The Black Editorial ™

The Black Editorial ™

She’s The Teacher We All Wish We Had Zahra Hassan

June 2025

Zahra Hassan, authentically herself captured in one of her many elements, wearing grills, a leather coat, and a hat with unapologetic style.

Zahra Hassan, authentically herself captured in one of her many elements, wearing grills, a leather coat, and a hat with unapologetic style.

Center of Community

Zahra Hassan is a proud Somali-Canadian educator, community worker, content creator, and fashion enthusiast based in Toronto, Ontario. Born and raised in the city, Zahra's identity is deeply rooted in her Somali heritage, a foundation that continues to shape her values, her work, and the way she moves through the world.

By day, Zahra is a full-time elementary school teacher leading a Grade two/three split classroom. She is deeply committed to creating safe, affirming spaces where students, especially those from marginalized communities, feel seen valued, and empowered to be themselves. As a Black Muslim woman in education, she embraces the responsibility of making sure her students experience representation in both the curriculum and their daily classroom environment. At the heart of her teaching philosophy is a simple truth: every child deserves to feel like they belong. Over the past four years, she has also mentored eight girls in Kenya through an organization called Fikia Dada Rescue Centre and helped raise money for eight girls to attend school.

Outside the classroom, Zahra expresses herself through fashion and storytelling. For her, style is more than a visual statement, it’s a powerful tool for reclaiming space, honoring her culture, and showing up fully as herself. This is shown through her collaborative work with UGG Canada, Staples Canada, and Adidas, to name a few. Whether styling thrifted gems or wearing statement pieces that reflect her roots, Zahra uses clothing to tell stories and encourage others to do the same. She finds beauty in intentional styling, especially in professional and creative spaces where people are often told to shrink themselves.

As a content creator, Zahra shares moments from her everyday life—from teacher outfits and lifestyle vlogs to community work, joy, and personal reflections. Her platform is a space rooted in authenticity and purpose, where she explores the intersection of identity, fashion, education, and community.

Her commitment to global grassroots work is reflected in her ongoing support of organizations like Fikia Dada Rescue Centre and Smile for Sache, which is shown regularly in her social presence. She also leads creative workshops and speaks on topics such as identity, representation, and the power of education.

Currently, Zahra is focused on bridging storytelling, education, and fashion, while staying grounded in the communities that inspire her. Whether she’s organizing behind the scenes, filming a reel, or teaching in her classroom, she leads with purpose, passion, and people at the center of it all.

And when she’s not teaching or creating, you’ll likely find her at a thrift store, editing content in a cozy café, or styling an outfit that makes her feel most like herself.

Teaching & Education

What inspired you to become an educator, and how has your teaching philosophy evolved over time?

“For me, becoming an educator was deeply personal. I didn’t always see myself reflected in my teachers growing up—whether that was in identity, teaching style, or the curriculum itself. I remember how it felt to sit in a classroom and feel invisible, like who I was didn’t fit the mold of what a “good student” looked like. Those experiences stayed with me, and I knew that one day, I wanted to be the kind of teacher I never had—someone who saw every student, who valued their voice, and who created a space where they could be their full selves without shrinking.

My love for working with kids started early, and it grew through community work and mentorship roles. The moment I stepped into a classroom as an educator, it just clicked. I knew this was bigger than a job—it was a calling. When I first started teaching, I was very focused on structure, routines, and making sure I was doing everything “by the book.” I thought being a good teacher meant having all the answers. But over time, I realized that the best educators are also learners—constantly growing, adapting, and making space for student voice.

My philosophy now is centered on relationship, representation, and relevance. I believe students learn best when they feel safe, seen, and supported. I prioritize culturally responsive teaching, affirming students’ identities, and ensuring that every child feels like their story matters in my classroom. I’ve also learned the importance of joy—how bringing love, humour, and authenticity into the space can transform learning.

Ultimately, I see teaching as an act of love and resistance. It’s about disrupting systems that weren’t built for all of us, and building something new—where every student not only belongs but thrives.”

How do you create an inclusive and empowering learning environment for your students?

“Creating an inclusive and empowering classroom starts with intention. I know that for many of my students—especially those from racialized, immigrant, or low-income backgrounds—school isn't always a space where they feel seen or heard. So from day one, I focus on relationship-building. I learn my student’s stories, cultures, and interests, and I bring those into the classroom. Whether it’s reading books with characters that reflect their lived experiences, incorporating music and language from their cultures, or just making time to talk about how they’re really doing, it’s all about seeing the whole child.

I also make sure my classroom is a space where students feel safe to take risks, ask questions, and express themselves. We co-create class norms together, and I’m transparent about making mistakes and learning alongside them. I tell them often: “This is your space too.” When kids feel ownership over their learning and trust their teacher, everything changes.

Representation matters. I intentionally center voices that have historically been excluded from the curriculum—Black, Indigenous, Muslim, immigrant, and neurodiverse voices—so my students can see themselves in the content and be inspired by others who look like them. And finally, I try to model authenticity. Whether it’s through what I wear, how I speak, or how I show up with love and realness, I want students to know that who they are is more than enough.”

Can you share a moment when a student’s growth or success reaffirmed your purpose as a teacher?

“Yes—there’s one student who comes to mind immediately. In my first year of teaching, I had a student who had just arrived in Canada and was navigating so much—language barriers, culture shock, and a lot of anxiety. At first, he barely spoke in class, kept his head down, and often chose to work alone. I could tell he was capable, but he didn’t yet believe that himself.

I made it my mission to create small, consistent moments of connection. We’d talk about his favorite foods, soccer teams, and even teach each other new words in English and his home language. I started giving him leadership roles in the classroom—first simple ones like handing out papers, then leading group work. Slowly, I saw him start to open up.

By the end of the year, he was presenting in front of the class, making friends, and even leading a discussion on a book about immigration that deeply resonated with him. After his presentation, he told me: “Miss, I didn’t think I’d ever speak in front of people here, but you helped me believe I could.” That moment still gives me chills. It reminded me that sometimes all a student needs is someone to see their light before they’re ready to shine. That’s why I do this.”

Shown in a leather black coat and grills, Zahra Hassan is unapologetically herself.
Shown in a leather black coat and grills, Zahra Hassan is unapologetically herself.

The teacher we all wish we had, “Representation matters. I intentionally center voices that have historically been excluded from the curriculum—Black, Indigenous, Muslim, immigrant, and neurodiverse voices—so my students can see themselves in the content and be inspired by others who look like them.”.

Community Advocacy & Social Impact

How do you balance being an educator and a community leader while staying true to your mission?

“Balancing both roles isn’t always easy, but they’ve always been connected for me. The work I do in the classroom and the work I do in the community are rooted in the same mission: to empower, affirm, and advocate for those who are often overlooked. Being a teacher doesn’t stop at 3:30. I carry my students with me into every space I step into—whether it’s at a community event, a creative collaboration, or a panel talk. And being a community worker allows me to bring real-world context, relationships, and lived experiences back into my teaching.

I’ve learned to protect my energy by being intentional with my time and by grounding everything I do in purpose, not pressure. I don’t take on everything—I ask myself, “Does this align with the impact I want to make?” I’ve also learned the power of rest, reflection, and surrounding myself with people who remind me of my why.”

How can schools and educators better collaborate with communities to support students?

“It starts with shifting the mindset from “schools know best” to “we’re in this together.” Families and communities are students' first teachers, and they hold deep knowledge, culture, and wisdom. When schools invite that in—through authentic partnerships, culturally responsive practices, and genuine relationship-building—students thrive.

Educators can start by listening more, judging less, and showing up in community spaces—not just when there's a problem, but when there's something to celebrate. It means valuing diverse ways of knowing, being open to non-traditional forms of learning, and seeing caregivers not as obstacles but as collaborators. It also means asking: Who’s not at the table? And making sure we build tables that are inclusive and accessible for everyone, especially those whose voices are often ignored.”

How do you prepare for speaking engagements, and what’s the most important message you aim to convey?

“When I prepare to speak, I always come back to storytelling. I ask myself: What’s the real, lived experience behind this topic? What do I want people to feel, not just know? I often write out my thoughts like a letter to someone I care about—that helps me keep it grounded and personal. I also try to show up as my full self—whether that means showing up in my hoop earrings and sweats or sharing a vulnerable story. I want people to know that you don’t have to change who you are to take up space.

The most important message I try to convey is: Your story, your culture, your voice—it matters. And when we lead with love, courage, and community, we can build something so much better than what’s been handed to us.”

Zahra Hassan shown with community events as to what community support is.
Zahra Hassan shown with community events as to what community support is.

Whether presenting to the community or working alongside it, Zahra Hassan remains a representation of what community support is.

Fashion & Personal Branding

Have you faced any challenges in being both a serious educator and a fashion-forward individual?

“Definitely. There’s an unspoken expectation in education that professionalism has to look a certain way—neutral tones, muted personality, minimal expression. And as a Black Muslim woman who loves bold colours, statement pieces, and streetwear just as much as I love lesson planning, I’ve had people online question whether my style fits the role of an educator.

There’s this idea that if you care about fashion, you must be less serious or less focused on your students. But I’ve always believed that you can care deeply about your work and show up in a way that’s authentic to who you are. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.

It took time to fully embrace that. Early on, I sometimes second-guessed my outfit choices or worried about being “too much.” But the more I leaned into who I am, the more I saw how powerful it was—especially for my students. They notice when you show up confidently and unapologetically. It gives them permission to do the same.”

What message do you hope to send through your unique approach to fashion and professionalism?

“My message is simple: You don’t have to shrink yourself to be taken seriously. Professionalism isn’t about conforming—it’s about showing up with integrity, intention, and purpose. And for me, that includes what I wear. My fashion tells a story—it reflects my culture, my creativity, and my confidence.

I want young people—especially Black girls, Muslim students, and those from immigrant families—to see that they can be multidimensional. You can be the teacher, the creative, the leader, and the one turning looks in the hallway.

I use fashion as a form of joy, resistance, and representation. Every outfit is a reminder that you are allowed to be all the things—and take up space doing it.”

"Every outfit is a reminder that you are allowed to be all the things—and take up space doing it.”

Serving as a reminder that you are allowed to be all the things—and take up space doing it.

Future Goals & Legacy

If you could change one thing about the education system, what would it be and why?

“If I could change one thing, it would be the way we define and measure success. Right now, the system still prioritizes standardization—test scores, grades, compliance—over things like creativity, emotional intelligence, identity, and lived experience. That kind of thinking doesn’t serve all students, and it certainly doesn’t reflect the brilliance that exists in our classrooms.

I want to see an education system that centres humanity. One where students are seen as whole people, not just data points. Where their stories, cultures, and ways of learning are celebrated rather than erased. Where schools actively work to dismantle systemic barriers, not reinforce them. Because the truth is, for many Black, Indigenous, newcomer, and racialized students, the system wasn’t built with us in mind. So if we’re serious about equity, we need to reimagine what education can look like—not just reform what already exists.”

What legacy do you want to leave for the next generation of educators and changemakers?

“I want to leave behind a legacy rooted in authenticity, love, and liberation. I want future educators to know that you don’t have to fit into a box to make an impact. You can lead with your whole self—your culture, your fashion, your heart—and still be respected, effective, and transformative. I hope my work shows that teaching is more than just curriculum—it’s a calling, a form of activism, and an act of community care. I want to leave behind classrooms where students remember how they felt—safe, valued, powerful—not just what they learned.

And for those who come after me—especially Black Muslim women educators—I want them to feel like the door is open a little wider. Like they can show up fully, take up space unapologetically, and know that their presence alone is already creating change. That’s the kind of legacy I’m working toward.”

Zahra Hassan

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Smile For Sache

In this story: Photographer Lexi.

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