Chapter 6
Part 6
The woman was patient with her partner’s past, patient with herself as she continued to heal, and patient as she kept trying to hold her household together without hurting anyone.
As Allah says in the Qur’an, Surah Al-Anfal, verse 46: So be patient, be patient, and remain vigilant.
The words carried an unspoken message: Never underestimate a wife who chooses to forgive. Behind her smile and silence is a wound she makes peace with every day, while upholding the patience Allah has honored.
Hana let out a heavy breath, feeling guilty for telling Pak Harun so much about Bunda. She should have kept it to herself instead of airing it all. But she had also seen how sincere Pak Harun was about helping Bunda. How could he help if he didn’t know her or understand the root of her problems? Hana muttered to herself.
“Please promise Hana, okay, Pak? Pretend you still don’t know anything about Bunda’s secret,” Hana pleaded earnestly.
“Insya Allah. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to spread something its owner has deliberately kept tightly concealed,” Pak Harun replied firmly.
Hana breathed a sigh of relief. Inside, Humaira was teaching arithmetic to the children, almost all of whom had never had the chance to receive a formal education.
“Bunda Humaira is wounded by religion right now,” Pak Harun said.
“Wounded by religion? But Bunda doesn’t hate Allah. What do you mean, Pak?”
“When someone says they’ve been wounded by religion, people often misunderstand it immediately. Many assume it means hating religion, rejecting God, or wanting to live without faith. But often, the opposite is true. A woman is wounded because she cares. Because she wants to obey. Because she wants to be close,” Pak Harun explained.
Hana still didn’t fully understand, her eyebrows drawing together as she thought hard.
“What wounds her isn’t Allah. More often, it’s the way religion is conveyed, practiced, or used as a tool by human beings,” Pak Harun continued.
“The wound she carries is rarely discussed in its entirety. It’s often cut down into safe little statements: ‘Maybe I’m just not strong enough,’ ‘Maybe I’m being too sensitive,’ or ‘Religion is right; it’s only people who are wrong.’ Those statements aren’t entirely false, but they’re often used to silence something that should have been heard first.”
“Is that what happened to Bunda too?” Hana asked.
“Maybe… maybe not. Many women come to religion in a fragile state. Exhausted. Searching for something to hold on to. Wanting to feel safe. But what they encounter instead is a judgmental tone. Sincere questions are met with suspicion. Human mistakes are treated as though they’re unforgivable sins with no way home. Their faith is judged by their outward appearance, not by the inner struggle they’re going through. Slowly, they learn to adapt by hiding their feelings and suppressing their courage—not for Allah’s sake, but simply so they’ll appear ‘good’ in the eyes of others.”
Pak Harun paused, watching Hana listen with such enthusiasm. This teenager had also grown out of pain, which was why her way of thinking was often more mature than her years.
“A woman wounded by religion often holds back her questions because she’s afraid of being labeled lacking in faith. She hides her exhaustion because she’s afraid of being considered weak. She swallows her pain because she worries she’ll no longer look pious. The wound isn’t always dramatic. Often it’s quiet, but real. And over time, it affects the way a woman prays, worships, and even sees herself.”
“Do women like that stop praying?” Hana asked.
“No. They keep praying, but prayer starts to feel heavy, worship feels stiff, and their relationship with Allah feels tense. Not because Allah has moved away, but because their hearts have been hurt by fear too many times. Fear of being wrong, fear of being judged, fear of not being good enough.”