men and women to enter British universities did so in mixed settings. This arrangement is also the global norm for mainstream higher education, including in many Muslim-majority countries. Muslim parents largely accept this “same space” arrangement for the sake of beneficial worldly education, though they might denounce it for “Islamic education,” labeling it “Westernised” or a betrayal of “Islamic values.”

My Experience and Practice

When I arrived at Oxford, I had only a research fellowship and no formal teaching responsibilities. However, I strongly believe in the value of teaching—for teacher and students alike. In Islamic education specifically, classes provide opportunities to learn and see how norms and rulings are adapted in daily life. It is through such practical adaptations that Qur’anic and Prophetic values are preserved and passed on, binding people to the religion more deeply.

Shortly thereafter, I began to teach, both formally (classes, seminars) and informally. The university’s Muslim students had an Islamic Society, and I was often invited to speak. Soon I was invited by other Islamic societies around the UK. Initially, I spoke in a provided space. Students—male and female—who had spent the day in shared classes, meals, and libraries, would enter as small mixed groups but, upon reaching the room, self-segregated with men on one side and women on the other. They plainly believed this was correct Islamic behavior.

Some later confided that they felt awkward or artificial putting on this display of separation just for an “Islamic education” gathering.

I was impressed by these students’ eagerness for serious study of Qur’an and hadith, including classical scholarly interpretations. Observing this, I noted the need for more in-depth, formal training in Arabic and the foundational “Islamic sciences.” Some of my students established Al-Salam Institute in Oxford/London and others the Cambridge Islamic College, both of which offered `Alimiyyah courses for men and women, with me as a lecturer and teacher.

Given student expectations, we initially used a curtain to separate men’s and women’s seating. Later, we removed the curtain but maintained men on one side and women on the other, separated by an aisle. We did not enforce this arrangement strictly—families who came together often sat together. We imposed no dress code, but nearly all the women wore jilbab and headscarf; a small minority wore no head covering, and a smaller group wore niqab.

My aim in teaching is to deepen students’ awareness—God willing—of the religion’s core principles and values, how we derive these from the core texts, and how to embody them daily. It is heartening that many students report a strengthened faith and more thorough religious understanding. A few said they repented from apostasy or other sins; many overcame their doubts and discovered the intellectual and spiritual richness of our classical heritage. Every year, a significant number of men and women complete an `Alimiyyah certificate. As the alumni network increases, so does their shared knowledge of Islam.

To me, by God’s mercy, this effort is valuable and quietly productive. Personally, I do not mind whether students want segregated or mixed gatherings. However, at least in the UK and at university level globally, “same space” teaching is more consistent with how students actually live, and thus more likely to influence their attitudes and conduct outside class.

I am fully aware that many `ulama in India—where I studied—disapprove of “same space” classes for men and women. Yet this disapproval leads to two outcomes. First, a number of students, particularly women, will opt out because they simply do not believe in segregation or do not find it practical. Second, whenever educational resources are segregated, the share allocated to women is almost inevitably smaller than the men’s. In religious learning, such an inequality violates the principle that men and women share the same obligation to fulfill these religious requirements.

Summary

First: The segregation of men and women is not, in itself, an Islamic ideal—even though many assert it is. They may claim Muslims would naturally segregate if not forced otherwise by “modernity,” “feminism,” or “the West.”

Second: The Islamic ideal for male-female relations is “lowering the gaze,” or religious self-restraint, not physical separation. This self-control comes from genuine reverence for God’s commands—different in quality from the self-discipline of purely academic or professional contexts. “Islamic education” aims precisely to build this virtue of self-restraint.

Men “lower their gaze” by controlling their facial and verbal expressions, avoiding suggestive friendliness. Women do likewise but also observe hijab. Hijab is not a “solution” for men’s weakness. Rather, it helps the woman manage her need for attention, also a natural drive. Familiar is the hadith about two women who thought a blind man’s inability to see them meant they did not need hijab, and they were corrected.

Third: If “lowering the gaze” and hijab are practised, my judgment is that it is more practical, fair, and aligned with ordinary life to provide Islamic education in a “same space.” Indeed, it offers a setting to cultivate “lowering the gaze” in practice.

That said, I would never reject a men-only or women-only class, or one where men and women occupy separate spaces. In some parts of the Muslim world, the belief that post-pubescent segregation prevents sinful relations is deeply rooted. Such a custom, not founded directly in the Sunnah, may bring about disadvantages, especially for women’s freedoms. Nevertheless, ensuring men and women alike receive proper religious education is paramount—even if offered through segregated programs, it is better than leaving them without education at all.

Footnotes:

[1] (Q an-Nisa, 4:59) “O believers […] If you are disputing about something, refer it to God and the Messenger, if you believe in God and the Last Day. That is better and more beneficial in the long run.”
[2] (Q an-Nisa, 4:65) “No! By your Lord, they will not believe until they make you judge in what they disagree about among themselves, then find no resistance within themselves for what you decide, and accept it fully.”
[3] (Q an-Najm, 53:32) “Truly your Lord is vast in forgiveness; He knows you well from when He produced you from the earth and when you were hidden in the wombs of your mothers. So do not ascribe purity to yourselves; He knows best who is truly wary [of sin].”