Ramadan is meant to be a month of restraint. Of discipline. Of heightened spirituality. But for many women, and men, it is also a month of escalation.
In a necessary conversation, Kaamila Knight-Morake, Social Auxiliary Worker at Islamic Careline, dismantles the dangerous myth that sacred months pause domestic violence. They do not. In some cases, the pressure of fasting, financial strain, and emotional strain intensify what already exists beneath the surface.
“Domestic violence happens within a domestic or intimate relationship,” she explains. “It can occur between a husband and wife, ex-partners, family members… and it includes physical, financial, emotional, sexual and psychological abuse.”
It isn’t just broken bones, it’s control, fear and erosion.
Violence does not take a spiritual break. “It is very sad,” she says, “during a month where we should be fasting… we see that men and women are losing their temper. Mostly men. It’s the smallest things that trigger them.”
Ramadan does not automatically soften a violent heart. When someone already struggles to regulate their emotions, hunger and stress can intensify volatility instead of reducing it.
Arguments escalate. Tension builds. Abuse continues. Spiritual practice without emotional accountability does not stop violence.
SMread: Finding contentment through giving
What abuse actually looks like
Domestic violence is often misunderstood because people expect visible injury. But the damage isn’t always see-through.
It looks like a partner who insists on knowing where you are at all times. It looks like being told who you can and cannot visit. It looks like being cut off from friends and family. It looks like your phone being checked, your messages monitored, your social media scrutinised. It looks like financial restriction or shared money disappearing without consent.
Jealousy is reframed as protection. Possessiveness is reframed as care. Control is reframed as leadership. And over time, autonomy shrinks.
In some cases involving reverts, vulnerability becomes a point of exploitation. Kaamila is careful to clarify that reverting to Islam does not mean entering an abusive marriage. But where someone lacks support systems, a manipulative partner may take advantage.
Abuse is not always visible. But it is always deliberate.
Why so many stay
The question people ask too easily is: Why doesn’t she leave?
Victims fear retaliation. They hope the abuser will change. They worry about how they will survive financially. They stay for their children. They develop trauma bonds, powerful emotional attachments formed through cycles of harm and reconciliation.
There are a plethora of reasons why victims cannot leave.
“There’s nothing wrong with having hope,” Kaamila says. “But hope is not the problem. The problem is that this person is not changing.” Hope without evidence becomes captivity.
Children can complicate situations. Many mothers remain because they do not know how they will provide for themselves. Yet children who witness violence often internalise it. “This becomes a vicious cycle,” she explains. “Children witness it. Later, they repeat it.”
SMread: Fasting support found in nature
The language of blame
“She made me do it.”
“She provoked me.”
“She deserved it.”
Kaamila rejects this entirely.
“There is no excuse on earth for a man or a woman to hit their partner. There is no excuse on earth.” Nothing should justify violence.
When families minimise abuse or urge silence to preserve reputation, they enable it. When families say clearly, “You are wrong,” that’s when intervention actually begins.
Community response determines whether abuse continues unchecked.
SMread: Al-Aqsa restrictions deepen Palestinian exclusion in Jerusalem
Can change happen?
Yes. But only with responsibility. Therapy provides tools for emotional regulation. It teaches alternative communication. It addresses past trauma that often shapes present behaviour.
“We help our clients to self-regulate,” she explains. “We help them find alternative ways to communicate. It doesn’t always have to be through violence.”
A genuine commitment to therapy is one of the clearest indicators that change may be possible. But willingness must be consistent.
For victims, Kaamila offers practical guidance. Open cases. Seek protection orders. Document incidents. Educate yourself about safe exit strategies.
“Leaving is not as easy as saying you should just leave. There’s more to it,” she acknowledges. “But it is very important that you do leave if you are in a domestic and abusive relationship.”
Domestic violence is not a private marital disagreement. It is not a misunderstanding. It is not a religious test of endurance. It is a failure of emotional regulation, accountability, and moral responsibility.
Ramadan calls for discipline of the self. That discipline must include anger. It must include power. It must include how one treats the person closest to them behind closed doors.
SMread: South African men duped into Putin’s war are homebound
Faith and violence cannot coexist
And as Kaamila Knight-Morake makes clear, there is no sacred month that justifies harm. There is no circumstance that permits abuse. Awareness is not enough. Accountability is the work.
Image via Public Health Post.
