Karma is not a word we use in Islam. It is more commonly associated with Hinduism and Buddhism, referring to a force believed to influence the events and consequences in a person’s life. It is often meant to describe the negative outcomes of one’s actions and choices.
I could have avoided using it altogether, but to truly emphasize what I feel and how deeply this entire situation has affected me, I chose to use it anyway.
Eight years ago, I agreed to become the second wife of a man I genuinely believed had a deep regard for religion. I thought he was someone who truly practiced Islam, not merely someone who knew about it intellectually.
But I suppose there is no real way of knowing beforehand, especially as a revert. In the beginning, people often show you only what is appealing and beautiful.
Even though I was fully aware that I was entering a polygamous marriage, I held onto the hope that it would be rooted more in religion than in culture. I prayed for it to resemble what Islam actually teaches: fairness, justice, mercy, and responsibility.
But my expectations began to crumble the moment we arrived in his home country. That was when he started to change. The man I had married not long before suddenly became distant, tense, and unfamiliar. As he no longer knew how to handle the situation he himself had created.
At the time, I tried to excuse it. I thought perhaps he was overwhelmed because being back in his country meant finally informing his family about his second marriage. That alone must have terrified him.
And so it began.
He informed his family, including his first wife, and from that point onward, everything I thought I understood about religion became clouded with questions. I kept reminding myself that culture is not Islam, and tradition is not religion. But what I witnessed made me realize that even people born into the religion can sometimes confuse cultural practices and personal desires with what Islam truly teaches. And when that happens, many refuse to see the difference.
The first and second year of marriage passed quickly, but the chaos never truly settled. Slowly, it became clear to me that fairness would never have a place in this marriage. So, I stopped fighting for it. I stopped questioning things because I was exhausted from trying to make sense of what could never be justified to begin with. What hurt even more was the complete lack of accountability.
Never once did he sincerely apologize for the pain, confusion, neglect, or emotional damage he caused. In his mind, he had done nothing wrong. On rare occasions he seemed aware that his actions were hurtful or unjust. But he would simply dismiss it by saying that it was “between him and Allah.” And the people harmed by those actions; did not they have the right to feel wounded?
But Islam does not teach us to ignore the rights of people while hiding behind religion. The Prophet ﷺ said:
“The bankrupt person from my nation is the one who will come on the Day of Resurrection with prayer, fasting, and charity, but he insulted this one, slandered that one, consumed the wealth of this one, shed the blood of that one, and struck this one. So his good deeds will be taken and given to them…” —
I simply focused on surviving.
Then, by Allah’s mercy, I was blessed with a child.
I thought perhaps becoming a father would change him. I hoped that responsibility, compassion, and emotional presence would finally emerge in him. But even after our child was born, nothing truly changed. The neglect remained. The emotional distance remained.
I continued to feel alone in a marriage that only existed outwardly. To him, financial provision seemed to be the only duty of a husband. As long as bills were paid and necessities were provided, he believed he had fulfilled his role in Islam. But marriage in Islam was never meant to be reduced to financial support alone.
Allah says in the Qur’an:
“And among His signs is that He created for you spouses from among yourselves so that you may find tranquility in them; and He placed between you affection and mercy.” — Surah Ar-Rum 30:21
Islam speaks about mercy, affection, companionship, gentleness, emotional care, and justice. The Prophet ﷺ said:
“The best of you are those who are best to their wives.” —And he ﷺ also said:“Fear Allah concerning women.”
Over time, I stopped communicating.
Not out of hatred or spite, but to protect my own sanity and peace. Every attempt to express myself felt dismissed, unheard, or emotionally draining. Distancing myself became the only way I knew how to preserve what was left of me emotionally and mentally. I slowly detached myself until I no longer felt connected to that person at all.
And the truth is, I cannot make a rash decision and simply leave the marriage, no matter how emotionally exhausted I am. There is a child involved who means everything to me.
I have already been threatened with losing custody. My child could easily be used against me if I tried to leave. That fear alone has kept me trapped in silence more times than I can even explain.
People often speak about leaving difficult marriages as though it is always simple and entirely within a woman’s control. But it is not always that easy. Sometimes the fear of losing your child becomes heavier than your own suffering. So I endure quietly, trying to protect my peace where I can, while asking Allah to guide me toward a way out that will not cost me my child.
Allah says:
And whoever puts their trust in Allah, then He alone is sufficient for them.” — Surah At-Talaq 65:3
And truly, at this point, tawakkul is all I have left to hold onto. Now, I keep my distance completely. I stay only for the sake of my child while asking Allah, every single day, to guide me toward what is best.
My trust is in His vast mercy.
I pray that He grants me peace, and a way forward that is best for both me and my child. Some hardships are invisible to people, but never to Allah.
“Indeed, Allah is with the patient.” — Surah Al-Baqarah 2:153
And sometimes, deep down, I cannot help but wonder if this is my own form of punishment for agreeing to become the second wife in the first place. Perhaps this is why the word “karma” keeps lingering in my mind. I know it does not belong to our religion, but still.
Maybe it is simply guilt, regret, grief, or the weight of consequences I never fully understood at the time. But Allah is the Most Merciful, and His mercy is greater than all of our mistakes.
May Allah forgive me for my shortcomings, forgive us all for the harm we knowingly or unknowingly cause others. Ameen