‘Awaaz knew exactly how scared I was’

ZAHARA is 35, and she has a five-year-old son. Her marriage broke down, and now she is fighting for custody of her son.

Zahara got support from the Nottinghambased charity, Awaaz, which provide culturally appropriate and culturally specific advice for south Asians, but it closed in 2020. Zahara is not her real name, and Eastern Eye has protected her identity for fears about her safety. This is her story.

I got married when I was 22, and I had a flourishing career with my own wages and circle of friends. My parents made sure I was independent, and I could think for myself. I guess, that was the big problem. In our culture, women and girls are not meant to think or discuss to argue. We’re meant to be subservient, and once we get married, we’re now part of our husband’s family. It was an extended family, and we all shared a house, so there was little or no privacy. I wasn’t used to that.

We would argue because, as a new bride, I would be expected to cook and clean for the rest of his family. But after a hard day’s work, how can you expect someone to cook and clean for everyone else without anyone’s help, while they were sitting on their backsides?

It got worse because I was expected to hand over my wages to my in-laws. When I refused, my in-laws forced my husband to beat me up. They said it was because I had shamed them in the community. They said I had disgraced their honour by going to work and mixing with white people. They were really backward.

Soon, the family would stop me from wearing my work clothes. They said it was too westernised, and that I was white. They stopped me from seeing my friends, and slowly they controlled me. If I argued, they beat me and called me a coconut [a racial slur – brown on the outside, white on the inside]. They told me what to wear, what to eat and how to act, and I couldn’t do a thing about it because by this time I had my son.

I thought things would get better because I gave them a son, but they didn’t. I had no privacy, even

when I went to the bathroom and cried, they would follow me to ask why I was taking so long.

A friend I hadn’t seen for a long time met me when I was shopping. They couldn’t believe what had happened to me. I was a shadow of myself, and all the joy had been sucked out of me, and I wanted to end it all, but I didn’t because of my son. She told me about Awaaz and Angela [Kandola]. Over several months, Angela worked with me. She knew what I was going through because Awaaz has helped hundreds of Asian women like me. They knew exactly how scared I was. They knew I was suffering, but I wouldn’t have anyone I could trust or turn to. They knew that I would be scared to make the first move, but thanks to Angela I got the courage to leave, and they got in touch with the authorities to find me a place outside Nottingham, where I am to this day.

I was diagnosed with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD. That was before Covid. A few weeks ago, the threats started coming in because the family want to take my son away from me. They’re using the fact that I have mental health issues to say that I’m an unfit mother. I was shocked to learn Awaaz closed down, and there’s no other services like that in Nottingham.

I didn’t know what to do. When mainstream services ask question, they don’t understand our culture, the way our community works, that people know people and soon they’ll find out where you are and drag you back or kill you for destroying their honour in the eyes of the community. How do you explain honour-based violence to people who aren’t Asian?

Anyway, I got in touch with Angela. She’s helping me again even though she doesn’t have to. The government need to provide money for groups like Awaaz so they don’t have to fight for resources.

It’s tragic knowing that without Awaaz, women like me will die needlessly because we feel alone and without friends and without hope.