They fled persecution in Myanmar. In Muslim-majority Malaysia, Rohingya still struggle to belong

Nur Sadek was once on track to become an Islamic scholar. His mother dreamed of raising a son who would serve as a faith leader in their western Myanmar village.

Sadek’s family belongs to the Rohingya ethnic minority. The predominantly Muslim group shares an area in Myanmar's Rakhine State with Buddhists and a smaller Hindu population. Ethnic and religious divisions have long shaped the region’s history.

He fled alongside loved ones in 2017 after soldiers opened fire on his community and bullets struck the tin roof of his home. He ran with nothing but the clothes on his back and never returned.

Around 700,000 Rohingya escaped a military crackdown that year and crossed into neighboring Bangladesh, according to the U.N. refugee agency, known as UNHCR. More have sought refuge in other countries across Asia, including India, Indonesia and Thailand.

As of February 2026, about 126,000 Rohingya were registered with UNHCR in Malaysia, a Muslim-majority country where Sadek now studies law and advocates for Rohingya rights.

The Southeast Asian nation does not legally recognize refugees, leaving them vulnerable to detention. But the challenges extend beyond immigration status. Many Rohingya struggle to practice their faith and find a sense of belonging.

CSW, a religious freedom advocacy group, said in a statement to The Associated Press that Rohingya refugees in Malaysia cannot officially register their own places of worship. Most pray at local mosques, but some face discrimination or avoid them for fear of immigration detention.

“Religious solidarity is often overtaken by social and cultural differences between the two groups,” CSW said.

Finding a place to pray is only the beginning of the struggle

Nurul Hakim was the first of 10 siblings to flee Myanmar, leaving in 2010. He arrived in Kuala Lumpur after days of traveling on foot, by car and by boat, passing through Thailand.

His family was not directly attacked. Yet years of violence and discrimination had made life increasingly difficult for his community.

Rohingya Muslims in Rakhine faced restrictions on religious gatherings, access to mosques and Islamic education for years. Authorities have closed mosques and imposed limits on communal prayer, according to reports by the United Nations and Amnesty International.

Hakim can now pray freely and feels welcomed by local Muslim faith leaders. But he has heard from Rohingya elsewhere in Malaysia who have been barred from doing so.

Rohingya Rights Response, an organization co-founded by Sadek that monitors issues affecting refugees in Malaysia, has also documented restrictions on religious practices.

Banners declaring that Rohingya are unwelcome have been displayed outside mosques in some neighborhoods. And even where they can pray freely, some aspects of their religious life remain difficult to recreate far from home.

“Most of the Rohingya don’t have their own imam leading the prayers because the mosques are run by Malay imams,” Sadek said.

Missing home adds to the challenges of starting over

There is much Hakim misses about home: his days pulling a rickshaw, trading goods with his neighbors, learning about Islam alongside fellow Rohingya.

“There is no difference in praying at a different mosque, but there are differences with who you are praying with,” Hakim said. “When I was back in Myanmar and I went to pray, I could pray with my neighbors, with my villagers, and I don’t have that here.”

Others face a more immediate obstacle to practicing their faith: fear of detention over their lack of legal status.

Mohammed Rafique said he now prays mostly at home and rarely visits a mosque because he worries about encountering immigration authorities.

He fled Myanmar in 2009 with his wife and five children, but they stayed in Bangladesh while he continued to Malaysia. He has not seen them since.

Living alone in a foreign land has been tough, Rafique said. He earns just 30 ringgit ($7.50) a day collecting scrap materials, barely enough to pay for needed medication. Yet the hardest moment he has faced was learning that his wife had died and he'd been unable to say goodbye.

Sadek knows that pain, too. He lost his mother in Bangladesh and has yet to visit her grave.

“I always wanted to do a lot of stuff, but now I just want to visit her cemetery and that has become like a dream for me,” he said.

A new life brings hardships without erasing old losses

Sadek’s organization advocates for changes that would improve the lives of his community in Malaysia.

His main focus is safety. Beyond the risk of immigration detention, his team has documented harassment by social media content creators who mock and demean Rohingya refugees. He also pushes for fair wages, access to healthcare and education.

For Zahidah Begum, those challenges are part of everyday life. Her husband struggles to work because of health problems. Her school-age children cannot attend formal classes.

“I don’t know what the future holds for us,” Begum said.

She fled Myanmar in 2013, carrying her own memories of religious persecution.

Her father, an imam, was a respected religious leader in their village. He taught Islamic studies every day from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.

“I love my father because of what he did,” she said. “He is the one who raised me, who taught me everything, including the Islamic teachings.”

It was her father who introduced her to the Quran. Who taught her to read and understand its verses. To distinguish between what her faith permitted and forbade.

During a raid on her village, soldiers tried to arrest him. He fell and broke his leg as he tried to escape. He eventually fled to Bangladesh, but was unable to receive medical treatment. His injury became infected and he died.

“I miss every moment of my father,” Begum said.

She keeps a part of him alive through lessons she passes on to her two daughters. Begum teaches them to pray, to recite verses from the Quran and to make duas, or personal supplications to God, just as her father taught her.

“I still feel the same connection to my faith that I felt back home,” Begum said. “Even here, I remain connected to my religion.”

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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.