Islam is the fastest-growing religion in the world, yet questions like “Not even water?” during Ramadan remain far too common. With the first week of this year’s Ramadan now behind us, there is still plenty of time to reflect and learn from one another.

The experience of being told “I could never go that long without food” in a tone that suggests quiet pity is familiar to many Muslims like myself. This kind of rhetoric risks reducing Ramadan to a test of hunger or dehydration when perceived solely through an outside perspective. In Muslims’ reality, it is a monthlong recalibration of the body and soul that asks Muslims to sit with and learn from the discomfort of avoiding desire in a consumer-driven society.

Comments like these are usually well-intended, and I can sympathize with why someone encountering the practice of fasting for the first time may find it confusing, especially in American culture built around capitalism and amid rising Islamophobia. 

American culture thrives on excessive consumption, and when combined with the Western ideal of freedom pushed to great lengths, it becomes a recipe that advocates for fulfilling our desires limitlessly. 

Social media feeds are flooded with mukbangs and intense visual stimulation of fast food that not only prompts feelings of hunger but also normalizes the overindulgence of unhealthy food. In that context, it makes sense why abstaining from even water can feel extreme. 

But confusion does not exist in a vacuum. It unfolds amid rising Islamophobia, with Muslim students being bullied at twice the national average, according to the Council on American-Islamic Relations. In this climate, Muslim practices continue to be considered in Western perspectives as irrational or oppressive rather than simply stemming from different beliefs. 

When Ramadan is only framed as depriving oneself, Muslim practices start to look extreme or irrational to outsiders. This reflects a broader pattern in which Islam is reduced to being violent, restrictive and incompatible with Western modernity. In reality, Ramadan is just the opposite; it serves the main purpose of teaching patience and empathizing with the less fortunate through spiritual grounding and connection. 

So, what exactly does Ramadan mean for Muslims?

The physical act entails abstaining from food, drink, sexual relations, and other indulgent speech and behavior from dusk until dawn each day for the duration of the Islamic month of Ramadan. This is mandatory for all Muslims past the age of puberty who are physically and mentally able to do so.

Fasting starts after a pre-dawn meal called suhoor and fajr, a morning prayer. It lasts until maghrib, the evening prayer. Muslims typically break their fast with a date and water to kick off the evening meal, called iftar.

Abstaining from the necessary components of life — like food and water — may seem counterintuitive, but studies have shown that partaking in a temporary fast has significant health benefits for the body, like reduced blood pressure and cholesterol, as well as improved digestive health. 

Muslims are also expected to exercise self-restraint in thoughts and actions by striving to avoid anger, gossip and other negative emotions and behaviors that may harm their own mental health and those around them. This discipline trains the mind to remain focused on spiritual connection and mindfulness of others. 

Ramadan is not meant to be a permanent lifestyle change. The sacredness of the practice for Muslims is partly due to its temporary duration, allowing for the ability to spiritually reconnect without burnout. 

Observing Ramadan also does not mean Muslims will faint at the sight of food, so overapologizing when finding out your friend is fasting usually makes the situation awkward. Respect is best shown by asking practical questions — for example, if someone would prefer you eat separately or needs any accommodations — rather than assuming what they need.

On a campus like USC, with a vibrant Muslim community, that sense of understanding during Ramadan is vital. Fasting can affect energy and focus, and students who stay up late for night prayers or navigate long workdays that do not allow for extra rest are trying their best to keep up with coursework. 

I myself have shied away from asking for accommodations or extensions. With Ramadan being a monthlong commitment that doesn’t fit neatly within syllabi, the exhaustion is not momentary like common excuses that are granted leniency. This creates an unspoken expectation that Muslim students must just push through, leading to the feeling that asking for extra support signals weakness rather than devotion.

Recognizing these demands allows non-Muslim peers and faculty to be supportive through simple awareness and flexibility. Universities should move past generic diversity promises and adopt mindful, clear policies that actually account for distinctive, long-term religious practices like this one.

So no, not even water. But Ramadan was never just about hunger and thirst. Fasting is many things below that surface, including discipline, empathy, renewal and strengthening love for what we care about most. Understanding that difference is the first step toward fostering a more thoughtful community.