Why Ramadan Feels Like Starting Your Relationship Afresh Every Year

Ramadan is here, and the usual chaos of memes, entertainment, and petty online drama gives way to a sudden wave of "spirituality". 

Everyone suddenly becomes a paragon of virtue, posting pre-dawn prayer snaps, iftar spreads, and Qur’an verses. It raises a question that’s been brewing in my mind for years: where's the place of faith as far as optics is concerned?

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The line between genuine spirituality and performative religiosity can be blurry, especially because we know our friends. Sometimes, there’s something inherently performative about announcing that you’ve “fasted for the third day straight” or wearing a dull, sullen face around to show that you’re indeed fasting.

I saw this reel with a caption that says, “muslim men are low-key cooking up breakup arguments because Ramadan is around the corner.”

Every Ramadan, an invisible switch gets flipped in the minds of Muslim faithful.

Men who have been "generous" with themselves all year suddenly discover restraint. Women who haven’t touched a hijab since last Eid begin rummaging through wardrobes. 

Unmarried couples start drafting the “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup texts and having difficult conversations about a break up or taking a break so they can pray and these prayers can reach heaven without romantic interference. 

Under the video above, you’d find comments suggesting that manufacturing breakup tactics is an arduous and unnecessary task when you can easily ghost them. 

For more context, I asked two Muslim men how they navigate Ramadan with their non-Muslim partners, and the responses I received pointed to the complicated push-and-pull of love, faith, compromise, and unspoken expectations that define many two-religion households.

One, let’s call him Kunle, said, “She already knows how it is." He continued, “This is our second Ramadan together. I must confess that I didn’t act the first time maturely. I basically pushed her aside without any explanation, and I felt bad afterwards, so I had to explain to her how it is. Since then, we’ve both come to an understanding of how it should be during Ramadan. She knows to give me my space while also ensuring that I break my fast timely and with good food.” 

The second man, however, who finds himself with a different partner every 6 months, couldn’t care less about anyone’s emotions. “A simple WhatsApp message is enough for everyone to understand.” He said.  

As an observer, you are plagued with so many questions.

If the Qur’an says God knows what is hidden in the hearts, who are we doing all this for during Ramadan?

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Now, before you accuse me of policing devotion or appointing myself a judge, take a deep breath. I’m not mocking faith, but the performance of it.

Your timelines get flooded with reminders about modesty, often from people whose DMs would tell a very different story. You will find some insisting or expecting the entire world to adjust their content, dressing and language so that they don’t get tested and, by virtue, ‘spoil their fast'. 

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I once heard someone say she prefers to patronise Muslim vendors during Ramadan because “you’re less likely to be cheated and have your measure reduced.” Less likely to be overcharged. Less likely to go home and realise the rice was lighter than it looked.

Because according to the Qur'an, honesty in trade is not a seasonal virtue. In Surah Al-Mutaffifin (83:1–3), there is a sharp warning: woe to those who give less in measure and weight. Not in February. Not outside Ramadan.

So if buyers feel safer in the market during Ramadan, what exactly is happening?

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Ramadan heightens taqwa: the consciousness that God sees, records, and judges. The fast is not just about a hunger strike; it is about restraint. And there is a Prophetic teaching that says if a person does not abandon false speech and dishonest action, God does not need their fasting. In other words, you cannot starve all day and still cheat at sunset.

When I asked my friend, a muslim faithful, why his brothers and sisters in Islam suddenly turn brand new during Ramadan, he said, 

He went ahead to mention that lately, he found himself unconsciously lowering his gaze and that he hasn't listened to secular music in a while. He termed it ‘Cleansing of the heart', and stated that it is the essence of Ramadan. 

Since I wasn’t having it, he sent a video to prove his point further, using a video that explains the reason muslims fast for 30 days. According to the speaker, scientifically, it takes 30 days to break free from old and unhealthy habits, further cementing the reasoning that Ramadan is a period of transformation.

But what then is the point of it all if everyone reverts to their old ways after Ramadan? He responded, saying, “We are sinners. So every act of worship is an attempt at purification, and this coming month is a month dedicated to forgiveness and answered prayers.”

And here comes the harder question:

If you can measure correctly or stop fornicating during Ramadan because God is watching, what changes about God’s vision after Ramadan?

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When devotion becomes seasonal branding, we must ask: who are we trying to convince?

God? Or each other?

Yes, the act inspires others to reconnect with their faith; that’s a positive. But I’ve come to realise that religion in Nigeria is often communal theatre. We do not just practise faith; we display it and make it about self-aggrandisement.