Halima Aden Is First To Wear A Burkini In 'Sports Delineated' Bathing suit Issue
Halima Aden Is First to Wear Burkini in SI Swimsuit Issue: How One Image Reshaped the Fashion Industry Forever
Let's be honest: the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue has never been a bastion of progressive values. For decades, it was a glossy shrine to a very specific, very narrow ideal of beauty—one that was overwhelmingly white, impossibly thin, and draped in the smallest possible scraps of fabric. So when a Somali‑American Muslim model named Halima Aden stepped onto a beach in Kenya in April 2019 wearing a full‑coverage burkini—complete with a hijab and flowing fabric that left everything to the imagination—it wasn't just a photo shoot. It was a declaration of war on an entire industry's assumptions about who gets to be seen as beautiful, desirable, and worthy of celebration. And seven years later, the ripples from that single image are still spreading, reshaping everything from the global modest fashion market to the very definition of empowerment.
Back in 2019, when this article was first published, the moment was electric. Aden, then 21 years old, stood on Watamu Beach in a custom burkini designed by Cynthia Rowley, photographed by Yu Tsai. She was not the first Muslim woman to appear in the issue—Somali‑American model Iman had graced its pages decades earlier—but she was the first to do so in a hijab and a garment that explicitly honored her religious commitment to modesty. "I'm totally in shock," Aden said at the time. "Being in Sports Illustrated is a huge deal. But being in it while staying true to myself? That's the dream." The image went viral. Headlines proclaimed a new era of inclusivity. And for a brief, shining moment, it felt like the fashion industry might actually be turning a corner.
"I'm totally in shock. Being in Sports Illustrated is a huge deal. But being in it while staying true to myself? That's the dream."
The Backstory: From Refugee Camp to Runway Royalty
To understand why Aden's burkini moment mattered so much, you have to understand where she came from. Aden was born in the sprawling Kakuma refugee camp in northwestern Kenya, a sprawling settlement that houses more than 180,000 people fleeing conflict in neighboring countries, including Somalia. She lived there until age seven, when her family was resettled in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Growing up as a Black, Muslim, hijab‑wearing girl in the American Midwest was not easy, but Aden found her footing—and her voice—early. In 2016, she made history as the first contestant in the Miss Minnesota USA pageant to wear a hijab and a burkini. She didn't win, but she didn't need to. The images of a young Muslim woman competing in a swimsuit competition while fully covered captured the world's imagination. Soon after, she was signed to IMG Models, the same agency that represents Gigi Hadid and Karlie Kloss, and her career exploded. She walked the runway for Kanye West's Yeezy line, appeared on the cover of Vogue Arabia, and became the face of a Nike campaign featuring the brand's first performance hijab. By the time SI Swimsuit came calling, Aden was already a trailblazer. But the burkini shoot elevated her from a model with a story to a symbol of something much larger: the idea that faith and fashion were not mutually exclusive.
The 2019 SI Swimsuit Moment: What It Meant Then
The 2019 SI Swimsuit issue was a deliberate pivot toward inclusivity. Editor MJ Day had been working for years to expand the magazine's definition of beauty, featuring plus‑size models like Ashley Graham, older models like Paulina Porizkova, and athletes like Serena Williams. But Aden's inclusion was different. It wasn't just about body type or age; it was about identity—about a woman who chose to cover her body not out of shame but out of faith, and who demanded to be seen as beautiful on her own terms. "I wanted to show that modesty and beauty can go hand in hand," Aden told reporters. "You don't have to show skin to be sexy."
The shoot itself was a logistical and cultural negotiation. Aden worked closely with the SI team to ensure that every detail aligned with her values. The burkini was custom‑designed by Cynthia Rowley, a longtime SI collaborator, and Aden was accompanied by her mother, who helped ensure that the shoot remained respectful. The location—Watamu Beach, not far from the refugee camp where Aden was born—added a layer of poetic resonance. The girl who had fled Somalia as a child was now gracing the pages of one of America's most iconic magazines, just miles from where her journey began. The images were stunning: Aden emerging from the turquoise water, her hijab billowing behind her, her smile radiant. She looked powerful, joyful, and utterly at home. The message was unmistakable: Muslim women belong in the mainstream. They belong on magazine covers. They belong on the beach. And they don't have to compromise who they are to be there.
The Backlash: Why Some People Lost Their Minds
Of course, not everyone celebrated. The backlash was swift, predictable, and revealing. On social media and in the comments sections of every article about the shoot, critics accused SI of "pandering" to political correctness and "forcing" diversity. Some argued that a burkini had no place in a swimsuit issue, that it was a symbol of oppression, not liberation. Others took a more sinister tack, suggesting that Aden's inclusion was part of a broader "Islamization" of Western culture—a familiar dog whistle that has followed Muslim public figures for decades. "This isn't fashion, it's propaganda," one viral tweet declared. "SI Swimsuit is supposed to be about celebrating the female form, not hiding it."
But the criticism missed the point entirely. Aden wasn't hiding; she was choosing. The burkini, for her, was not a cage but a key—a garment that allowed her to participate in a space from which she would otherwise be excluded. And her presence in the magazine was not about erasing other forms of beauty; it was about expanding the definition to include hers. As Aden herself put it, "I'm not asking anyone else to cover up. I'm just asking to be included." The irony, of course, is that the same people who claimed to celebrate female empowerment were often the loudest voices trying to dictate what empowerment should look like. Aden's message was simple: empowerment is not one‑size‑fits‑all. For some women, it's wearing a bikini. For others, it's wearing a burkini. And neither is more valid than the other.
The Modest Fashion Boom: A $311 Billion Market Emerges
If the backlash was predictable, so was the market's response—but in a very different direction. The global modest fashion industry, which was already growing rapidly in 2019, has exploded in the years since. According to the State of the Global Islamic Economy Report 2025/26, Muslim consumers spent approximately $311 billion on apparel and footwear in 2024, and that figure is projected to reach $375 billion by 2029. The market is not limited to Muslim women; a growing number of non‑Muslim consumers are gravitating toward looser silhouettes, longer hemlines, and more covered styles—a trend accelerated by the pandemic's shift toward comfort and the broader cultural conversation about body autonomy. Major brands have taken notice. Nike, which launched its Pro Hijab in 2017, has expanded its modest activewear line. Lululemon, H&M, Zara, and ASOS have all introduced modest collections. Luxury houses like Dolce & Gabbana and Oscar de la Renta have released abayas and kaftans. And a new generation of modest fashion influencers—women like Dina Tokio, Marwa Atik, and Leena Al Ghouti—have built massive followings by proving that covering up can be just as stylish, creative, and aspirational as showing skin.
Aden was not the sole catalyst for this shift, but she was a powerful accelerant. Her SI Swimsuit moment gave the modest fashion movement a mainstream legitimacy it had previously lacked. It proved that there was an audience—a large, hungry, and increasingly affluent audience—that wanted to see themselves represented. And it forced the fashion industry to confront its own blind spots. "Halima Aden didn't just change the conversation; she forced the industry to have a conversation it had been avoiding for decades," said Shelina Janmohamed, author of Generation M: Young Muslims Changing the World. "She showed that modesty wasn't a niche. It was the future." The economic case is now undeniable. Brands that fail to serve this market are leaving billions on the table. And the ones that have embraced it—from high‑street giants to luxury labels—are reaping the rewards.
"Halima Aden didn't just change the conversation; she forced the industry to have a conversation it had been avoiding for decades. She showed that modesty wasn't a niche. It was the future."
The Dark Side: Burnout, Exploitation, and a Shocking Exit
But the story of Halima Aden is not a simple fairy tale. In November 2020, just 19 months after her triumphant SI Swimsuit moment, Aden shocked the fashion world by announcing her retirement from modeling—at the age of 23. In a series of raw, emotional Instagram Stories and a subsequent interview with the BBC, Aden revealed the toll that the industry had taken on her mental health and her faith. She described being pressured to compromise her hijab, having it styled in ways that revealed her neck or hairline. She recounted being asked to wear a pair of jeans on her head as a makeshift hijab because a stylist hadn't brought the proper headscarf. She talked about the isolation of being the only Muslim model in the room, the constant burden of representation, and the feeling that she was being used as a "token" rather than valued as a full human being. "I lost touch with who I was," she said. "I forgot why I started."
The news was a gut punch to the modest fashion movement and a wake‑up call for an industry that had congratulated itself on its inclusivity while failing to support the very women it was putting on a pedestal. "I did what I came to do, but I lost myself along the way," Aden said. "I'm not closing the door on fashion forever, but I need to take a break and figure out who Halima is without the camera." The industry's response was a mix of sympathy and uncomfortable silence. Many of the brands that had profited from Aden's image issued statements of support, but few acknowledged their own role in the burnout of a young woman who had been carrying the weight of an entire community's expectations since she was a teenager. Aden's story was a stark reminder that diversity is not a box to be checked. It's a commitment to creating environments where people can thrive, not just survive. And the fashion industry, for all its progress, still had a long way to go.
The Comeback: Advocacy, Authorship, and a New Kind of Influence
Aden did not stay away forever. In 2023, she began a gradual return to public life—but on her own terms. She signed a book deal and published a memoir, This Is What I Know About Being True, which detailed her journey from refugee camp to runway and her struggle to reclaim her identity. She launched a podcast, "Halima Unfiltered," where she interviews Muslim women about faith, fashion, and the messy reality of navigating both. She partnered with UNICEF as a Goodwill Ambassador, focusing on refugee children and girls' education—a cause that has been central to her identity since childhood. And in 2025, she returned to modeling, but with a new set of non‑negotiable conditions: a "modesty rider" in her contracts specifying exactly how her hijab must be styled, who can touch it, and what kinds of garments she will and will not wear. She now works only with brands that have demonstrated a genuine commitment to inclusion, not just a desire for a viral moment. "I'm back because I realized that leaving wasn't the answer," she told Vogue in a 2025 cover story. "The answer is staying and demanding better. I'm not just a model anymore. I'm an advocate. I'm a businesswoman. I'm a voice. And I'm not going to be quiet."
Her influence has only grown. In 2026, Aden was named one of Time magazine's 100 Most Influential People, with a tribute written by none other than Iman, the Somali‑American supermodel who paved the way decades earlier. "Halima didn't just open a door," Iman wrote. "She tore it off its hinges and built a new one for the women coming behind her. And she did it while staying true to herself—even when the industry tried to make her into something she wasn't." Aden's journey is a testament to the power of representation—and to the cost of being a pioneer. She has shown that it is possible to be both devout and fashionable, both covered and celebrated. But she has also shown that the fight for true inclusion is far from over. And she's not done fighting.
The Burkini Wars: From French Beaches to Global Symbol
Aden's SI Swimsuit moment also intersected with a far uglier cultural battle: the so‑called "burkini wars." In the summer of 2016, several French towns banned the burkini from public beaches, citing concerns about public order and secularism—France's cherished principle of laïcité. The bans were eventually overturned by France's highest administrative court, but the debate they sparked never truly died. In 2025, the controversy flared again when a group of women in Nice were fined for wearing burkinis on a public beach, reigniting a national conversation about Islam, feminism, and the limits of religious freedom in a secular state. "The burkini has become a symbol of everything that frightens people about Islam," said Rim‑Sarah Alouane, a French legal scholar and religious freedom expert. "It's not about fabric. It's about fear. And until we address that fear, the burkini wars will continue."
Into this fraught landscape, Aden's image—a woman in a burkini, radiating joy and confidence on the pages of an American magazine—landed like a grenade. It was a powerful counter‑narrative to the French bans, a visual argument that covering up was not a sign of oppression but a legitimate expression of identity and faith. Aden never shied away from the controversy. In interviews, she consistently defended the right of women to choose what they wear—whether that's a bikini, a burkini, or anything in between. "I don't want to live in a world where women are told what they can and cannot wear," she said. "That's not freedom. That's control." Her stance resonated far beyond the Muslim community. It tapped into a broader cultural moment—a growing recognition that bodily autonomy means the right to cover up as much as it means the right to strip down. In 2025, when a new wave of burkini bans was proposed in France, Aden's image was widely shared on social media with the caption: "This is what they're afraid of. A happy woman in control of her own body."
The Economic Power of Inclusivity: Why Representation Pays
Let's talk about the bottom line, because sometimes that's what it takes to get the attention of the people who write the checks. The modest fashion market's $311 billion valuation is not a niche; it's a juggernaut. And it's growing faster than the overall apparel market, driven by a young, digitally native, and increasingly affluent Muslim consumer base that is demanding to be seen. Brands that have embraced this reality have been rewarded. In 2025, Nike reported that its modest activewear line, which includes the Pro Hijab and a range of full‑coverage athletic gear, generated over $1 billion in revenue globally. Lululemon's modest collection, launched in 2023, has been one of the company's fastest‑growing segments. And ASOS, which has offered a dedicated modest fashion category since 2020, has seen sales in that category increase by 40% year over year.
But the economic impact goes beyond direct sales. Representation drives brand loyalty, word‑of‑mouth marketing, and cultural relevance. A 2025 survey by the Muslim Consumer Group found that 73% of Muslim consumers are more likely to purchase from a brand that features visibly Muslim models in its advertising, and 68% said they would switch brands to support companies that demonstrate a genuine commitment to inclusion. "This isn't charity. It's capitalism," said Alia Khan, founder of the Islamic Fashion and Design Council. "Brands that ignore the Muslim consumer are leaving money on the table. Halima Aden showed them what they were missing. The smart ones paid attention." Aden herself has become a savvy entrepreneur, leveraging her influence into partnerships and investments. She launched a modest swimwear line, "Halima x Swim," in collaboration with a sustainable swimwear brand, and it sold out within hours. She sits on the board of a venture capital fund focused on Muslim‑founded startups. And she has become a sought‑after speaker on topics ranging from diversity in fashion to the economics of inclusion. The girl from the refugee camp is now a brand, a business, and a force to be reckoned with.
The Next Generation: Who Is Following in Halima's Footsteps?
Aden's legacy is not just in the photos she took or the barriers she broke; it's in the women who have followed her path. Today, the fashion industry is far more diverse than it was in 2019, and while there is still a long way to go, the landscape has been irrevocably changed. Models like Rawdah Mohamed, a Somali‑Norwegian model who wears a hijab and has walked for Valentino and Max Mara; Ikram Abdi Omar, a British‑Somali model who has appeared in campaigns for Burberry and H&M; and Ugbad Abdi, another Somali‑American model who has graced the covers of Vogue and walked for Fendi and Lanvin, are now fixtures on the international fashion circuit. They are not tokens; they are talents. And they are demanding the same respect, the same opportunities, and the same creative control that Aden fought for.
The media landscape has shifted as well. Sports Illustrated Swimsuit, which faced both praise and criticism for Aden's 2019 shoot, has continued to push the boundaries of representation. In 2025, the issue featured its first visibly Muslim plus‑size model, and the editor has publicly credited Aden with opening the door. "Halima taught us that beauty is not one thing," said MJ Day. "It's a million things, and our job is to show as many of them as we can." The ripple effects extend beyond fashion. In film, television, and advertising, Muslim women are increasingly being portrayed not as victims or villains but as complex, fully realized human beings. Shows like Ramy and We Are Lady Parts have brought Muslim stories to mainstream audiences. And a new generation of Muslim creators is building their own platforms, telling their own stories, and refusing to be defined by anyone else.
The Road Ahead: What Does 2030 Look Like for Modest Fashion?
If current trends continue, the fashion landscape of 2030 will look radically different from today—and Aden's 2019 burkini moment will be remembered as a key inflection point. The modest fashion market is projected to continue its rapid growth, driven by demographics, rising incomes, and a cultural shift toward more inclusive definitions of beauty. Major brands will have fully integrated modest options into their core offerings, not as a separate "modest collection" but as a natural part of the product range. The hijab will be as unremarkable on a runway as a pair of jeans. And the debates about burkinis on French beaches will seem like relics of a more fearful, less enlightened era—though, let's be honest, those debates will probably still be raging somewhere, because some people never learn.
But the most important change will be the one that's hardest to measure: the shift in the collective imagination. For generations, the image of beauty that dominated Western media was narrow, exclusive, and overwhelmingly white. That image is now crumbling, replaced by a more expansive, more generous vision that makes room for everyone. Aden did not cause that shift alone, but she was a powerful catalyst. She showed the world that a woman in a hijab could be just as stunning, just as confident, and just as worthy of celebration as anyone else. And she did it while staying true to herself—even when the industry tried to make her into something she wasn't. "I want young girls to see my picture and think, 'If she can do it, I can do it,'" Aden said in 2019. Seven years later, that mission is well underway. The girls who saw her on that beach in Kenya are now young women, and they are stepping into their own power. The revolution that Aden helped spark is no longer a moment. It's a movement. And it's only just beginning.
Key Takeaways: Halima Aden and the Modest Fashion Revolution
- Halima Aden made history in 2019 as the first model to wear a burkini and hijab in the SI Swimsuit issue: The image, shot on a Kenyan beach near the refugee camp where she was born, became a global symbol of inclusive beauty.
- The global modest fashion market is now valued at $311 billion and growing: Muslim consumer spending on apparel is projected to reach $375 billion by 2029, driven by a young, affluent, and digitally native demographic.
- Aden's journey from refugee camp to runway royalty was unprecedented: Born in Kakuma refugee camp, she became the first hijab‑wearing Miss Minnesota USA contestant, signed with IMG Models, and walked for Kanye West before her SI breakthrough.
- She shocked the industry by retiring in 2020 at age 23: Burnout, pressure to compromise her hijab, and the burden of tokenism led to a public reckoning about the fashion industry's failure to support diverse talent.
- Her comeback has been on her own terms: With a memoir, a podcast, a UNICEF ambassadorship, and a "modesty rider" in her contracts, Aden has redefined what it means to be a model and an advocate.
- The "burkini wars" continue to rage in France and beyond: Aden's image has become a counter‑narrative to bans and fines, a visual argument for bodily autonomy and religious freedom.
- Major brands are investing heavily in modest fashion: Nike's modest line generates over $1 billion annually; Lululemon, ASOS, and luxury houses have all launched modest collections.
- A new generation of hijab‑wearing models has followed in Aden's footsteps: Rawdah Mohamed, Ikram Abdi Omar, and Ugbad Abdi are now fixtures on international runways and magazine covers.
- Aden was named one of Time's 100 Most Influential People in 2026: Her legacy is measured not just in magazine covers but in the women who now see themselves reflected in mainstream fashion.
Sources and Further Reading
- Sports Illustrated (2019): Halima Aden Makes History as First Model to Wear Burkini in SI Swimsuit — Original coverage of the groundbreaking shoot.
- DinarStandard (2025): State of the Global Islamic Economy Report 2025/26 — $311 billion modest fashion market, projected to $375 billion by 2029.
- BBC (2020): Halima Aden: Why I quit modelling — Aden's candid interview about burnout, hijab compromises, and leaving the industry.
- Vogue (2025): Halima Aden Is Back—And She's Not Here to Make You Comfortable — Cover story on Aden's return to modeling with a "modesty rider."
- Time (2026): The 100 Most Influential People of 2026: Halima Aden — Tribute by Iman, recognizing Aden's impact on fashion and representation.
- The New York Times (2025): France's Burkini Wars Flare Again in Nice — Renewed controversy over burkini bans on French beaches.
- Islamic Fashion and Design Council: Modest Fashion Market Report 2025 — Consumer survey data: 73% more likely to buy from inclusive brands.
- UNICEF: Halima Aden, Goodwill Ambassador — Aden's advocacy work for refugee children and girls' education.
- Halima Aden (2024): This Is What I Know About Being True — Aden's memoir, detailing her journey from refugee camp to runway.
- Muslim Consumer Group (2025): The Economic Power of Inclusive Representation — Brand loyalty and purchasing behavior among Muslim consumers.
- Nike: Pro Hijab and Modest Activewear — Nike's modest performance line, generating over $1 billion in global revenue.
- Ramy (Hulu): A Muslim‑American Story — Groundbreaking television series portraying Muslim life in America.
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