For generations, countless African women have been taught that becoming a wife is one of life’s greatest achievements. From childhood, many girls are raised to believe that marriage is the ultimate destination, and once they become a “Mrs.,” they must do everything within their power to keep that title. Unfortunately, for many women, this belief has come at an unimaginable cost. They are taught how to become wives but are rarely taught how to recognize abuse, protect themselves, or leave dangerous situations safely.
The fear many African women carry is not simply the fear of an abusive husband; it is the fear of what comes after leaving. Many remain trapped in abusive marriages because of the overwhelming stigma attached to divorce. Society often labels divorced women as failures, women who could not keep a husband, or women who somehow deserved what happened to them. Some are even told that no respectable man will ever marry them again. Rather than receiving support, they are judged, isolated, and blamed. Because of this fear, countless women endure years of suffering simply to avoid being called a divorced woman. For women who have children, the fear becomes even greater.
In many communities, children are viewed as belonging to the husband’s family. A mother may believe that if she leaves, she will lose her children or be forced to leave them behind. Whether through cultural pressure or legal uncertainty, many women feel they have no real choice. They stay, not because they are happy, and often not because they are still in love, but because they feel powerless, defenseless, and trapped. Without financial independence, family support, or confidence in the justice system, many convince themselves that enduring abuse is safer than leaving.
Abuse rarely begins with broken bones. It often begins with words. A husband slowly tears down his wife’s confidence by insulting her intelligence, criticizing her appearance, humiliating her in front of family and friends, and making her feel worthless. Financial abuse follows as he controls every dollar, prevents her from working, or reminds her that everything she enjoys belongs to him. Psychological abuse isolates her from those who love her, making her believe that no one will believe her story and that she deserves the treatment she receives. Eventually, for many women, the violence becomes physical. Slaps become punches. Punches become broken bones. Threats become attempted murder.
Consider the story of Modou and Fatou.
Fatou married Modou, believing she had found a lifelong partner. Together, they built a home and raised six beautiful children over fifteen years of marriage. To the outside world, they appeared to have a stable family. Behind closed doors, however, Fatou lived in constant fear. Modou regularly humiliated her in front of relatives, neighbors, friends, and even their own children. He controlled the family’s finances, reminding her that the house, the money, and everything they owned belonged to him. Whenever he became angry, he shouted, insulted, and physically assaulted her. His explosive temper had become the norm in the household.
Whenever Fatou confided in her mother-in-law, she received no comfort. Instead, she was told, “You should be grateful. Modou is much better than his father ever was. I endured much worse than what you’re experiencing.” Rather than condemning abuse, it was normalized. Pain had become tradition. Fatou remained silent for over ten years. Not because she lacked intelligence. Not because she lacked courage. She remained because she believed she had no choice. She wanted her children to grow up with both parents. She feared society’s judgment. She feared losing her children. She feared disgracing her family.
Everything changed when Modou announced that he intended to marry a second wife after fifteen years of marriage. Unable to afford another home, he declared that the family house belonged to him and that his new wife would move into it. He coldly told Fatou that if she did not like his decision, she was free to leave. Fatou calmly explained that bringing another woman into their family home would emotionally destroy their children and completely disrupt the home they had spent years building together.
Her response enraged Modou.
He attacked her with unimaginable violence. He beat Fatou until her jaw was broken, her arm fractured, and both of her eyes were swollen shut. Blood poured from her mouth, nose, and face. Neighbors rushed over after hearing the screams and eventually managed to stop the attack, but it was already too late. Fatou lay unconscious on the floor. Even then, instead of helping her, some family members blamed her. Her mother-in-law repeatedly insisted that Modou had every right to marry up to four wives and accused Fatou of being disrespectful toward her husband. Rather than calling for medical help, several relatives stood watching while Fatou bled before their eyes.
Only Fatou’s oldest daughter quietly slipped away and called the police. That brave decision saved her mother’s life. Fatou was rushed to the hospital, where doctors discovered multiple fractures and severe internal injuries. She remained in a coma for several days.
As news of the assault spread throughout the town, people were shocked to learn that this was not the first beating. Fatou revealed that she had endured more than a decade of repeated physical, emotional, verbal, psychological, and financial abuse. Each time Modou failed to get his way, violence followed. The community finally listened. Authorities arrested Modou, and he was later sentenced to ten years in prison for the assault. For the first time in many years, Fatou spoke without fear. Women throughout the community rallied around her, sharing their own stories of abuse that had remained hidden for years. Her daughter had not only saved her mother’s life; she had permitted other women to break their silence.
Although Modou alone was responsible for his violent actions, healing was needed for everyone involved. Fatou required years of physical recovery and trauma counseling to rebuild the life that violence had stolen from her. Modou needed accountability alongside intensive psychological treatment to address his uncontrolled anger, violent behavior, and unhealthy beliefs about power and control. His mother also needed healing because years of surviving abuse herself had convinced her that violence was simply part of marriage. Instead of protecting another woman, she unknowingly protected the cycle that had once harmed her. This is how generational trauma continues until someone dares to say, “Enough.”
As I wrote in The Wounded Warrior Energy, “The greatest prison is not the one built with walls, but the one built with fear. Healing begins the moment we stop normalizing what should have never been acceptable.”
The moral of this story is simple. We must normalize leaving abusive marriages instead of normalizing enduring abuse. A divorced woman is not a failed woman. A woman who chooses life over violence has not destroyed her family; she has protected it. Financial independence is not about competing with men. It is about ensuring that no woman feels forced to remain in a dangerous home because she cannot feed herself or her children. Every woman should know the warning signs of abuse, recognize patterns before they escalate, understand her country’s laws regarding domestic violence and child protection, and speak to trusted family members, professionals, or the authorities before it is too late. Silence protects abusers, not families. Children who grow up witnessing violence are often deeply affected. Some develop anxiety, depression, or trauma, while others may eventually repeat the same behaviors they observed at home. Protecting children sometimes means removing them from violent environments, even when that decision is painful.
According to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and UN Women, approximately 51,100 women and girls worldwide were intentionally killed by intimate partners or family members in 2023, with Africa recording the highest regional rate of these killings (UNODC & UN Women, 2024). These statistics remind us that domestic violence is not a private family matter it is a public health and human rights crisis.
To every African woman reading this: your life matters more than your marital status. Your children deserve a home filled with peace rather than fear. Never allow society’s opinion to become the reason you remain where your life is at risk. Learn your rights. Build financial independence. Speak up. Ask for help. Heal. And remember that choosing yourself is never selfish when your life and your children’s lives depend on it.
By:
Dr. Mimi Fatou Ceesay,
Journalist / Psychologist
Marriage and Family Therapist.
References:
United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime. (2024). Femicides in 2023: Global estimates of intimate partner/family member femicides.
UN Women. (2024). Femicides in 2023: Global estimates of intimate partner/family member femicides.
