Where Muslims meet

Inspired by a TikTok from @habibtiplease8 that got us thinking – we took her list and ran with it.Every few months a mahr video goes viral and the comments turn into a frenzy. Someone says they’re good with a few verses of the Quran, some say a cat is fine then someone else says a house in Dubai. The comment section misses the point. Mahr isn’t a price tag on a woman and it isn’t a receipt for the wedding. It’s hers – legally, permanently, no strings. Which means the interesting question isn’t how much, it’s what would actually support the woman financially to own?So we did that….creatively.A depreciating SUV or a cat is a strange answer to that question. Here are better ones.

Quick refresher: what mahr actually is

Mahr is the obligatory gift the groom gives the bride as part of the marriage contract. It’s mentioned directly in the Qur’an, and the key detail people forget is that it belongs to the wife alone. Two things worth knowing before you get creative:

Prompt vs. deferred. Mahr can be paid up front (mu’ajjal) or owed later (mu’akhkhar) – at an agreed date, or in the event of divorce or death. Most of the ideas below work beautifully as deferred or installment-based mahr. The Prophet ﷺ praised the easy one. There’s a well-known hadith that the best mahr is the one that’s least burdensome. Creative doesn’t have to mean expensive. Some of the most meaningful options on this list cost very little. The below list is definitely not a fatwa of whether the idea actually constitutes as a qualified mahr. This is just a way to get your mind to think creatively if you don’t just want “money” – so dawah bros please stay away. Sadaqah jariyah mahr: the kind that keeps paying you

This category is the reason the original TikTok hit (see here: https://www.tiktok.com/@habibtiplease8/video/7675090616912547085). You’re not just receiving something – you’re building an account that keeps depositing after you’re gone.

A well built in your name, every five years. One well, then another, then another. By your 25th anniversary that’s five villages with clean water attached to your name. A fixed percentage of his annual income given in sadaqah on your behalf — 2%, 5%, whatever’s agreed — for the life of the marriage. An orphan sponsored in your name annually. Same child, followed year over year, so you watch someone grow up on your account. A hafiz’s education funded start to finish. Someone memorizes the entire Qur’an, and your name is on it. A masjid element endowed in your name — a wudu area, a library, a classroom wing, a scholarship for one student per year in perpetuity. A waqf. The most old-school option on this list and the most underrated: an income-generating endowment where the returns permanently fund a cause you pick. Wealth mahr: things that compound A maxed-out Roth IRA every year of the marriage, in her name. Do the math on that over 30 years and it’ll make the G-Wagon look like a joke. A brokerage account opened at the nikah with a fixed monthly contribution, invested on her behalf. Gold to wear and gold to hold. Two separate allocations — the jewelry you actually put on, and bullion that never leaves the safe. Denominate the second one by weight, not by dollar amount, so inflation can’t touch it. Land, here and back home. One plot where you live now and one where your family is from. Land doesn’t depreciate and it can’t be repossessed by a bad quarter. A down payment, with her name on the deed. Not the house — the equity stake. A cash-flowing asset: a rental unit, a share in a family business, a stake in his company with real paperwork behind it. Her student loans paid off. Unglamorous. Life-changing. A fully funded emergency fund — six months of her expenses, liquid, untouchable, hers. Her degree, certification, or license paid for. Tuition for the master’s, the bar prep, the CPA, the coding bootcamp, the flight hours. Seed capital for her business, with an agreement that says it’s equity-free and no-strings. Olive trees, date palms, or farmland back home. Income, inheritance, and a reason to visit. Sentimental mahr: the ones that make people cry A book about you, written over 20 years, handed to you on your 20th anniversary. He writes as the marriage happens, you read it all at once at the end. Nobody has ever regretted this one. A dissertation-style paper on why you’re the love of his life — properly argued, properly cited, properly defended. Funny until you read it. Then not funny at all. A commissioned mushaf or calligraphy piece made by hand with your names in it. A letter a year, sealed, all opened together at a milestone anniversary. A documented annual trip — one place a year, photographed and written up, compiled into a book at 10 or 25 years. Family heirloom gold, remade. His grandmother’s set melted and redesigned into something that’s yours. Knowledge mahr: the sunnah option nobody talks about Surahs, taught by him, to you. He commits to teaching you specific surahs, or a language, or a skill. (Note: schools of thought differ on whether a service can count as mahr on its own — more on that below.) Hajj, paid in full — and a second seat for your mother. Some people put this at the top of the list, and honestly, fair. Before you write any of this into a contract

I repeat – The below list is definitely not a fatwa of whether the idea actually constitutes as a qualified mahr. This is just a way to get your mind to think creatively if you don’t just want “money” – so dawah bros please stay away.The madhahib disagree on the details, so ask yours. Minimum amounts, whether services count, how deferred mahr is enforced – these genuinely differ. Ask the person officiating your nikah before you commit to anything clever.And lastly, don’t turn it into a competition. The couples we hear from who are happiest with their mahr aren’t the ones who negotiated hardest. They’re the ones who picked something that said I understand what matters to you – and then actually delivered it.If you read through this and didn’t have anyone to give a mahr – start with Muzz and find a serious muslim to marry. We appreciate the preparation by reading this though.

For two years I was convinced Toronto had run out of single Muslims. Not “dating pool feels small” convinced — actually convinced, like the city had quietly relocated all of them somewhere I wasn’t invited. I’d sit on my bed at 11pm doing the kind of spiral math you do when you’re lonely and bored: how many Muslims even live here, how many of them are my age, how many of those are single, how many of those would I actually get along with. The number always ended up depressingly close to zero.It wasn’t zero. It was never zero. I was just looking for one person in a city, when I should’ve been looking for one person in a system.

The Part Where I Was Wrong About the Numbers

Here’s the thing nobody tells you: there are north of 400,000 Muslims in the Greater Toronto Area. That’s not a rounding error, that’s close to 10% of the entire metro population, and Ontario has the highest share of Muslims of any province in the country. In Mississauga—Erin Mills, more than a quarter of the neighbourhood is Muslim. Same story in Milton. Same story in pockets of Don Valley you’d never guess unless you actually lived there.So no, the pool was never the problem. I was standing in Thorncliffe Park thinking about someone who, statistically, was probably in Milton. Toronto Muslims aren’t one neighbourhood — we’re Thorncliffe Park and Flemingdon Park, we’re Etobicoke where Jami Mosque has stood since 1968 with the oldest Ottoman-style minaret in Ontario, we’re Scarborough, North York, Mississauga, Milton. That spread means the community is genuinely massive. It also means the single Muslim two postal codes over might as well not exist to you, because you’re never going to bump into them at the grocery store. Your five closest friends already know everyone in their own five-friend radius. That’s the actual bottleneck. Not scarcity. Geography, and a social circle too small to cover a city this size.

Where I Actually Looked (And Why Most of It Didn’t Work — Not Because It Was Wrong, Just Incomplete)

I did the things you’re supposed to do. I showed up to Jummah more consistently than my iman alone would’ve gotten me there, not gonna lie. I went to iftars. When the Islamic Society of Toronto opened that huge new masjid in Thorncliffe Park, I was there the first week, half for the du’a and half hoping to casually make eye contact with my future spouse across the prayer hall like this was a movie. It wasn’t a movie. Nobody’s at Jummah trying to get set up, and honestly, that’s not what a mosque is for — but being in those rooms regularly still matters. A lot of people’s friend group, and eventually their spouse’s friend group, traces back to showing up somewhere on purpose.I went to MuslimFest at Mississauga Celebration Square — genuinely one of the best weekends of my year, food and comedy and thousands of people, zero dating pressure, which also means zero dating results unless you’re bold enough to just talk to a stranger between the samosa line and the mainstage. I did Halal Bites Festival. I did the auntie thing — my mom’s friend set me up with four different guys over two years, each one a perfectly nice person who was in absolutely no way compatible with me, because one auntie’s network tops out at a few dozen people and I needed a pool of hundreds of thousands.And I did the talking stage thing, more than once. Matched with someone through a mutual friend, talked for eight months, said things like “let’s see where it goes,” and it went nowhere, because neither of us had actually said out loud what we wanted. Inshallah is not a strategy. I learned that one the hard way, twice.

Tie Your Camel First

There’s a hadith I heard a hundred times growing up and only actually understood at maybe year one and a half of being single in this city: a man asked the Prophet ﷺ whether he should tie his camel and trust in Allah, or just trust in Allah and leave it untied. The answer was — tie your camel, then trust in Allah.

I had the trust part down. I prayed about it, I made du’a, I told myself inshallah it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. What I wasn’t doing was tying the camel. I was waiting for the right person to wander into my five-friend radius instead of actually widening the radius. Showing up to Jummah is good. Going to MuslimFest is good. But if that’s the whole plan, you’re leaving the camel untied and calling it faith.

Tying the camel, for me, ended up meaning something pretty unglamorous: I went to one of the in-person Muslim singles events Muzz runs in Toronto — a few hundred people, no pressure, everyone already opted in — and I put myself properly on the app in between. Not as a backup plan. As the actual plan. Because an app doesn’t care whether you’re in Thorncliffe Park or Erin Mills or Milton — it puts the whole GTA in front of you at once, filtered by the stuff that actually matters, instead of by who happens to live near you or who your auntie already knows.

And Then, Annoyingly, It Just Happened

I’d love to tell you there was a lightning-bolt moment. There wasn’t. I matched with someone on Muzz who’d also been to that same singles event and somehow we’d missed each other in the room. We talked for three weeks, not eight months, because we’d both gotten tired enough of the talking stage to just say what we actually wanted early. First date was at a halal spot neither of us had heard of, which is its own kind of Toronto Muslim rite of passage.I’m not saying an app is romantic. It isn’t. Neither is a spreadsheet, and dating in a city this size is basically a spreadsheet problem wearing a trench coat. What I’m saying is: the community is here, all 400,000-plus of us, spread across a metro area too big for any one auntie or any one Jummah to cover on its own. Go to MuslimFest. Show up to Jummah. Let your auntie try, honestly, she means well. But also tie the camel — put yourself somewhere that actually reaches the whole city, not just your corner of it.You’re not the only one still looking. You were just looking in a five-friend radius, in a city built for hundreds of thousands.

Before getting married, Muslim couples should agree on six things: children and parenting, money and provision, family and in-laws, roles at home, how they handle conflict, and where they see the next five to ten years.

You’ve discussed the wedding colours. You’ve discussed whether his cousin can be trusted with the guest list. You have not discussed how you’re raising your children.This is normal. It’s also how people end up three years in, mid-argument about whose mother is visiting for how long, realising this was always going to happen.

Children: do you want them, and how are you raising them?

Easy part first – do you both want kids, roughly how many.Harder part: how. Because whatever your parents did is what you’ll default to at 2am when the baby won’t sleep and nobody has the energy to be intentional. If one of you grew up with the slipper flying across the room when you misbehave and the other grew up with a family meeting, that’s going to come up.And deen isn’t automatic. Nobody absorbs it through the walls. Islam is taught, on purpose, by two people who agreed on how – or it’s taught inconsistently by two people who didn’t.You can both want three kids and still want completely different childhoods for them.

Worth asking Kids – yes/no, how many, when? How were each of us disciplined? Are we repeating it or actively not? Islamic school, public school, weekend madrasah, some combination? What does tarbiyah actually look like on a normal day? What if we can’t have children? Money: who provides, and what happens to the rest?

This is the one everyone skips because it feels haram to bring up before the nikah. It’s also the one the research is most brutal about.A study of 4,574 couples using data from the National Survey of Families and Households found financial disagreements were the strongest disagreement type predicting divorce. Sonya Britt, the Kansas State researcher who led it, didn’t hedge: money beats children, intimacy and in-laws as a predictor. For husbands and for wives.Here’s the part that should genuinely alarm you. They controlled for income, debt and net worth. Made no difference. You cannot out-earn this problem. Couples arguing about money early were at higher risk whether they had a lot of it or none.Newer data agrees. A 2021 study found finances were the biggest source of conflict in 40% of disagreements among people in long-term relationships. Fidelity’s 2024 Couples & Money study found a quarter of couples named money as their single biggest relationship challenge, and nearly half argue about it at least sometimes.Megan McCoy, a financial therapist and professor at Kansas State, explains why money fights hit differently: they run longer, resolve less, and leak into everything else. The actual issue is usually that two people have inherited opposite beliefs about what money is for. One of you grew up watching money mean safety. The other watched it mean generosity, or status, or freedom. Nobody told you this about yourselves. You just have it.Which is exactly why it’s a pre-nikah conversation.

Worth asking Who provides, and what does that mean in practice? Savers or spenders? What did money look like in each of our houses? Joint account, separate, both? How are we handling zakat and sadaqah? Is there debt the other person doesn’t know about? (Ask. Now.) What are we saving for – house, Hajj, business, school? Family and in-laws: where are you living, and what are the boundaries?

In our communities this question quietly decides how your first two years go.Where are you living – your own place, his family’s house, ten minutes from hers? Who’s expected at which gathering, and how often is “expected” actually “mandatory”? What happens when someone’s parents need care?Boundaries aren’t disrespectful. They’re the thing that lets you stay married and stay close to your families. The couples who struggle usually don’t have villains for in-laws. They just never agreed what the arrangement was, so every single occasion becomes a negotiation neither of them prepared for.Loving each other shouldn’t cost you your family. It also shouldn’t be the thing you give up to keep the peace.

Worth asking Where are we living year one? Does that change? How much time with each side, and who decides that? What if a parent needs to move in? What stays between us and doesn’t get relayed to family? If a parent objects to something we decided together — then what? Roles at home: who’s actually doing what?

Cooking, cleaning, bills, school runs, and the invisible job of being the person who remembers any of it needs doing.Most couples never have this conversation. They assume. Then the assumptions don’t match, and by the time anyone says anything out loud it’s not a conversation any more — it’s a list someone’s been keeping.Be specific. “We’ll share things fairly” is not a plan, it’s a vibe. Who’s cooking on a Wednesday when you both got in at seven? Who does the admin — the appointments, the forms, the calls nobody wants to make? What happens in a week when one of you is travelling or sick or drowning at work?Sort it now, before resentment sorts it for you.

Worth asking What did the split look like in each of our houses growing up? Are we both working? Does that change after kids? Who’s handling bills, admin, appointments? What does a regular weekday evening look like? What are we each quietly expecting that we haven’t said? Conflict: how do you argue, and how do you come back?

You’re going to argue. The question is what happens after.Some people need space. Some can’t sleep until it’s resolved. Some raise their voice and consider the matter closed within the hour while the other person is still thinking about it in July. None of these is wrong by itself. The mismatch is what does the damage.Ask outright whether you’d both go to counselling if it came to it. A lot of Muslim couples treat counselling as proof something’s already broken, which means it gets suggested at the exact point it’s least likely to work. Agreeing now that it’s on the table takes the shame out of it later.Arguments don’t end marriages. Ego does — specifically, both people waiting for the other one to apologise first.

Worth asking How did each of our families handle conflict? Do you need space when you’re upset, or resolution? Would you go to counselling if we needed it? Who do we talk to when it’s hard — and who do we not? What does an actual apology look like to you? The future: are you walking the same direction?

Five, ten years out. Career, deen, family, city, the thing you want that you haven’t told anyone.Is someone planning to move abroad? Go back to study? Start a business that eats the savings for three years? Does one of you picture a big loud house full of kids while the other pictures two and a lot of quiet? Is one of you staying near your parents forever while the other has been mentally packing since 2019?Ambition isn’t the problem. Undisclosed ambition is.Two people walking in different directions can’t build one home.

Worth asking Where do you want to be living in ten years? What do you want to have done by then? What would you need me to back, even when it’s inconvenient? What’s genuinely non-negotiable for you? What would make you feel this marriage went well? The short version

Here is a summary checklist of all the questions to ask referenced above:

Children Kids – yes/no, how many, when? How were each of us disciplined? Are we repeating it or actively not? Islamic school, public school, weekend madrasah, some combination? What does tarbiyah actually look like on a normal day? What if we can’t have children? Money Who provides, and what does that mean in practice? Savers or spenders? What did money look like in each of our houses? Joint account, separate, both? How are we handling zakat and sadaqah? Is there debt the other person doesn’t know about? (Ask. Now.) What are we saving for – house, Hajj, business, school? Family Where are we living year one? Does that change? How much time with each side, and who decides that? What if a parent needs to move in? What stays between us and doesn’t get relayed to family? If a parent objects to something we decided together — then what? Roles What did the split look like in each of our houses growing up? Are we both working? Does that change after kids? Who’s handling bills, admin, appointments? What does a regular weekday evening look like? What are we each quietly expecting that we haven’t said? Conflict How did each of our families handle conflict? Do you need space when you’re upset, or resolution? Would you go to counselling if we needed it? Who do we talk to when it’s hard — and who do we not? What does an actual apology look like to you? The future Where do you want to be living in ten years? What do you want to have done by then? What would you need me to back, even when it’s inconvenient? What’s genuinely non-negotiable for you? What would make you feel this marriage went well?

You don’t have to solve all six. You should mention all six sometime before marriage. The risk was never disagreeing. It’s getting to year three and realising the conversation never happened.

Frequently asked questions

What should you discuss before getting married in Islam?Six areas cover most of it: children and parenting approach, money and provision, family and in-law boundaries, division of work at home, how you handle conflict, and your five-to-ten-year plans. These are practical compatibility questions, alongside the character and deen questions couples usually cover first.What is the most important thing to agree on before marriage?Research points to money. A study of 4,574 couples found financial disagreements were the strongest predictor of divorce — stronger than disagreements about children, intimacy or in-laws — and the finding held regardless of the couple’s income, debt or net worth.How many questions should you ask before nikah?There’s no set number, and quality matters more than volume. Cover the six areas above rather than working through a long list. One honest conversation about money or in-laws is worth more than fifty surface-level questions.Is premarital counselling encouraged for Muslim couples?Many imams and Muslim counsellors offer premarital sessions, and plenty of couples find them useful for surfacing exactly these conversations. Whether you pursue it is personal — but agreeing in advance that counselling is acceptable makes it far more likely to help if you ever need it.What are red flags to look for before marriage?Refusing to discuss money, deflecting questions about family expectations, treating your ambitions as negotiable while treating theirs as fixed, or shutting down conversations by insisting it’ll work itself out. Avoidance during the talking stage rarely improves after the nikah.How do I bring up difficult topics before marriage?Ask about their family rather than about them. “How did your parents handle money?” is easier to answer than “are you a spender?” — and usually more revealing. Involving a wali or a trusted elder can also make the harder conversations more comfortable.

The takeaway

Nobody’s ever regretted having these conversations. Plenty of people regret assuming. Still looking to have these conversations with someone? Start with Muzz and get serious about marriage.