Domestic abuse is often spoken about quietly, and when it enters public conversation, the image that usually appears is that of a woman as the victim. While it is essential to continue advocating for women’s safety and dignity, this dominant narrative has left another group largely invisible: men who experience domestic abuse.
In my professional work, I have worked with male clients who carry deep emotional wounds caused by domestic abuse. Their stories rarely involve visible bruises. Instead, they speak of constant criticism, manipulation, fear, control, and emotional exhaustion. These men do not walk into sessions asking for sympathy. They come confused, ashamed, and questioning their own reality.
Research tells us that this silence is not rare. Studies from countries with strong reporting systems show that around one in six to one in five men experience domestic abuse at some point in their lives, and men make up approximately 40% of all domestic abuse victims. Yet men are far less likely to disclose or seek support. Many never tell anyone at all.
Culture plays a powerful role in this silence. Across many societies—including ours—men are taught that strength means endurance, patience, and emotional restraint. Vulnerability is often misunderstood as weakness. When abuse happens, men minimise it. They rationalise it. They endure it quietly, believing it is their responsibility to "handle it".
From an Islamic perspective, this silence is deeply troubling. Islam does not equate strength with suffering in silence. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ was emotionally aware, compassionate, and expressive. He spoke openly about pain, sought counsel, and condemned oppression in all forms. In Islam, zulm (oppression) is forbidden—regardless of who commits it or who experiences it. The Qur’an reminds us:“Allah does not love oppression.” (Qur’an 3:57)
Abuse—whether emotional, psychological, physical, or financial—is a form of oppression. It violates the Islamic principles of rahmah (mercy), ‘adl (justice), and ihsan (excellence in conduct) within relationships. Marriage and family life in Islam are meant to be spaces of tranquility (sakinah), not fear or humiliation.
Many male survivors struggle not only with emotional pain but also with spiritual confusion. They ask themselves: Is patience required here? Is speaking up wrong? Am I failing as a man or as a believer? Islam is clear on this matter—patience does not mean tolerating harm, and seeking help is not a lack of faith. The Prophet ﷺ said:“There should be neither harming nor reciprocating harm.” (Ibn Majah)
Domestic abuse against men often takes subtle forms: constant criticism, emotional manipulation, threats, isolation, or financial control. Over time, these experiences erode confidence and identity. Research shows that male victims frequently experience depression, anxiety, chronic stress, and emotional withdrawal—yet they are significantly less likely than women to access formal support services. This is why male abuse is often described as silent abuse. Not because it hurts less, but because it is spoken about less.
As a community, we must expand our understanding. Supporting women and acknowledging male victims are not opposing causes. Justice in Islam is not selective. Compassion is not gendered. When we deny men the language to describe abuse or the safety to seek help, we unintentionally protect the very harm we claim to oppose.
Healing begins when a man realizes that what he experienced was not weakness, failure, or a lack of faith. It was harmful, and harm is never acceptable. Breaking this silence requires courage—from survivors, professionals, families, and faith communities. It requires creating spaces where men can speak without fear of being mocked, dismissed, or spiritually shamed. It requires us to listen with empathy and to uphold the Islamic values of dignity, mercy, and justice for all.
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