Body positivity isn’t the goal

Modern body positivity usually swings between two extremes.

On one side, there’s self-criticism dressed up as “discipline” — fix yourself, optimise yourself, control yourself harder. On the other, there’s unconditional acceptance — love your body exactly as it is, question nothing, change nothing and never feel discomfort.

Both claim to be freeing. Neither really is. Islam offers a different lens entirely.

“Allah (swt) made you perfect” — and what that actually means

It’s often said that Allah (swt) created you perfectly. That statement is true, but it’s often misunderstood. Perfect does not mean finished. It does not mean untouched by time, illness, neglect or circumstance. And it does not mean exempt from responsibility.

It means you were created with purpose. Your body is not an accident. It is not random. It is not a mistake to be corrected or an object to be celebrated. It is an amanah.

The body as trust, not identity

An amanah is something entrusted to you, not something you own outright.

You don’t hate an amanah. You don’t ignore it. And you don’t treat it as your identity.

You look after it. You respect its limits. You act in its best interest, even when that requires control. This immediately changes the conversation. Your body is not something you need to love or loathe. It’s something you are responsible for.

Why modern body positivity still centres the self

Much of modern body positivity still revolves around the self as the final authority.

How do I feel about my body?
Do I accept it today?
Does this align with my self-image?

The problem is that feelings shift. Some days you feel confident. Some days you don’t. And when feelings are the measure, the ground is never stable. Islam removes that instability by shifting the reference point.

Not how do I feel about my body?
But how am I caring for what Allah (swt) entrusted to me?

Care without hostility, responsibility without shame

Seeing the body as an amanah allows for a balance that modern narratives struggle to hold.

You can acknowledge that your body is not where it should be without hatred. You can want change without contempt. You can practise restraint without punishment.

Neglect isn’t justified by acceptance. And care isn’t driven by self-hate. That middle ground is rare and deeply relieving.

Taking care is part of worship

Eating with restraint. Avoiding excess. Moving your body. Resting when needed.

These aren’t acts of self-improvement in Islam. They are acts of responsibility.

You are not caring for your body to meet a standard, impress others or silence insecurity. You are caring for it because you will be asked about it by Allah (swt). That knowledge doesn’t create anxiety. It creates orientation.

You don’t need to feel “positive” about your body

Islam does not require you to feel positively about your body at all times. It doesn’t demand admiration. It doesn’t demand celebration. And it doesn’t demand denial.

It asks for care, restraint and gratitude. Gratitude doesn’t mean liking everything, it means recognising value and acting accordingly.

Freedom without obsession

When the body stops being the centre of meaning, something loosens.

You stop monitoring yourself constantly. You stop tying your worth to appearance or control. You stop swinging between pride and disappointment.

The body takes its proper place — important, but not central. And that’s where real freedom sits.

Perfectly created, responsibly lived

Allah (swt) created you with intention and dignity. That dignity doesn’t disappear when your body changes. And it doesn’t excuse neglect either.

The Islamic lens doesn’t ask you to love your body unconditionally or to fight it relentlessly. It asks you to live responsibly with it. And for many people, that is the first approach that feels both truthful and humane.