Ambrose Murangira

I belong to many different WhatsApp groups for the Deaf, and sometimes the short exchanges there say a lot more than they seem to at first. Today evening (EAT), in the “UNAD – Deaf Community Forum,”

Harriet wrote: “Abdul and Nasser, I see many Deaf Muslims going to church instead of the mosque.”

Fatuma quickly replied:

“Church Sunday is socializing. Friday they go to mosque.”

This simple back-and-forth stopped me in my tracks. As a Deaf person, I have observed the same thing, but we rarely pause to unpack what it really means. Allow me to share some reflections, maybe together we can build on this conversation.

Church as a place of belonging

For many Deaf people, church is more than prayer. It is a space for friendship, community, and connection. Sunday services often come with opportunities to socialize, meet peers, and feel included. In some churches, there are Deaf fellowships, sign language interpreters, or even Deaf choirs, making participation possible and enjoyable. It is not just about religion; it is about being part of something bigger where you are seen and valued.

Living in two worlds

From the outside, it may look like Deaf Muslims are “abandoning” their faith by going to church. But Fatuma’s comment reminds us: Friday remains a day of devotion at the mosque, while Sunday is for socializing at the church. This is not contradiction. It is balance. It is the ability to live in two worlds, honoring faith while also seeking the human need for connection.

When accessibility shapes choices

Behind this pattern lies an uncomfortable truth: many mosques are not yet accessible for Deaf people. Sermons are rarely interpreted, and learning Islamic teachings in sign language is still limited. In contrast, some churches have invested in making their spaces welcoming and accessible. Naturally, this makes church more attractive, not as a substitute for Islam, but as a place where Deaf persons feel included.

More than worship: Building social networks

Going to church also expands social opportunities. For Deaf Muslims, it may open doors to new friendships, community support, and even economic opportunities. These networks are powerful sources of confidence and belonging. What might seem like a simple choice of where to worship is, in fact, a practical strategy for navigating a world that often excludes Deaf people.

A question for us all

Harriet and Fatuma’s exchange may have been brief, but it opens up big questions. What does it mean when one religious space is experienced as more welcoming than another? What would it take for mosques to be just as inclusive through sign language, Deaf leadership, and recognition of Deaf culture?

The truth is: Deaf Muslims are not confused. They are adapting, balancing, and making the best of the options available to them. Their choices should challenge all of us to think about how inclusive our religious and social spaces really are.

So, what do you think? Have you seen this dynamic in your own communities? How might faith spaces (mosques, churches, or others) do more to welcome Deaf people fully?