Meet Suleiman Adan

We recently connected with Suleiman Adan and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Suleiman, you’ve got such an interesting story, but before we jump into that, let’s first talk about a topic near and dear to us – generosity. We think success, happiness and wellbeing depends on authentic generosity and empathy and so we’d love to hear about how you become such a generous person – where do you think your generosity comes from?

It comes from loose change.

From couch cushions and laundry machines. From digging through jacket pockets and the back seats of old cars, hoping to gather enough for a haircut. What others called routine, I called luxury. New Nikes were out of reach. A clean taper felt as far away as a vacation.

I come from returned gifts. The kind bought with love and sent back after a bitter divorce that didn’t just break a marriage but fractured a childhood. I grew up where struggle wasn’t a moment—it was the setting. And yet, that struggle fed me. It taught me to find beauty in scarcity and power in showing up with nothing but my name.

Even as a child, I was learning how to give. How to stretch five dollars across two weeks. How to show up with a smile even when I was walking through pain. And that spirit never left me.

So when I lost my job in 2022, it hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just about income. It was about identity. About feeling like everything I had built was slipping. I went to my teacher, my imam, heart heavy and hands shaking. And he told me, “If you want to get through this grief, give. Give from what you have. Let God show you His goodness.”

So I did. Even when all I had was time and energy and prayer. I gave. And wallahi, God showed up. Doors opened. Hearts softened. And just like that, provision came.

That is where my generosity comes from.

It comes from knowing what it feels like to be without. From memories of cutting my own hair in the mirror, from bringing home groceries one can at a time. It comes from the teenage boy I once was, starting a tutoring program in the hallway of our Section 8 apartment, not because I had a lot, but because I had just enough to care.

Now, I give because I remember. I give because someone out there is counting coins, hoping to be seen. I give because I have seen what it means to receive mercy when I least deserved it. And I want to be that for someone else.

Not out of abundance.

Out of love.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

I often joke that I’m the epitome of a jack of all trades, and I say that with genuine joy. My life and work don’t fit neatly into a single box. Through my company, Growth Over Comfort, I teach the Quran, not just how to read it, but how to understand it, live by it, and love it. I work with students as young as six years old and as seasoned as their fifties, going directly to their homes. The goal is never just recitation. It is to build a relationship with learning that feels joyful, not forced. Every lesson is about nurturing a deeper connection to faith, knowledge, and growth.

I also train people in effective interfaith dialogue, helping communities of different faiths understand one another with respect and sincerity. And in a completely unexpected turn, I’m now pursuing a Master of Divinity at the historic Chicago Theological Seminary through Bayan Islamic Seminary. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be formally studying theology, but here I am, walking through this divine detour with purpose.

At the heart of it all is a dream I’ve carried for years. I’ve always told my wife that my ultimate calling is to open a community based mosque, one that reflects the true essence of Islam and the legacy of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. A place where leadership doesn’t sit on a pedestal, but walks side by side with the people. A place where being an Imam means being present, being real, and being of service.

I’m also leaning into my growth as an artist. In a perfect world, I’d spend all my time creating the kind of art that warms hearts from the inside out. That’s still the dream. But for now, I work with what I have to bring that vision closer to life. My latest project is an anthology and gallery focused on Black and Black diaspora fatherhood. It’s a labor of love that uplifts the stories of single fathers, married fathers, stepfathers, grandfathers, and father figures. Their experiences are rich and powerful, but far too often, they go unheard. This summer, I hope to showcase this work with a public exhibit and panel discussion, not just to reflect, but to spark change.

Beyond that, I run a free tutoring program in Minneapolis, also through Growth Over Comfort. My goal is simple: to plant a lifelong love of reading and learning in Black and Black diaspora children. Period. I’m also a peer recovery advocate, walking alongside people on their journey to sobriety. I don’t see myself as a savior. I’m just one soul walking with another, offering warmth and community in a world that often feels cold.

Most recently, I’ve started volunteering in prisons. This is new for me, but I feel called to it. I want to bring light to places where the system often tries to snuff it out. And if I’m being honest, everything I do today is shaped by a deeper personal mission, to be the father I didn’t have. To show up with presence, protection, and purpose.

Growth Over Comfort is not just a name. It is the truth I live by. My brand isn’t built on perfection. It’s built on showing up, staying rooted, and walking with people as we all try to find our way. That’s who I am. And that’s what I hope the world sees in the work I do.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

One of the most important skills I’ve developed is the ability to instill the love of learning. Not just the kind that leads to good grades or degrees, but the kind that makes someone fall in love with reading for the sake of reading. Learning for the sake of wonder. Whether I’m teaching the Quran to a six-year-old or sitting with a teenager who says they hate books, my goal is the same—to help them find joy in the process of discovery. I want my students to feel like knowledge belongs to them, not just to those in power.

This skill shows up in every part of my work. When I teach the Quran, I teach it with heart. I meet students in their homes, at their pace, and I center the beauty of understanding. When I tutor kids in Minneapolis, it’s never about just catching up on homework. It’s about creating moments where they light up because something finally made sense or a story pulled them in. That spark is what I live for. That is how you build lifelong learners.

The second quality that has shaped me is presence. Just showing up and staying. So many of us are used to people walking away when things get hard. I’ve tried to be the kind of person who sticks around. Whether it’s a student, someone in recovery, or a father behind bars, my presence is part of the teaching. It says, “You matter.” And when someone believes they matter, they learn differently.

The third is humility. I’ve never claimed to know it all. Even when I teach, I teach from a place of learning. I’ve been shaped by my teachers, by my students, by the elders who sat with me, and by the mistakes that taught me what books couldn’t. Humility keeps me grounded. It keeps me open.

So if you’re early in your journey, here’s what I’ll say. Help others fall in love with learning again. Not with pressure, but with joy. Be present, even when you feel unsure. And stay humble enough to keep growing. That’s how change begins. That’s how we build something that lasts.

What’s been one of your main areas of growth this year?

For me, it’s been patience in the process. My natural instinct is to move. Go go go. Pedal to the floor. Haul *** they say. I have always had this drive to push, to get things done, to sprint toward the goal. But over the last year, I’ve had to learn—over and over—that we are not on our own time. We are on His time. On God’s time.

And His time is never slow. Never rushed. It’s always right on time. Why? Because He knows me better than I know myself. I call it character development. It’s the kind of growth you do not see in a planner or a checklist. It is the kind that shapes your spirit.

I had to learn to trust in His holy and divine wisdom. To believe that the delays, the redirections, the pauses, they were not denials. They were invitations. Invitations to surrender. To grow. To remember that I am not just chasing a goal. I am on a journey to Him.

That shift changed everything. It slowed me down in the best way. It reminded me that the goal is never the finish line. The goal is to become someone worth arriving. Someone grounded. Someone who trusts God’s timing even when I do not understand it.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: dawah.247
• Linkedin: https://linkedin.com/in/suleimanadan

Image Credits

Suleiman Abdi Adan (Suleiman Al Somaal)