Time to read: 13 minutes(s)

“I looked at the seal, standing in the corridor of the registry office, and I felt better. I told myself: I’m not a jerk (translated from Ingush and Chechen means "divorcee""It's not about a relationship, but about a person who has returned to normal life," says 29-year-old Amina, a beauty specialist from Nazran. This moment became a symbol of liberation from an unhappy relationship for her.

In the Muslim republics of the North Caucasus, religious forms of marriage and divorce—nikah and talaq—are prioritized. For many, the official stamp in their passport confirming a civil divorce remains a mere formality: "We believe that the most important thing is a Sharia-compliant divorce, and the civil registry office comes second. But it was this stamp in my passport that weighed heavily on me. Today I feel free. I wrote so in my stories," says Amina.
Just a few years ago, such an admission on social media could have resulted in public condemnation. Divorce was perceived as a failure and a "disgrace to the whole family," especially if the woman was the one initiating it.

Now the situation is gradually changing. According to Amina, the reaction from her followers was mostly supportive: "They wrote: sabr, earnings, and happiness—that is, patience, financial independence, and joy. Only one stern woman sent a reproachful smiley face."

She can't completely avoid the pressure: "Sometimes I get comments like, 'Nobody will hire someone like that,' but I don't care. The main thing is that I'm free," she says.

Statistics confirm the trend: in February 2025, there were 965 divorces for every 312 marriages in Chechnya—a threefold increase over divorces, a record for the republic. In Ingushetia, the situation is calmer, but the trend is the same: 270 divorces versus 143 marriages.

"I Thought There Was No Turning Back": Amina's Story

Amina married at twenty—her husband was 23 at the time. At first, everything went well: her young husband ran a successful small business, and the family was peaceful. However, gradually, he began frequently staying late and returning home in an odd mood. He answered her questions evasively: "He was with friends."

Financial difficulties began, and her husband became increasingly irritable, flaring up, hitting her, and then begging for forgiveness. "He became a different person," Amina recalls.

One day, a friend told Amina's sister that she'd seen her husband at the pharmacy, buying narcotic pills. "We live in a small town, everyone knows everyone. My sister told me right away," Amina explains.

Her husband initially denied the accusations, but later confessed. Then Amina persuaded him to check into a rehabilitation center. She didn't tell any of her relatives, keeping it a secret to avoid "shame."

She comes from a traditional family, where her father and brothers adhere strictly to religious beliefs. In their view, if a woman marries, she must "cling to her place with all her might." The family was opposed to the marriage from the very beginning—not only because of the man's character, but also because he had once "abducted" Amina—taken her away without her parents' consent. This nearly extinct tradition still exists in some regions of the Caucasus, but today it is more often consensual.

After completing a rehabilitation course, Amina became pregnant. This was long-awaited news for her—it seemed her life had finally returned to normal. But the joy was short-lived: three months later, her husband's behavior changed again. He began disappearing, returning angry, and raising his hand again.

"One day he came home late. I got angry, and he started hitting me with whatever he could get his hands on. I fell. I started bleeding that night, and I lost the baby," she says.

This was a turning point. When the father learned of what had happened and of his son-in-law's drug addiction, he intervened for the first time, ordering his sons to take their daughter home.

"I didn't expect my dad to do this. My whole life, I was sure he wouldn't take me back. I think ten years ago that would have been the case. But now divorces have become so common that they've become almost the norm," says Amina.

"The Illusion of Calm": Madina's Story

Madina was 22 when she married Magomed, a quiet, polite man unlike her hot-tempered father. "I thought he respected boundaries," she recalls. "A calm man who doesn't yell or push—isn't that what a girl raised in a tense family dreams of?"
For the first two years, everything went well. Madina completed her studies part-time, and Magomed worked. But soon, the company where he worked closed. He stayed home, lying on the couch all day scrolling social media, Madina recalls. He began to resent any attempts she made to express his opinion, demanding complete closure. His lack of self-confidence grew into suspicion and jealousy.

This continued for several years. Children were born. Magomed remained unemployed, and Madina took two jobs to support the family: two children, her husband, and her mother-in-law, who lived separately but visited them for long periods.

Eight months into her third pregnancy, a turning point occurred. That evening, Madina called her husband too loudly for dinner. His mother-in-law gave him a disapproving look—that was enough. Infuriated, Magomed slammed his wife's forehead into the table, then hit her on the head several times before leaving to "cool down" with his friends.

"I stood in the hallway, a thin stream of blood trickling down my lip, my hands gray-blue from bruises. And in that moment, I realized: there is no such thing as a 'beautiful family'—it's an illusion."

From that day on, she began saving for freedom. She launched an SMM course on Instagram and took on another part-time job. Two feelings warred within her: the desire for freedom and pity for her husband. To make up her mind, she went to a psychologist to learn how to pronounce the dreaded word "divorce."

At the same time, she was also seeking religious support. The imam's answer was discouraging: "If the husband is not depraved, impotent, or starving, there are few grounds for divorce." He dismissed the beatings as a "domestic dispute."

Everything came to a sudden end. Magomed left for another city—ostensibly to earn money—and disappeared for almost two years. He didn't call or help. Madina moved away and continued working. One day, plucking up her courage, she called and said: if he didn't grant her a divorce, she would get one herself, through an imam.

"I was bluffing. There was no support. But he agreed," she says.

Her parents were also supportive. "They thought we were doing well. They scolded me not for the divorce, but for keeping quiet for so many years," she says.

"Three-Time Divorce": How Zarema Escaped the Cycle of Abuse

Zarema from Malgobek recalls that their marriage was "rocky" from the very beginning. Her husband was cold and irritable, would throw a mug at her while drinking tea, throw things out of the closet, and kick her out of the house. They had already separated once, but she came back "for the sake of the children."

After another argument, he announced he was getting a divorce. Zarema went back to her parents' home—the children weren't returned to her. She went to the local imam, who said that according to Islamic law, children under seven should stay with their mother, and the father is obligated to provide them with housing and financial support. But her ex-husband refused to comply. He said she would see the children if she returned to him again.

Zarema then appealed to the Sharia court. Its ruling was advisory, but for many in the region, it carried weight. The court upheld her decision. The secular court also made the same ruling. But her husband ignored the courts' rulings.

"I missed my children terribly. And then one day my youngest daughter called me from my son's phone; she was only four years old. She was crying and saying she missed me." That was the last straw: Zarema returned.

But soon the conflict flared up again. And in the midst of it, her husband shouted a third "talaq." According to Sharia law, this means the final dissolution of the marriage. After this, Zarema returned to her parents.

"I felt really relieved, but at the same time, I was scared about the children. He was sorry, but I knew he wouldn't have any legal way to persuade me to come back or use the children as leverage again."

"Everything is strict in Sharia": a theologian's opinion

A local theologian, who wished to remain anonymous, explained to NeMoskva: “Although Islam considers divorce extremely undesirable, it takes effect even without witnesses—a verbal statement from the husband is sufficient.”

According to him, the divorce formula—talaq—can be pronounced three times. The first and second times offer a chance for reconciliation: there is a so-called "iddah" period—a waiting period during which the husband can return his wife. But after the third talaq, return becomes impossible: the woman is considered permanently divorced.

"This rule is primarily aimed at protecting women," he says. "She shouldn't become hostage to repeated divorces and reconciliations. A husband can only take her back if she voluntarily marries someone else, and they happen to divorce."

He notes that in the region, there are still cases of couples reconciling after the third talaq. However, such cases are due either to low religious literacy or a disregard for religious norms, he adds: "Those who know and respect religion try to abide by the rules."

According to classical Islamic law, a woman also has the right to initiate divorce, the theologian continues. The first is "khula": when the wife returns the mahr (the marriage gift paid to the bride) to her husband and asks him to let her go. If he refuses or delays, a Sharia judge can make the decision himself.

The second option is a judicial divorce. In this case, the wife appeals to the judge with evidence of serious harm: violence, non-payment of maintenance, the husband's serious illness, his disappearance, etc. The judge dissolves the marriage without any compensation, the imam says.

"The third option is legally equivalent to a man's divorce, but women rarely use it because few people know about it," the expert explains. "When a marriage contract is signed, the woman's right to divorce is included. This is known as talaq al-tafu'id. If the relationship reaches an impasse, she simply issues a divorce in her own name."

Divorce was a disgrace

"When I was young, divorce was a disgrace," recalls a journalist from Ingushetia. "Our mothers, when they gave us away in marriage, would say, 'There's no turning back. Even if they chop wood on you, endure it.'"

Divorces were rare—not because marriages were happy, but because women simply had nowhere else to go. Within families, even if they were far from loving, patience and silence were expected. Spouses lived like neighbors. Wives endured for the sake of their children, fearing condemnation and the wrath of their brothers or father. In small communities where everyone was known, a divorced woman felt like a second-class citizen.

"Modern women have become bolder and more self-aware. They understand personal boundaries and psychological abuse. The stereotype of 'just having a husband' no longer applies. Women want a partnership, and now they are often the ones initiating divorce. Not because they no longer value family, but because they are no longer willing to tolerate injustice, neglect, aggression, or polygamy."

Women have less fear of being left without a livelihood, the expert continues, and the development of online retail and various beauty niches where women find themselves are enabling them to earn money.

She believes that the shift in religious discourse also plays a major role. New generation imams, unlike the aging "proclaimers of adat," lecture on wives' rights.

"It may sound paradoxical to an outsider, but one of the factors that has given women more freedom is Sharia law. While secular law remains formal, and adat is subject to tradition and the will of elders, Sharia law is becoming an opportunity for many women to gain at least a modicum of freedom: women are engaged in business, driving, and getting divorced."

Internet access also plays a role, providing access to necessary information: how to obtain alimony through Gosuslugi or file for divorce; NGOs that help women have emerged, the expert continues.

A former representative of the Council of Teips disagrees with the journalist. He believes the internet and modern views on life give women too much freedom, which they misuse. If a husband beats his wife or uses drugs, divorce may be justified, he believes, but "it's better to endure it."

"Divorce is now commonplace; women want an easy life. True, it's not always women who initiate it. Men have also become irresponsible in their family life, marrying young women and then abandoning them without cause: mothers-in-law are often the main ones in their families. Previously, if you didn't have a compelling reason, you couldn't divorce your wife—her and his in-laws would demand it," he says.

Divorces have increased because women have become more capable of taking care of themselves and are better educated. Previously, women had to endure any hardships in marriage because they had nowhere else to go. Now, women see no point in enduring oppression when they are capable of performing the same functions as men, says psychologist Aisha Akhmadova from Grozny, who works with such couples online. She maintains her own relationship blog on Instagram.

"The other extreme is when women flee the relationship at the first sign of trouble. They are doomed to loneliness, as no marriage is free of crises. It's individual, but in both cases, family therapy is needed," she explains.

If a woman has been married for a long time and then decides to get a divorce, then most often she has tried every means to save the relationship and take it to the next level, but it simply didn't work out, since she was the only one involved.

"The whole problem is that a man in this scenario is incapable of taking responsibility for a family. A woman needs a strong and resourceful man, not an additional child who drains her last resources."

New Life

Amina is now on the threshold of a new life. She accepted a marriage proposal from the man with whom she hopes to build a new family. Zarema's children are with her again. After her ex-husband remarried, he finally gave them back to her. Now she's raising them alone and says that only now has she experienced the joy of motherhood: without the stress and endless squabbles.

"Families in the region are currently undergoing a major transformation. Traditions that have helped them survive for centuries don't always meet the challenges of modernity," says psychologist Asya Ozdoeva, who works with women in the North Caucasus. "But new models of personal partnership, respect, and emotional intimacy seem dangerous and alien to many. Some rely on collectivism and religion, while others choose a personal path," she says.

"But in any case, it's important to preserve the most important things: a culture of support and mutual responsibility," the interviewee asserts. "And it's important to stop ignoring women's interests. Because when a woman is forced to endure humiliation and pain for the sake of a semblance of 'family peace,' it's a recipe for burnout, psychological trauma, and the destruction of the family as such."

A wife's right to divorce is not a "Western invention," but a norm confirmed by the Sunnah, says a theologian.

"By adhering to these principles, we return to the balance envisioned by Sharia: protecting the dignity of both parties and preventing anyone from remaining in a marriage that has caused harm. However, we must not forget that divorce is the most undesirable of all permitted actions, and we must strive to bring the couple to mutual understanding through mediation and other methods," the theologian concluded.

"If there's a 1% chance of saving a marriage, you have to take advantage of that," says Aisha Aldamova. "The institution of family, unfortunately, is suffering. But divorce has always been, is, and will be. It will only become less common when people learn to talk to each other, set boundaries wisely, and manage conflict appropriately. When they stop tolerating what they don't like about their partner to the bitter end and learn to listen to their partner."

All illustrations were created in Midjorney.