- The article pays homage to the resilience of widows and single mothers who raise their children alone, either due to loss or abandonment.
- It urges fatherless Muslims to see their potential, drawing inspiration from revered figures in Islamic history.
I want to preface this discussion by clarifying that when I refer to single mothers, I do not mean those who weaponise their children to punish ex-husbands—a growing epidemic, particularly affecting Muslim men in courts today, where fabricated allegations lead to serious injustices. According to Fathers 4 Justice, nearly four million children in the UK are fatherless, and 200 more lose contact with their fathers every day in secret courts.
I refer in this article to those single mothers who are widowed, those who were once entrenched in fear of how they might raise their children single handedly— but made it— and made it well (by the will of Allah) after they trusted in His plan. I refer to those who Allah tested with catastrophic pain, followed by emotional paralysis but continued to smile when looking at their children, reassuring them that everything would be alright— those who did not remarry.
We shall also be focusing on single mothers whose circumstances were shaped not by death but by abandonment, whose ex-husbands—wasteman, as we say in London—suffer from serious spiritual diseases of the heart. They committed a grave crime: abandoning their own flesh and blood—becoming dads and not fathers, negating their moral, financial and spiritual responsibilities. This particular type of a man is more commonly observed among first-generation migrants who arrived in the UK in the 70s and 80s as opposed to in today’s climate, as the data suggests.
Right, now that we’ve cleared all that up and I can breathe, let’s dig in.
Marriage is a fundamental institution in Islam, essential to the strength and stability of society. Children raised in single-parent households face significant challenges (which we shall explore further in the latter portion of this article). Culturally, women who become single mothers through no fault of their own are often pitied. However, there is something incredibly remarkable and special about those who pass the test with grace, raising well-rounded men and women who contribute abundantly to the cause of Islam.
Let’s pause and reflect on the single mothers in Islamic history who raised extraordinary men, whose legacies continue to inspire and guide us today.
Powerful single mothers in Islamic History whose sons we revere today
Maryam bint Imran (AS), the mother of prophet Esa (AS)
Maryam bint Imran (AS) the mother of Prophet Esa (AS)’s legacy urges us to place our trust in Allah’s infinite wisdom, even during life’s harshest and most confusing calamities. Our mother is the epitome of virtue and strength, and the only woman in the Qur’an to have a chapter named in her honour (Surat ul-Maryam, Chapter 19). Her life embodies unwavering faith and complete reliance on Allah (swt). Despite the profound challenges she faced as a single mother following the miraculous birth of Esa (AS), her steadfast trust in Allah remains a timeless example of Tawakkul. From her early years of worship in Bayt al-Maqdis to the miraculous conception of her son, Maryam (AS)’s unshakable faith guided her through every trial. Her faith empowered her to nurture and raise Esa (AS) with love and wisdom.
Imam al-Bukhari’s mother
Imam Muhammad al-Bukhari, one of the greatest muhaddiths in Islam, was born in Uzbekistan in 810 CE. He compiled Sahih al-Bukhari, a pivotal book used to analyse the actions and sayings of Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w). While the name of his mother is not definitively known, it is believed to be either Sahra or Suhra. Regardless, the mala’ika undoubtedly spoke her name countless times, praising her noble actions.
Imam al-Bukhari’s father passed away when he was young, and he was raised by his mother. At the age of 12, he became blind, and despite numerous medical efforts, his sight could not be restored. His mother, a woman of remarkable piety, continuously prayed to Allah for the restoration of his eyesight.
Allah answered her prayers. One night, in a dream, she was visited by Prophet Ibrahim (s.a.w), who told her, “Allah has restored the sight of your son because of your sincere supplications.” The following morning, Imam al-Bukhari’s sight was fully restored at the age of 16. Remarkably, during the four years he was blind, he memorised 500,000 hadiths, with his mother reading them to him until they were etched in his memory.
Imam al-Shafi’i’s mother
Imam Shafi’i’s mother was pregnant when her husband passed away in Gaza. Originally from Makkah, they were tradesmen who preferred living in Palestine. When her savings were exhausted, she returned to Makkah with her two-year-old son, hoping to preserve both his language and faith. She once dreamt that Jupiter descended to Egypt, a vision interpreted to mean that her son’s knowledge would one day illuminate the world. To ensure his linguistic and spiritual development, his mother sent him to the desert tribe of Bani Huzayl until the age of seventeen, where he mastered the Arabic language, learned numerous poetry verses, and became skilled in archery. Recognising his exceptional intellect, a scholar advised him to study fiqh with Imam Malik in Madinah, where his eloquence quickly impressed those around him. Living humbly and dedicated to knowledge, Imam Shafi’i served Imam Malik for five years. At twenty-nine, he returned to Makkah to teach, where his arrival was marked by an outpouring of gifts, including gold, camels, and servants. However, Imam Shafi’i distributed his wealth among the people until he was left with only a few gold coins and a female servant. When he reached his mother’s tent, she asked, “What is this you have brought?” Imam Shafi’i gave the gold coins to another woman, and his mother, pleased, remarked, “I sent you to gather knowledge, not wealth.” Imam Shafi’i’s reputation grew, and he became one of the four great imams of fiqh, with his teachings continuing to benefit Muslims worldwide.
Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal’s mother
Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal was raised by a single mother after his father’s death. From a young age, Imam Hanbal was known and loved for his exemplary manners, which his mother instilled in him. She emphasised the importance of good etiquette before seeking knowledge.
For those navigating life without a father in today’s society
The timbre of the conversation takes a different turn when we look at the impact of absent fathers as a collective in society today. Sadly, when the father is missing in a household, particularly by neglect—but also due to vengeful ex-wives— the results aren’t always so uplifting—sometimes, they can be devastating.
Mens’ activist and psychologist Warren Farrell, who authored the very well-known book ‘The myth of male power’, concludes, “Dad-deprived boys are less likely to display empathy, are less assertive, are depressed, have nightmares, talk back and are disobedient. These boys will also be more likely to have low self-esteem, fewer friends, and are likely to do worse in every single academic area, especially reading & writing, and maths & science’. “Prisons are centres for dad-deprived boys”, he continues. “There has been a 700 per cent increase in incarceration in the USA since the 1970s – in the UK it has more than doubled”.
Britain’s National Police Chief’s Council Serious Violence Co-ordinator Jackie Sebire stated in 2020, “Knife crime is being driven by absent fathers”; young men not having good role models…young men are not afraid to go to prison.” Furthermore, the economic cost of the family breakdown in 2016 was £48bn or £1,820 for every taxpayer. In 2010, the costs to society as a whole, through truancy, anti-social behaviour, teenage crime, addiction, lost productivity was £100bn. In 2011, 62% of families in Camden, London, had no father, and a further 236 areas across England and Wales had 50% of households consisting of families where there was no dad present.
Moreover, the following statistics, published by America First Policy Institute paint a grim picture: In the USA: 63% of youth suicides are from fatherless homes, 90% of all homeless and runaway children are from fatherless homes, 80% of rapists come from fatherless homes, fatherless children are six times more likely to live in poverty & commit criminal acts than children raised in dual-parent households, 85% of children with behavioural disorders have been raised in fatherless homes—20 times the national percentage in America. Globally, eight out of every ten lone-parent households are headed by women.
Okay, so let’s park that there for a second.
I would like to bring our focus back to the fact that we are Muslims and are not defined by what is happening around us in society today. And that you as a fatherless individual do not have to fall into any of these statistics. We are after all, responsible for our own actions in Islam. You could be like many of the aforementioned giants of Islam who were hungry to expand their knowledge for the sake of Allah and excelled in their own respected fields, brilliantly serving humanity and the ummah.
Consider, for example, the most influential brothers leading the dawah today—men who were raised by single mothers, yet still rose to the frontlines with strength, purpose, and a deep sense of responsibility. Their stories are a testament to what’s possible, no matter the odds. However, the greatest inspiration you can take is from the greatest orphan and the greatest man who ever lived— Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w).
“We need to start behaving like we believe. It only takes a small army”
What does this have to do with orphans or fatherless children I hear you say, bear with me; I’ll get to it.
To be part of ‘the small army,’ we must entirely abandon a victimhood mentality and stop blaming external factors for our own outcomes. We must immerse our souls in loving Allah and have lofty goals because we understand the true magnitude of who Allah swt is. Take whatever maybe missing inside you— the pain or the abandonment (in those cases of neglect), and use it for a force of good.
I recently came across a dawah clip in which one of our brothers said, “If she ain’t got a good relationship with her father than best believe she’s gonna be a lousy wife to her husband.” Upon hearing this, I thought; What about those sisters whose fathers have abandoned them and have no interest in maintaining a relationship?
Or the cases of those fathers who have the case of the aforementioned wasteman syndrome? I also heard another da’ee (who’s work I ordinary respect greatly) mock a particular group of women, assuming that they turned out “the way they did” because they were likely to be fatherless— using the term as a slur and criminalising them— as if it were their fault (if indeed they were fatherless). Surely, this is the antithesis of spirituality. Furthermore, what about those individuals whose fathers were returned to Allah at a young age? There is a clear display of emotional immaturity when conflating Islamic principles with social norms and placing cultural garments on people. In my humble opinion, this is not what faith, tawakkul, or spirituality truly embody. In fact, it reflects a lack of compassion and a misunderstanding of who Allah is.
Furthermore, the utterance of such despondent words could lead someone to believe they have no chance in life, fostering a cycle of self-deprecating depression. Moreover, the soul’s Musk lies in your relationship with Allah, not in society’s perceptions or expectations of you.
If you come from a Muslim fatherless household, yes the odds are stacked against you, the list is endless but there is something special about you, you have Allah and Islam in your heart. Furthermore, orphans hold a special status in Islam— a particularly special status.
There are billions of Muslims in this world but as we know, it only takes a small army to be among the victorious. You could be a part of that army, no matter your background (if Allah wills). Moreover, true transformation within our ummah will only take place when we cease to define ourselves by society’s perceptions and stop viewing our realities through the lens of others’.
