Over recent weeks I had the privilege of delivering Prophetic Leadership Emergence workshops for ISRA Academy’s Muslim Leadership Program, first in Sydney and then in Melbourne.

In Sydney I delivered the workshop alongside Professor Mehmet Ozalp. In Melbourne I had the special opportunity to facilitate alongside my PhD supervisor, A/Prof Zuleyha Keskin.

Different cities, same calibre of room.

Emerging leaders working in law, technology, engineering, finance, education, health, media, da’wah, advocacy and community service. All aged between 18 and 30. One generation, one ambition: to lead in their own right, in service of their communities.

Across both cohorts, one question surfaced again and again.

How do I become a leader without leaving behind the faith and the community that ground me?

It is a question I have lived with, and one I now research and teach.

For many young Muslims, leadership can feel like a performance. There is pressure to speak, act and present ourselves in ways that fit the expectations around us. Success can appear to require becoming someone else.

The alternative seems no better, because staying grounded is often mistaken for staying quiet, invisible or at the edges.

Neither of those is leadership.

Performance asks what the room wants to see. Emergence asks who you are becoming, and what that makes possible.

A performance has to be maintained. It works while people are watching, and it costs you something every time you put it on.

Emergence does not need an audience. It holds in the meeting where nobody is impressed, and in the decision nobody will ever hear about.

This is the difference the Sirah makes plain. The leadership of Prophet Muhammad (s) did not begin at the podium. It began long before, in character, in conviction and in who he had already become.

Skills, titles and platforms came later, and they carried weight precisely because of what sat underneath them.

That was the central idea of both workshops.

Becoming before performing.

In one word, emergence.

Leadership means more when it expresses who we are rather than covers for who we are not. Our principles stay rooted while our capacity to communicate, connect and serve keeps growing.

In a world that is fast, polarised and often confusing, we need leaders who are grounded in faith, aligned with their values and connected to the people they serve.

Such leaders do not appear by chance. We have to build the spaces, the mentoring and the experiences that help them emerge.

Each year I see the calibre of participants rise. After spending time with both the Sydney and Melbourne cohorts, I left with the same feeling.

Hope.

Two cities. One generation. One question.

And perhaps one shared answer. Young Muslims do not need to leave themselves behind in order to lead. They can grow more deeply rooted in who they are while becoming the leaders their communities and the wider society need.

The hope is in good hands.

May Allah  make them great leaders of their generation. Ameen.