July.10.2025, 07:54:54 PM

Faith, fame and finding his voice: How Farzaan became Farzy

Faith, fame and finding his voice: How Farzaan became Farzy

The Muslim content creator credits his success to his faith in Islam

The Muslim content creator credits his success to his faith in Islam

Khalid Alsadek

Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025

[Farzaan Aleem]

[Farzaan Aleem]

Despite growing up in a traditional Muslim and Indian household, 23-year-old content creator Farzaan “Farzy” Aleem said his connection to Islam was not where he wanted it to be when he first began producing videos.

“When I first started making content, my Iman wasn’t as high as it should’ve been,” he said. “I was 20 years old, and I didn’t have much knowledge. I had zero Muslim friends. The people around me didn’t really do anything religious… so I was the same.”

Looking back, Aleem credits his rise to fame not just to his comedic skits, but to an unplanned journey with his faith.

With more than five million followers across TikTok and Instagram under his account name lifewfarzy his feed blends humor, satire and personal reflections — creating a space where Muslims feel seen, and non-Muslims get a glimpse into someone navigating life through the lens of Islam.

“I want to be able to show people how I was able to become successful, and also be able to grow in my deen — and at the same time still be relatable,” he said. “Not only to Muslims, but to non-Muslims. And that is my strength in my form of dawah.”

Aleem recalls making skits and corny YouTube videos as a kid, but his journey into full-time content creation, like his spiritual growth, was unplanned.

It started when he was a sophomore in college during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I was just bored in my dorm,” he said. “I was like, man, what else could I do that feels productive but also something that's fun? I love to lift, I love to work out, but I also love to create content.”

Gradually, he ramped up his output. “It just went from one TikTok a day to three.”

As he gained a steady stream of followers, he kept his success quiet.

“I didn’t even tell anyone I was doing it,” he said. “My friends found out when I hit 300K. My parents didn’t find out until I had a million.”

Behind the screen, however, Aleem’s spirituality was lacking due to the environment around him.

“It wasn’t just that I wasn’t religious — I didn’t really feel like I had space to be,” he said.

But as his audience grew, resonating with many Muslim social media users in the United States, he began turning to Islam for guidance.

“I started praying, and asked Allah, ‘What is my purpose? What am I supposed to do?” he said. “Is it meant for me, my destiny, to become successful in this manner?”

“I didn’t even realize it at first,” he said. “Even when I wasn’t religious, I was getting closer to Allah without knowing. And when I finally started learning more, Allah started testing me more.”

Not everyone in the Muslim community, however, was supportive. Aleem said some reactions online made his spiritual journey more difficult.

“It wasn’t criticism that helped me grow,” he said, referring to how some Muslims viewed his skits. “It was the judgment. People telling me ‘what you’re doing is wrong’ in a way that felt harsh. That kind of stuff… it didn’t bring me closer to Islam. It pushed me away.”

The judgment became overwhelming.

“I’d hear them and be like, who are you to say what I’m doing is right or wrong? Only Allah can judge me.”

Aleem said much of the criticism came from Muslim influencers who publicly call others out — often harshly. Online, they're sometimes referred to as the “dawah police.”

“A lot of them come off with the intention of hate,” he said. “It’s not from a place of love. It’s emotional. It’s performative.”

He believes their approach can hinder the spiritual growth of Muslims.

“I’m not trying to be a hater. I’m trying to come off as a brother,” he said. “But deep down, you know that what you’re doing isn’t helping people grow in their Deen. It’s just building a cult audience and pushing people away.”

Despite the rocky road, Aleem said those experiences over the years deepened his faith, recently inspiring him to create farzyspeaks — a side account where he reflects more openly on Islam, self-improvement and who he really is.

“My main objective is just to show people my authenticity. Who I really am as a creator,” he said. “Yeah, you’ve seen me as the funny guy, but there’s a lot more to that.”

One of his goals for the project is to show how Islam has shaped his success — especially for non-Muslim audiences.

“I want non-Muslims to look at me and be like, ‘Yo, I thought Muslims were like this, or like that — but this guy’s just like me. And if his success comes from being Muslim... maybe there’s something there.’”

Despite his popularity and goals, Aleem still deals with self-doubt — often.

“Sometimes I look at my videos and think, bro, this sucks. I feel like I’m not even that funny anymore. And then everyone’s like, this is hilarious,” he said. “That imposter syndrome hits.”

He recalled that even some of his closest friends — people who helped film his videos — urged him to quit content creation and get a traditional full-time job.

“I was at the peak of my content, and everyone’s like, you’re gonna fail. And I’m thinking — I’m trusting Allah more than I ever have… why does it feel like I’m being told to stop?”

For many of his followers, Aleem’s content is more than just funny. It’s a source of inspiration, especially for their faith.

“I’ve had DMs from people saying they started praying again because of my videos,” he said. “People say I made Islam feel real to them again.”

Social media users often share their gratitude in the comment section.

“I couldn’t feel more proud that I’m one of the people who gets to witness your journey,” one user commented on his lifewfarzy account. “May Allah always keep you on the blessed path and protect you and your fam from all harm. Ameen.”

Another wrote, “Proud of you brother — keep inspiring the young Muslim generation to take risks and not be doubtful of their actions, rather be firm on them.”

Aleem said that despite the rocky journey, he has no plans to stop anytime soon.

“I used to think people who had millions of followers were different,” he said. “But there’s no difference. The only difference is they just kept going.”

Despite growing up in a traditional Muslim and Indian household, 23-year-old content creator Farzaan “Farzy” Aleem said his connection to Islam was not where he wanted it to be when he first began producing videos.

“When I first started making content, my Iman wasn’t as high as it should’ve been,” he said. “I was 20 years old, and I didn’t have much knowledge. I had zero Muslim friends. The people around me didn’t really do anything religious… so I was the same.”

Looking back, Aleem credits his rise to fame not just to his comedic skits, but to an unplanned journey with his faith.

With more than five million followers across TikTok and Instagram under his account name lifewfarzy his feed blends humor, satire and personal reflections — creating a space where Muslims feel seen, and non-Muslims get a glimpse into someone navigating life through the lens of Islam.

“I want to be able to show people how I was able to become successful, and also be able to grow in my deen — and at the same time still be relatable,” he said. “Not only to Muslims, but to non-Muslims. And that is my strength in my form of dawah.”

Aleem recalls making skits and corny YouTube videos as a kid, but his journey into full-time content creation, like his spiritual growth, was unplanned.

It started when he was a sophomore in college during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I was just bored in my dorm,” he said. “I was like, man, what else could I do that feels productive but also something that's fun? I love to lift, I love to work out, but I also love to create content.”

Gradually, he ramped up his output. “It just went from one TikTok a day to three.”

As he gained a steady stream of followers, he kept his success quiet.

“I didn’t even tell anyone I was doing it,” he said. “My friends found out when I hit 300K. My parents didn’t find out until I had a million.”

Behind the screen, however, Aleem’s spirituality was lacking due to the environment around him.

“It wasn’t just that I wasn’t religious — I didn’t really feel like I had space to be,” he said.

But as his audience grew, resonating with many Muslim social media users in the United States, he began turning to Islam for guidance.

“I started praying, and asked Allah, ‘What is my purpose? What am I supposed to do?” he said. “Is it meant for me, my destiny, to become successful in this manner?”

“I didn’t even realize it at first,” he said. “Even when I wasn’t religious, I was getting closer to Allah without knowing. And when I finally started learning more, Allah started testing me more.”

Not everyone in the Muslim community, however, was supportive. Aleem said some reactions online made his spiritual journey more difficult.

“It wasn’t criticism that helped me grow,” he said, referring to how some Muslims viewed his skits. “It was the judgment. People telling me ‘what you’re doing is wrong’ in a way that felt harsh. That kind of stuff… it didn’t bring me closer to Islam. It pushed me away.”

The judgment became overwhelming.

“I’d hear them and be like, who are you to say what I’m doing is right or wrong? Only Allah can judge me.”

Aleem said much of the criticism came from Muslim influencers who publicly call others out — often harshly. Online, they're sometimes referred to as the “dawah police.”

“A lot of them come off with the intention of hate,” he said. “It’s not from a place of love. It’s emotional. It’s performative.”

He believes their approach can hinder the spiritual growth of Muslims.

“I’m not trying to be a hater. I’m trying to come off as a brother,” he said. “But deep down, you know that what you’re doing isn’t helping people grow in their Deen. It’s just building a cult audience and pushing people away.”

Despite the rocky road, Aleem said those experiences over the years deepened his faith, recently inspiring him to create farzyspeaks — a side account where he reflects more openly on Islam, self-improvement and who he really is.

“My main objective is just to show people my authenticity. Who I really am as a creator,” he said. “Yeah, you’ve seen me as the funny guy, but there’s a lot more to that.”

One of his goals for the project is to show how Islam has shaped his success — especially for non-Muslim audiences.

“I want non-Muslims to look at me and be like, ‘Yo, I thought Muslims were like this, or like that — but this guy’s just like me. And if his success comes from being Muslim... maybe there’s something there.’”

Despite his popularity and goals, Aleem still deals with self-doubt — often.

“Sometimes I look at my videos and think, bro, this sucks. I feel like I’m not even that funny anymore. And then everyone’s like, this is hilarious,” he said. “That imposter syndrome hits.”

He recalled that even some of his closest friends — people who helped film his videos — urged him to quit content creation and get a traditional full-time job.

“I was at the peak of my content, and everyone’s like, you’re gonna fail. And I’m thinking — I’m trusting Allah more than I ever have… why does it feel like I’m being told to stop?”

For many of his followers, Aleem’s content is more than just funny. It’s a source of inspiration, especially for their faith.

“I’ve had DMs from people saying they started praying again because of my videos,” he said. “People say I made Islam feel real to them again.”

Social media users often share their gratitude in the comment section.

“I couldn’t feel more proud that I’m one of the people who gets to witness your journey,” one user commented on his lifewfarzy account. “May Allah always keep you on the blessed path and protect you and your fam from all harm. Ameen.”

Another wrote, “Proud of you brother — keep inspiring the young Muslim generation to take risks and not be doubtful of their actions, rather be firm on them.”

Aleem said that despite the rocky journey, he has no plans to stop anytime soon.

“I used to think people who had millions of followers were different,” he said. “But there’s no difference. The only difference is they just kept going.”

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Copyright © 2025 - Islamic - All rights reserved

Copyright © 2025 - Islamic - All rights reserved

Copyright © 2025 - Islamic - All rights reserved

Copyright © 2025 - Islamic - All rights reserved