A Nation Changing — And Not for the Better

A few weeks ago, while travelling on the upper deck of a Manchester bus, I looked out at the rainy streets and noticed something unusual. One home after another displayed the English flag — bright red and white against the dull sky. In just 20 minutes, I counted about six of them.

Ordinarily, there’s nothing alarming about a national flag. But over the past year, it has taken on a darker meaning for many people of colour and Muslims. What once symbolised national pride has increasingly become associated with exclusion, nationalism, and the idea that only certain types of people truly “belong” in the UK.

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For many of us, that shift feels threatening.

The rise of far-right activism, online hate, and public demonstrations has created an environment where minority communities are more anxious than ever. The scenes from last summer — mobs attacking Muslims, migrants and people of colour under the guise of “protecting England” — remain fresh in our memory.

Far-Right Mobilisation Has Become Louder

Over the past few years, individuals and groups aligned with far-right ideologies, including activists like Tommy Robinson, have used social and political tensions to mobilise support. The result: some of the largest nationalist demonstrations in modern British history.

In September, more than 100,000 people marched in London in what organisers framed as a “freedom rally.” Yet much of the rhetoric circulating in speeches, placards and crowd chants was rooted in conspiracy theories, anti-Muslim hatred, and a vision of Britain that excludes millions of its citizens.

Islamophobia didn’t suddenly appear — it has always been present. But its emboldened expression today is leaving Muslim women feeling unsafe, hyper-visible, and unwelcome.

“I’m Constantly Reminded That the Country I Call Home Doesn’t Want Me”

I interviewed 11 Muslim women from across Britain. Their collective feeling can be summarised in three words:

Fear. Exhaustion. Uncertainty.

“I’ve never been this afraid” — Khadiga

“As a visibly Muslim Black woman living in the UK, I’ve never been as afraid for my safety as I am today,” says Khadiga*. “We are walking into a darker era where our leaders seem unwilling to challenge hate and Islamophobia.”

“We cancelled our trip because of far-right protests” — Sofia

Sofia tells me that the current climate has changed how her family moves around the country.

“With the flags going up and far-right marches happening, we cancelled a trip to central London. I’m always aware of who sits next to me on the train. I worry constantly about my 17-year-old daughter.”

Some Muslim women have even enrolled in self-defence classes — a sign of how serious the anxiety has become.

Real Stories of Abuse and Harassment

Women I spoke to shared disturbing stories — and these mirror countless accounts being whispered within Muslim communities daily:

• A hijabi woman kicked by teenage boys on the Tube.

• A mother verbally abused in the street because of her scarf.

• Women standing far behind the yellow line on platforms, terrified of being pushed.

These are not isolated events.

According to recent figures, anti-Muslim hate crimes in England and Wales rose from 2,690 to 3,199 offences in the year leading up to March 2025 — a sharp and worrying increase.

“I receive more abuse now than in my entire NHS career” — Khadiga

“As a healthcare worker, I’ve had more verbal abuse this year than in all my years in the NHS combined,” Khadiga says. “I’m scared to travel early in the morning or late at night.”

“Islamophobia Has Been Normalised”

Donya* tells me something many Muslim women feel but rarely say out loud:

“Every time I go online, I’m reminded that the country I grew up in doesn’t accept me. The political climate is worsening. We are being divided instead of brought together.”

Many women also mentioned that the global situation — especially in Palestine — is adding to the hostility they experience.

“The world seems to be becoming crueler” — Samia

“I used to call myself an optimist,” Samia says. “But lately, basic decency isn’t guaranteed. People say openly what they used to only think. The cruelty is becoming normal.”

The Weight of Stereotypes

Muslim women — especially those who wear hijab — carry additional burdens:

• assumptions of being oppressed

• being labelled “weak” or “silent”

• being reduced to media stereotypes

• being viewed with suspicion

Mai, a young Muslim woman, says:

“I’m more aware now of how the media shapes perceptions. There’s been a clear rise in negativity towards Muslims and communities like ours.”

The experience of converts

Amy, who converted to Islam later in life, explains how suddenly becoming “visible” changed the way people treat her.

“People project so much onto me — their biases, their fears. Sometimes I feel like I can’t be seen for who I am. Home feels like the only safe space.”

The Impact on Families and Children

For many mothers, the fear extends beyond their own experiences.

Leila says:
“I’m worried for my friends who wear hijab — they are more visible targets. But I also fear for my son. Muslim boys are stereotyped in ways that put them at risk.”

Parents now have to discuss racism and Islamophobia with their children more frequently — conversations that earlier generations hoped wouldn’t be necessary in modern Britain.

Britain’s Divide and the Shadow of Palestine

Zahra believes the hostility is connected to global events:
“The silence — or excuses — from political leaders on Palestine has emboldened far-right voices. It feels like Muslims aren’t seen as worthy of empathy.”

Samia adds:
“The hypocrisy in how Palestinians are treated is a reminder that life will get harder for minorities.”

Still, There Are Sparks of Hope

Despite the fear, many women pointed to reasons not to give up on Britain.

Political shifts offer some light

Several women mentioned the growing influence of the Green Party in the UK and Zohran Mamdani’s mayoral victory in New York as signs of positive political transformation.

“Mamdani’s win reminded me that one person really can spark change,” Samia says.

The younger generation gives strength

Mai says:
“Young people speaking up for equality and the environment give me hope for a kinder, fairer society.”

Donya shares this optimism:
“Today’s generation is more diverse, more global, and more open. I believe they’ll push us toward a more compassionate future.”

Conclusion: Between Fear and Hope

Life for Muslim women in the UK right now is filled with contradictions — fear in public, relief at home, anxiety about the future, but also unwavering resilience.

Many feel unwanted, misrepresented, and unsafe. But they also refuse to surrender their hope or their sense of belonging.

As Samia put it perfectly:

“The energy, courage and compassion of younger generations give me hope that a better world is still possible.”