Marriage and the Silent Wounds Within Homes By Hafsat Ibrahim
Some wounds don’t bleed. They live in silence, hide in shadows, and far too often, grow in places that should feel like home. Domestic violence is a dangerous cancer eating away at the soul of our society. It’s not just about the bruises that fade; it’s about the dignity that never quite returns. In homes meant for laughter, there’s fear. In relationships meant to nurture, there’s pain. This is a tragedy we witness too often, yet speak about too little.
Marriage, when it blossoms with love, patience, and understanding, can be a beautiful journey. But when built on deceit, ego, or control, it becomes a battlefield. Many young people enter marriage without truly knowing themselves, let alone their partners, leading to foundations that crack before the roof is even complete.
There are many reasons marriages descend into violence. Some see the red flags during courtship but believe prayer will erase flaws. Others are caught up in appearances or the pressure to settle down. Family interference can turn a couple into a crowd, while social media fantasies, where filtered online lives are measured against personal realities, can breed inadequacy and resentment.
Emotional disconnect, sexual dissatisfaction, and cultural or spiritual mismatches quietly transform affection into hostility. A wife who prays at midnight becomes “too spiritual.” A husband struggling with anger begins to shout, then hits. It starts small: a harsh word, a slammed door. But soon, it escalates, and the love they once shared becomes a festering wound.
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When you hear of abuse, you often picture fists or black eyes. But abuse wears many masks. Sometimes it’s sharp, cruel, unrelenting words. Sometimes it’s cold, punishing, calculated silence. It can be isolation from friends and family, or money withheld as a weapon. There’s also the pain no one talks about: sexual abuse between spouses, hidden under the guise of duty.
A woman might sit quietly in church, smiling with her children, while slowly dying inside. A man might laugh with friends, but dread going home. Children who grow up in such environments don’t forget; the trauma trails them into adulthood. Some repeat the pattern, while others carry the pain in quiet rebellion. Homes filled with violence birth more than broken marriages—they create broken people.
Yet, even amidst such pain, many stay. Some out of fear, others out of shame, and many because they don’t know where to go. This is precisely why we must speak, and why we must act. Silence only aids the abuser and further wounds the abused.
If you are in an abusive relationship, please know: it is not your fault. You are not alone. There is help. There is hope. Reach out. Speak up. Leave, if you must. You don’t have to wait until you are broken beyond repair.
Marriage isn’t meant to be endured in fear. It’s not a burden you must carry to prove your strength. It’s meant to bring peace, comfort, and joy. When it fails to do so, it’s not a marriage; it’s a prison. And every human being deserves better than that.
Let us build homes where love isn’t laced with pain. Let us raise sons who understand that masculinity is not violence, and daughters who know that silence is not virtue. Let’s remember that the home is the heart of society—and if it beats with fear, the whole nation suffers.
Hafsat Ibrahim writes from PRNigeria Centre, Wuye Abuja
