Ep 6. The puzzle piece that didn't fit! Finding belonging when you feel like you don’t fit anywhere...

Finding Belonging as an Aussie/Māori, Revert Muslim Woman

Have you ever walked into a room and immediately felt like you were the only one who didn’t quite belong?

Not because anyone made you feel unwelcome.

Not because someone said you shouldn’t be there.

But because of the quiet story you had already started telling yourself before you even walked through the door.

For many women especially those on a Muslim revert journey or those who have grown up feeling disconnected from their culture this feeling is all too familiar.

It whispers things like:

“Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing.”

“I don’t know enough.”

“Maybe this space isn’t really for me.”

I know that feeling because I’ve lived it for years.

Living Between Different Worlds

My identity has never fit neatly into one box.

I’m Australian-born

I’m Māori by background.

I was born into a Christian family.

I reverted to Islam in my early twenties.

I’m married to a Lebanese man.

I’m raising Lebanese children.

I’ve spent years travelling to Lebanon, where every visit feels strangely familiar as though my heart has recognised a place long before my passport ever did.

Yet despite all of that, there were times I questioned whether I truly belonged anywhere.

When I looked towards my Māori heritage, I felt disconnected because I hadn’t grown up immersed in the culture. Family circumstances meant that connection wasn’t something I naturally inherited, and as I became older, I realised how deeply I wanted to understand where I came from.

Then there was Lebanon.

Although it feels like home every time I visit, I don’t speak Arabic fluently. I understand conversations far more than I speak them, but there’s always been a part of me that felt hesitant to join in.

And then there was Islam.

Becoming a Muslim was one of the greatest blessings of my life, but becoming a revert to Islam also came with moments of loneliness. I entered the religion without generations of Muslim family before me. I learnt through books, lectures, mistakes, and years of personal study.

While so many sisters welcomed me with kindness, there were still moments where I wondered whether I truly fitted into the wider Muslim community.

Looking back now, I realise something important.

The feeling wasn’t always coming from the people around me.

Much of it was coming from me.

The Story We Tell Ourselves

Our minds are incredibly powerful.

When we believe we don’t belong, we begin searching for evidence to prove ourselves right.

You notice every moment you don’t know a word in Arabic.

Every cultural reference you don’t understand.

Every tradition you’ve never experienced.

Every conversation where you feel slightly behind.

Without even realising it, you become your own biggest critic.

I spent years believing I was the puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit.

The more I tried to fit perfectly into every environment, the more frustrated I became.

It wasn’t until a conversation with my therapist that my entire perspective shifted.

Instead of agreeing that I didn’t belong anywhere, she gently challenged the belief itself.

“What if you’re looking at this from the wrong angle?”

That one question stayed with me.

What if I wasn’t a puzzle piece that didn’t fit?

What if I was simply a piece that connected more than one part of the picture?

Belonging Doesn’t Mean Becoming Someone Else

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt is that belonging doesn’t require you to become someone you’re not.

Sometimes we confuse belonging with blending in.

We think we have to sound the same.

Look the same.

Know the same things.

Share the same upbringing.

But real belonging isn’t built on sameness.

It’s built on acceptance.

Allah never asked me to become Lebanese.

He never asked me to abandon my Māori heritage.

He never asked me to erase where I came from.

He simply asked me to worship Him.

Faith isn’t measured by your culture.

It isn’t measured by the language you speak.

It isn’t measured by how many generations of Muslims came before you.

It’s measured by sincerity, intention, and the continual effort to grow closer to Allah.

That realisation changed everything.

I Still Want to Learn

Accepting that I belong doesn’t mean I’ve stopped growing.

In fact, it has given me the confidence to keep learning.

One of my greatest hopes is to travel through New Zealand and immerse myself in the Māori culture that my father came from.

I want to understand the traditions.

The history.

The stories.

Not because I need permission to call myself Māori but because I am Māori, and I want to honour that part of my identity.

I also dream of performing Umrah with a guide who I feel deeply connected to.

Someone who can help me strengthen my understanding of Islam while allowing me to grow spiritually in a way that feels meaningful and personal.

I continue learning Arabic, not because I feel pressured to, but because I want to connect more deeply with my husband’s family and with a language that carries so much beauty within our religion.

The difference now is my motivation.

Years ago, I thought learning would finally make me belong.

Today, I learn because I already know I belong.

Learning has become an act of love rather than an attempt to earn my place.

The Legacy We Leave Our Children

Perhaps the greatest reason I continue this journey is my children.

I don’t want them to inherit disconnection.

I want them to know where they come from.

I want them to understand their Māori heritage.

I want them to embrace their Lebanese roots.

Most importantly, I want them to grow up with a strong connection to Islam.

Identity isn’t about choosing one part of yourself and pretending the others don’t exist.

It’s about embracing every chapter that Allah has written into your story.

When our children see us valuing our faith, our culture, our family history, and our willingness to keep learning, they receive permission to do the same.

Maybe You Were Never the Puzzle Piece That Didn’t Fit

If you’ve ever questioned where you belong, I want to leave you with this thought.

Perhaps you’ve been asking the wrong question.

Instead of asking,

“Where do I fit?”

Maybe ask,

“How has Allah uniquely created me to connect with others?”

Your life experiences may not look like anyone else’s.

Your upbringing may be different.

Your story may not fit neatly into one category.

But that doesn’t make your story incomplete.

It makes it unique.

Some women are called to walk one path.

Others are called to bridge many.

There is beauty in both.

So whether you’re a Muslim revert, someone rediscovering your cultural identity, or simply a woman trying to find her place in the world, remember this:

You don’t need permission to belong.

You don’t need to earn your place through perfect knowledge or flawless confidence.

You belong exactly where Allah has placed you.

Keep learning.

Keep growing.

Keep honouring every part of your story.

Because perhaps you were never the puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

Perhaps you were always the piece that helped connect the whole picture.

If this blog resonated with you, I’d love for you to listen to Episode 6 of The Audacious Noor Podcast, where I share this journey in a deeply personal conversation. And if you know another sister who has ever felt caught between cultures, communities, or identities, share this with her. She may need the reminder that she belongs exactly where Allah has placed her.