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I was boarding a Manchester-bound train from Sheffield when I noticed a lady struggling to lift a heavy box.
Instinctively, I offered to help. That simple act led to a golden conversation.
In just 45 minutes, I learnt more about Saudi women’s freedom, the hijab, and women’s rights than hours of research could ever teach.
Once seated opposite her, I asked whether she was going on holiday. With excitement in her voice, she replied, “No, I’m going back home, and I can’t wait.”
“Where is home?” I asked.
Noura (not her real name) explained she was returning to Saudi Arabia after completing a Master’s degree in International Relations.
Toward the end of our conversation, I told her I was a writer and intended to share what I learnt. She approved with genuine enthusiasm, even seeming excited at the idea.
While we spoke, a man played with a young boy in the adjacent seat, showing no interest in our chat. Later, Noura introduced him as her husband.
As I wondered why he wasn’t bothered that another man was speaking with his wife, Noura pre-empted me. “As you can see, he’s not worried that I’m talking to you. He’s not controlling in any way. I’m so lucky to have him,” she concluded with a sense of pride.
That simple remark challenged a stereotype: not all Saudi women are controlled by their men.
Her husband soon joined in. Though his English wasn’t as fluent, he was charming and easy to talk to.
My conversation with this thoughtful Saudi couple left me asking: Why have we in the West misunderstood Muslims and the Muslim world so much?
Here are the lessons I crystallised from that evening.
1. We’re Kind — Not All of Us Are Extremists
Noura said something striking: “We want the West to get the message we’re sending.”
“What is the message?” I asked.
“That we’re kind, and not all of us are extremists.”
She explained that Saudi Arabia is a moderate country. Yes, extremists exist, but they do not represent everyone.
I was struck by her confidence, fluency in a second language, and her ability to hold a deep, thoughtful conversation. She did not fit the image of an “oppressed, helpless damsel” portrayed in Western media.
Of course, I cannot generalise from a single person’s story. But I also cannot dismiss her lived experience.
2. I’m Happy With My Government and Its Support
As our conversation progressed, I asked, “Are you happy with your government, even though it isn’t elected?”
She replied without hesitation, “Yes, I am.”
She explained that her government paid for her UK Master’s degree, her husband’s English classes, and her child’s care while she studied.
“We may not have a democracy by Western definition,” she said, “but we’re happy with our government. The problem is the West expects us to be like them before they can accept that we’re okay.”
Her voice carried both enthusiasm and frustration at how the West views them.
Noura’s description of her government stood in contrast to what we often hear in Western media. According to the OECD’s SIGI Country Profile, there has been progress, while also noting that institutional gender norms remain.
3. Hijab in Saudi Arabia Is a Matter of Choice
“The West thinks Muslim women are oppressed and need rescuing,” Noura said thoughtfully. “We’re not. We’re free in our own way.”
So I asked: “Is the hijab optional in Saudi Arabia?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied.
She explained that while many women wear it, it remains a choice. Some of her friends don’t. For some, it has become more of a cultural expectation than a mandatory requirement.
I pressed further: “Can you go out without your husband?”
“Yes, I can,” she said firmly, her husband nodding in agreement.
As I observed them, I saw genuine connection and respect. Her husband encourages her freedom to speak openly—even to a stranger like me. That in itself said something powerful.
This revealed an important nuance about hijab choice in Saudi Arabia—it is often cultural, but still a matter of personal decision.
Noura explained that the hijab is optional, and in law, many agree that there is no compulsory dress code. At the same time, some recent reports suggest the picture is more complex.
In 2024, Saudi activist Manahel al-Otaibi was sentenced partly for her choice of clothing, which indicates that interpretation and enforcement can vary.
Similarly, fact-checkers in 2025 note that while official decrees allow women to go without abayas, social expectations and cultural norms still influence how freely women exercise that choice.
4. Women’s Rights in Saudi Arabia Are Protected by Law
When discussing the hijab, Noura mentioned something I never expected:
“If a man tries to force a woman to wear the hijab, she can go to the police,” she said.
She went on, “We have laws that protect women. And if they’re broken, the law defends us.”
A good example supporting Noura’s claim is the Personal Status Law, passed in 2022, which codifies certain legal reforms in Saudi Arabia. However, as Amnesty International notes, the law still leaves gaps in women’s agency over marriage, divorce, and guardianship.
Noura‘s revelation about the freedoms she enjoys as a woman stunned me. Before this conversation, the thought of Saudi courts protecting women never crossed my mind.
I partly blame myself for that ignorance, but the media also shares responsibility. Western coverage often highlights oppression while ignoring stories of women’s rights in Saudi Arabia being upheld.
I’m not suggesting those negative stories are false. But surely, a balanced picture is needed.
5. Respect and Partnership Exist in Saudi Marriages
As I spoke with Noura, her husband sat nearby, relaxed and attentive to their child. He showed no discomfort about her speaking openly with me.
Later, he joined the conversation with warmth and respect. What struck me most was how he encouraged her freedom to express her views, even with a stranger.
This challenged another common Western misconception — that Saudi husbands always control their wives. From what I witnessed, their relationship reflected a genuine partnership.
Conclusion
When I boarded that train from Sheffield to Manchester, I never imagined I’d meet such a couple. Even less probable was learning so much about Saudi Arabia in one short journey.
From Noura, I heard first-hand that Saudi Arabia might not be as unfriendly to women as we assume.
She wanted me to know her people are kind, not extremists. She was happy with her government. She felt free to wear the hijab—or not. And she trusted the courts to defend her rights.
Of course, this is one woman’s perspective. There are always other sides to the story.
But for me, that evening’s conversation was a humbling eye-opener about the life of Saudi women abroad and at home, and about the many misconceptions about Saudi culture we in the West still carry.
It reminded me that behind every policy, headline, or stereotype are individuals whose voices deserve to be heard.
