Religion has long had a complicated relationship with the idea of innovation. Within Islamic thought, innovation (bidʿah) is carefully scrutinised. Some scholars have recognised that not all innovation is inherently harmful, allowing space for developments that respond to changing social realities, particularly when such developments help facilitate religious practice. Today, digital platforms make the Qur’an more accessible than ever before; new technologies enable broader participation in learning and worship. For many, these innovations are welcomed as tools that supplement and enhance religious life.

Innovation, Memory and the Work of Muslim Women

At the same time, others remain deeply wary. Innovation is often framed as a threat to tradition, and it is seen as something that risks altering inherited practices or diluting their meaning. Debates over issues such as the use of modern astronomy for moon sighting reflect this tension: should contemporary methods be embraced, or should time-honoured practices remain untouched? These questions continue to animate Muslim discourse, revealing an ongoing anxiety about how to live faithfully in a changing world without losing the essence of religious tradition.

That anxiety intensifies when innovation is associated not only with method, but with who is claiming religious space—particularly when that “who” is women.

When we established Al-Mujadilah, a centre and mosque for women in Doha, Qatar, the questions came quickly: Is this the first of its kind? Does this constitute a problematic innovation within Islam? And why does a centre like this need to exist when mosques already have spaces for women? These were not simply logistical or architectural concerns. They reflected deeper uncertainties about women’s religious authority, about the role of mosques in society, and about what kinds of institutions are seen as legitimate within Islamic tradition.

There are many ways to begin unpacking these questions, but before answering them, it is important to understand where they come from. Quite plainly, they emerge from a set of misunderstandings: misunderstandings about women’s spaces in Islamic history, misunderstandings about the historical role of the mosque, and misunderstandings about what a women’s mosque is meant to do. Without addressing these underlying assumptions, whether the project is Al-Mujadilah or any other women-centred religious institution, the reaction will often be the same.

The Long Forgotten History of Muslim Women’s Contribution to Communal Spaces

To understand why a women’s mosque is so easily labelled “innovative,” we must first return to what has been forgotten.

The first misunderstanding concerns women’s spaces themselves. From the time of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ onward, Muslim societies recognised the necessity of spaces for women. While such spaces were sometimes justified through the language of modesty or gender separation, they were far more than sites of exclusion or containment.

Women’s spaces were places of relationship-building, of intellectual exchange, and of religious formation. They were environments in which women’s authority could develop, often shielded from political scrutiny, allowing women to exercise social and even political influence in meaningful ways.

If we focus specifically on women’s religious authority, one of its earliest institutional manifestations was the existence of female-only madrasas. In these spaces, women taught women; students and scholars alike participated in rigorous learning, debate, and spiritual practice. Prayer occurred naturally within these environments, not as an afterthought but as part of a holistic religious life. Crucially, these institutions were not controversial in their time. They were understood as foundational to the health of religious communities. Women’s spaces, women’s work, and women’s lives were not peripheral to Muslim societies; rather, they were integral to their development.

This historical reality becomes unmistakable when one travels through the great cities of the Muslim world and encounters the enduring marks of women’s vision. The New Mosque in Istanbul, commissioned by Safiye Sultan (d. 1619), wife of Sultan Murad III, reshaped the city’s spiritual and architectural landscape. In Mughal India, Jahanara Begum (d. 1681), daughter of Shah Jahan, not only envisioned Chandni Chowk in Delhi but also transformed it into a thriving commercial and cultural centre. Centuries earlier, Fatima al-Fihri (d. 880) founded the Qarawiyyin Mosque and University in Fez, an institution that continues to inspire scholars around the world.

These women were not exceptions operating at the margins of Muslim society. They were shaping their centres. What connects these institutions is not merely their architectural grandeur, though some encompassed entire neighbourhoods, but their intentionality. Mosques, universities, marketplaces, libraries, and bathhouses were conceived as responses to communal needs. They reflected a deep understanding of society and a commitment to serving it.

Muslim Women’s Spaces as a Means of Guarding Tradition and Knowledge

For those who insist that women’s spaces are categorically different from women’s mosques, history again complicates the picture. Beginning in the late eighteenth century in China, the Hui Muslim community came under increasing pressure to abandon its religious identity. In response, women were entrusted with preserving the faith through education and instruction. Over time, the spaces established for this purpose evolved into standalone women’s mosques, led by ahongs (a term used for imams, both male and female). These mosques became central to the religious life of the community. Beyond China, women’s religious authority has taken institutional form in various contexts; in countries such as Turkey and Morocco, female religious scholars are formally trained, recognised, and employed by the state.

If women historically patronised mosques, madrasas, libraries, and social institutions, and if women’s mosques and schools existed as recognised sites of religious formation, then the persistence of controversy demands explanation.

One reason lies in the erosion of historical memory. Because most historical records were written by men, women’s contributions were often sidelined, understated, or rendered invisible. Over time, this selective memory produced a partial understanding of Islamic history: One in which women appear absent from public religious life. When contemporary initiatives emerge that centre women’s religious authority, they are therefore assumed to be unprecedented, or worse, products of Western or secular frameworks seeking to undermine Islam. The irony, of course, is that a more complete engagement with history reveals the opposite.

Women’s religious spaces did not threaten Islamic tradition; they sustained it. What is perceived today as disruption is often simply continuity misrecognised.

Yet the controversy is not only about women. It is also about what we believe a mosque is for.

Understanding the Role of Mosques and Religious Spaces like Al-Mujadilah

Over time, the role of the mosque has narrowed dramatically. The first institution established by the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ was the mosque. And it was not established merely as a space for prayer, but as the centre of religious, social, and communal life. It was where people gathered to seek guidance, resolve disputes, learn, and care for one another. As Muslim societies grew, mosques accumulated additional functions: hospitals, soup kitchens, madrasas, libraries, and bathhouses often clustered around them.

Today, however, the mosque is frequently reduced to a space of ritual alone. While prayer remains sacred and central, the mosque no longer fulfils the expansive societal role it once did. This narrowing has consequences, particularly for women, whose engagement with religious life has often depended on broader institutional access beyond the prayer hall.

When both women’s religious spaces and the mosque’s social function are forgotten, institutions like Al-Mujadilah do not appear as continuity. They appear as a rupture.

Al-Mujadilah sits precisely at the intersection of these two neglected traditions: the tradition of women’s spaces and the tradition of the mosque as the axis of society. Both were essential to the flourishing of Muslim communities. Reviving them together is not an act of innovation for its own sake; it is an act of remembrance.

Our name reflects this inheritance. Al-Mujadilah is inspired by the fifty-eighth chapter of the Qur’an, which recounts the story of a woman who brought her grievance directly to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. God’s response affirms her voice, her agency, and her right to be heard. The chapter embodies a tradition of discourse, engagement, and action -values that animate the work of our centre.

Dominant narratives shaped by Orientalist and neoliberal frameworks have obscured this history. Orientalism casts Islam as inherently resistant to change, while neoliberal discourse often portrays Muslim women as passive subjects awaiting external “liberation.” Both erase the reality that Muslim women have always been builders, thinkers, and leaders within their societies. Why do we continue to assume that women’s contributions to religious life must always begin from scratch?

At Al-Mujadilah, our work is grounded in this historical continuity. We focus not only on the past but on the lived realities of Muslim women today, seeking to address their intellectual, spiritual, and communal needs. Through research, programming, and capacity-building initiatives, we create space for women to integrate the fullness of their lives with the expansiveness of Islam.

Al-Mujadilah is not the invention of something unprecedented. It is the revival of a long tradition of Muslim women responding to communal needs through meaningful institutions. In a world obsessed with novelty, it invites us to look backwards as much as we look forward. Innovation, after all, is not always about creating something new. Sometimes it is about rediscovering what has always been there.

We do not build because we are the first. We build because this is what Muslim women have always done—and what we will continue to do.