In response to our article in Issue 939 about the fight to free agunos, a mother, a professional, and two agunos share their pain and wisdom 

Behind Every Agunah Is a Mother

Anonymous

Behind every Agunah fighting her way to freedom is a mother sitting at home and wringing her hands.

I was that mother. Through a great miracle, my daughter received her get last year. Her experience as an agunah affected our family in ways that we never imagined. It’s painful for me to write about, and I’m sure it will be painful for others to read. The good news is that the episode is in her past, and we pray that her future looks bright. This is our story.

My daughter got married in 2012. My husband and I saw red flags, but they got brushed under the carpet. There was a beautiful, over-the-top wedding followed by a move across the world and a pregnancy a few months later. We worried from afar, but we tried to believe it was the fairytale that it seemed to be. Like every mother, I wanted all of my daughter’s dreams to come true, and her grand start at her wedding truly made her husband appear as her knight in shining armor.

The estrangement began with the birth of their first child. I guess that’s pretty typical in abusive marriages, but it came as a big shock to us. I literally couldn’t understand what was happening. Was my daughter rejecting me, her mother, at this important time in her life? Was there something I did? Did her husband just hate me? Couldn’t we talk it out? According to him, she was too busy, it was a bad time, maybe in a few weeks. And so the cycle began.

Over the next few years came the birth of their next two children, and my husband and I grappled with what to do. It became clear to us that my daughter was being abused, but there was nothing we could prove. At the rare and precious times we saw them or we spoke, my daughter always brushed it off. I tried to untangle what was happening with a therapist, and I reached out to my son-in-law’s rabbi and spoke to friends. I spoke with organizations who were able to sympathize, validate, and advise. At least I now had a game plan for the best way to deal with this.

In 2019, my daughter finally had the courage to run away. And so began our journey to free her from her chains. We knew it would be a fight, but until you’ve dealt with a person like her husband, it’s impossible to understand it. It took over four years, with the help of ORA, four teams of lawyers, countless family members and friends, anonymous family from his side, rabbanim, gedolim, therapists, dayanim, civil judges, a GoFundMe, Mavoi Satum, a month in jail, a rally, a private investigator, and the threat of permanent jail time to make it happen. Sadly, we had to be more public as a family than we wanted to be to apply pressure, but I believe that is what finally made the difference.

My worry was all-encompassing during those years, and yet I had to keep those powerful emotions minimized, like an open computer tab, to allow me to move on with my personal life and my responsibilities at home. In order to get through each day, I could only hyperfocus on how to help in small doses. There were times that my daughter got so frustrated she said we should just move on without a get. “It was too hard, he (her husband) was too tough, he would never free her.” But I couldn’t give up. I was her mother, her children’s grandmother. This was a small way in which I could try to make it better, make up for her seven years of pain when I was frozen and helpless. For not pushing her harder to break her engagement. For not understanding how much she needed my husband and me, even when she pushed us away. Her pain was our pain, and yet it wasn’t. Being one step removed allowed me to jump in and try to help even when it felt impossible. And jump in I did.

It was an agonizingly frustrating period. The sands of time kept shifting; there were court dates, traumatic moments, serious illnesses, endless phone calls, more court dates. I kept calling anyone I could think of who could possibly help. We followed every lead. I watched my soft-spoken husband lose his cool when begging her ex’s family to help. I cried so many times and in front of so many people that I should have been ashamed. We threw money at it and used all the protektziya we could think of. We tried to be as supportive as possible while being locked across the world during COVID.

I came to many realizations over the last five years, some which were harder for me to swallow than others. I had to take off my rose-colored glasses and realize that not everyone is inherently good. Not everyone will take the time to care about you, even when you feel like they should.

However, others will take the time to care about you and really put themselves out there for you. They could be strangers or barely acquaintances, and yet you grow to love and appreciate them for it. Although people didn’t always speak in words, when we had a GoFundMe, we were overwhelmed by the way they spoke through their actions. We will be forever grateful.

So many times throughout the get process, it seemed like we were living in an alternate reality. I would go out to an event and act happy, and no one would ever mention our “situation.” I had no idea if they didn’t even know about it or if it was the elephant in the room. I couldn’t drum up the energy to care, and yet it was desperately lonely.

And suddenly, shockingly, on one cold winter day, the sun came out and she got her get. It happened quickly, with no warning at all. We thought her nightmare would never be over and maybe he would even live out his life in jail. But when he was taken into custody and faced with a choice, freedom was more appealing to him than jail, and he set her free. Hodu Lashem ki tov!

And here I am a year later.

I’m writing anonymously not because I’m afraid to share our names; I certainly am not. I’m writing this anonymously to avoid additional lashon hara.

I wish I could say that it ended, but the ripples will go on and on. Thank G-d, my daughter and her family are in a good place — they’re living their lives, the kids are adjusting, she has a nice job, we can hug them often. But the fabric of their lives was unraveled by this trauma and now must be stitched back up as best as we can. Through the kindness of family, community, therapy, and more, they’ve begun a new life. I see their grieving at giving up their old lives, their old friends, their home. My hearts break for them, and at the same time I’m so grateful for their safety.

The fear of the future never quiets. Will there be enough money for us to get through this, even without child support? Will “he” suddenly show up? If he does, the repercussions will be huge for everyone. How will we navigate answering the kids’ questions in the best way possible? So many questions and so few answers. And yet I am Mom — I yearn to fix all problems.

But I know that this whole saga is in the hands of Hashem, and He’s got this. All I can do at this point is love them and keep on trying every day.

I’m hoping that by sharing our story, this can, in some way, help someone else. Maybe an agunah will read it and see her mother in a different light, as someone who loves her and cares so much, yet doesn’t always know the right words and right way to help. Or maybe a mother can read it and begin to feel empowered. Maybe that mother can realize that her daughter isn’t at fault in any way, and that she herself can’t afford to be embarrassed in the presence of others by this awful situation. She might realize that she can’t dwell on what might have been but can look toward the future, that she needs to set her feelings aside and pick up her Supermom cape and go to work!

For many agunos, it takes a village to see results; however, a mother can, and will, eventually make a difference. Her daughter needs her, and she can rise to this challenge to be by her side during this difficult time.

Early Intervention Is Key

Mordechai Rhine

Marriage Mediator, CARE-Mediation.com

As a marriage mediator, I see two vital takeaways from Zehava Siegler’s article. First, when a (man or) woman has concerns in marriage, (he or) she must go for help. It’s critical that years of life not be spent suffering. If the issue isn’t such a big deal, let someone with wisdom and experience help the couple with just a bit of guidance. But if it’s something big, our message should be, “Don’t go it alone.” We must create a culture and awareness that facilitates individuals to reach out for help early on. And when they do reach out for help, we must be responsive, and not just send them back to the marriage advising them to smile more and all will be well.

Second, when a person in a marriage senses that the marriage might be over, there is a process for separation and divorce. The couple should be meeting with a marriage mediator who can assist in a process called discernment. This process seeks to identify the issues in the marriage and explore possible reconciliation. Questions like, “Is the spouse willing to go for anger management therapy?” need to be asked. Similarly, “Is the spouse willing to address the disorder or addiction that is affecting the marriage?”

Sometimes we get cooperation. The spouse answers, “Yes,” and proceeds to follow the terms set out in an agreement. In a matter of weeks, we can have clarity as to where this is going. In cases where the issues are great and we’re not getting cooperation, we can pivot to a soft landing — amicable divorce, if that is what is needed.

When a person stays in their deteriorated marriage without asking for help, they will typically stay until they can take it no longer. Then, they will often do some very unhelpful things out of desperation. This can lead to years of pain and anger and waiting for a get. Addressing issues earlier on with an outside facilitator will generally diminish the anger and the potential for an agunah situation.

The agunah situation can be described as sad, awful, unfair, and in some cases, truly a horror. Kudos to those who are stepping up to address and assist to resolve these cases.

At the same time, I hope we can recognize that there are early interventions which can bring about resolution in much more strategic and effective ways. Early intervention can bring help on board so that no one needs to suffer alone. Abuses will usually be short-lived if they are exposed earlier. The process of discernment guides the couple to identify what can be fixed. Therapy and counseling can often help if they are started earlier. If the marriage can’t be fixed, that, too, will be exposed earlier, allowing for a strategic, amicable exit that is much more likely to lead to an appropriately given get.

Mordechai Rhine,

Marriage Mediator, CARE-Mediation.com

To my Heavenly Father

An Agunah

You see deep into my shattered heart. You cry together with me in the dark lonely nights. Only You know my searing pain and anguish, the suffering and abuse I endured for the past 20 years — the years that are meant to be the most productive in one’s life.

Dear Heavenly Father, I’m enveloped by Your loving kindness through the wonderful messengers You send to support me. I benefit so much from good-hearted individuals and worthy organizations. Mi k’amcha Yisrael!

Yet all the kindness of mankind doesn’t reach a fraction of Your kindness and devotion. I’m sure it’s so terribly difficult for You to bear my agonizing misery, my bitter tears, my aching loneliness, how sad and painful it is for me to go through yet another Shabbos, another Purim, all the Erev Pesach preparations alone, again, year after year, without any hope of rebuilding in the near future.

I literally feel chained, my dreams shattered. You know how heartrending it is for a caring, devoted mother to see her children suffer so much — despite the effort she invested in them. The fact that You, Hashem, allow me to remain an agunah for so many years is proof of Your trust in me. I plead to You, Hashem, please continue to give me the strength to rise above my overwhelming challenges.

It’s so extremely difficult not to have a partner in life with whom to share my joys and disappointments. It’s so hard to raise my children alone, without a backbone, especially when they’re being poisoned against me by the man who refuses to grant me a get, who calls himself their father.

Hashem, You know how I hate to have to accept tzedakah. It’s one of the most difficult tests You send me. The constant stress, debts, the calls, tuition, food, arnona, utility bills, the phone company disconnecting my service, the threats from the landlord to have us evicted. It’s been years and I haven’t seen the child and spousal support which the beis din and civil court ordered. How many tears did I shed due to economic stress?

Ribbono shel Olam, I yearn to be zocheh to be able to marry a normal husband who will understand me. In my imagination, I look forward to cooking and baking for a large, sweet family and basking in the beautiful Shabbos atmosphere with our precious children. Oh, how I wish! I know and truly believe that when the right moment comes, my salvation will come immediately — and not a second later. Yeshuas Hashem k’heref ayin!

Tatte, I know You love me more than anyone else in the world — even more than I love myself. You’re my loving, caring Father, running a perfect world. I’ll try and emulate Your ways and listen to every commandment in Your wonderful heilige Torah, whether I understand it or not.

Please give me the strength to remain strong. Please uplift me when I feel down or weak. Just like throughout the generations Jews sacrificed their lives to remain loyal to You, I strive to live a life of kiddush Hashem.

To those who ask why I don’t just go back to live with him instead remaining single forever, since he promised that he’ll never give me a get, my answer: After the Holocaust, survivors were sent to the displaced persons camps, where they were cramped, lonely, and depressed after losing so many loved ones in such horrific ways, where they were traumatized from their experiences under the Nazis. Would it occur to any of them to go back to the concentration camps rather than endure their present misery in the DP camps? Of course, I beg Hashem to grant me a yeshuah. I want to be free from my agunah chains. But I’d rather remained “chained” than go back to Gehinnom.

Thank You, Hashem, for keeping me alive. Thank You, Hashem, for saving my sanity — and my sense of humor.

You Can Be the One to Free Me

Name Withheld

I know you see me — at the grocery store, at work, in the neighborhood. You may not know what to say. You may wonder what’s really going on.

I carry myself with grace, but I carry heavy chains.

My husband is refusing to give me a get. He’s holding it over my head like a ransom note — demanding more parenting time, money, control. He wants me to hand over my child, to risk my baby’s safety, just so I can walk free.

And I won’t do it.

I can’t do it.

I’m a mother before I’m anything else. And no matter how badly I want to be free, I will not buy my freedom at my child’s expense. I will not give in to an abusive man just to be unchained. I left him to protect my child from his abusive hands, and I will sooner spend the rest of my days a captive to the jailer I once called “husband” rather than ever let him hurt my child like he hurt me.

If you were me, what would you do? Would you agree to bizarre, anti-halachic demands just to taste freedom? Would you risk your child’s well-being and welfare so that you walk free? Would you sacrifice everything you’ve worked for, just to satisfy the whims of someone who refuses to let go? If I were your sister, your daughter, your friend — would you tell me to give in? I don’t think you would.

“If every person would regard every agunah as his or her sister or daughter, there would no longer be an agunah issue,” Rabbi Ulman of Australia says.

And yet, I’m still waiting for my freedom — because too many are standing by.

To those who say, “I’m not getting involved,” “I’m not judging,” or “I’m impartial,” understand that neutrality in the face of injustice isn’t neutrality. It’s support. It tells the get refuser that his behavior is acceptable, that he can continue on without consequence. It emboldens him. It keeps me his hostage.

Hashem, free the hostages! Those in Gaza and those chained in other ways.

My jailer will tell you it’s complicated. (Walking into beis din and giving the sofer your information is complicated?) He’ll tell you he tried to give the get, but I wouldn’t accept it. (You tried? At which beis din? Who was the sofer who wrote the get? Who was the shaliach whom I refused when he tried to deliver it to me?)

He’ll tell you he wants to give the get, but he’s afraid I won’t let him see the baby if he does. Well, I’ve never denied him time with our child. I agreed to a beis din custody agreement granting him the typical custody arrangement. He refused it. We’re in court for custody. I want my child to have a healthy relationship with his father and begged said father to build a relationship. (He won’t share any of that with you.) He’ll tell you he’s not a get refuser, if I’ll only give in to his demands, he’ll immediately give me a get (The demands being k’neged halachah since a get can’t be conditional and the demands are a form of the control he subjected me to during the marriage).

I know how complicated these things can seem from the outside. But no one is asking you to choose sides, to declare who is right and who is wrong. No one is asking you to take on the burden of judging who stands with halachah and who acts against it. That decision has already been made — by those who do bear that responsibility.

The day he chose to bring our case to secular court, he rejected the authority of Torah law. The day he was ordered by beis din to give a get and responded, “I’m getting a lawyer,” the day he refused to comply and was declared misarev l’din, the day the siruv was issued — those were the days beis din did the judging, not just for me, but for the entire Torah-observant community.

I ask you now not to arbitrate, but to uphold. To uphold the psak. To uphold the siruv. To honor the mechanism our sages established to pressure a man into doing what is right and just — to give his wife her freedom.

Halachah isn’t silent here. There are clear expectations for how our community should respond to a man who refuses to give his wife a get. A man who withholds a get belongs under siruv. He belongs under cherem. He shouldn’t be welcomed, respected. He’s not to be welcomed in your home, your shul, your business, or your community events until he abides by beis din’s ruling.

Yet it feels like I’m still standing alone. Your words matter. Your invitations welcoming him into your home for a Shabbos meal matter. Your silence matters. Every gesture of acceptance toward him tells him he’s doing nothing wrong. It violates the siruv and tells him beis din doesn’t matter.

You can help free me from these invisible chains. Please, I’m asking from a place of vulnerability: Don’t look away. Don’t sit this one out. You have more power than you know.

A siruv isn’t a suggestion; it’s a call to action. It asks you — us — to stand together, to draw a boundary around what is right and just. When that call is ignored, it doesn’t just fall flat — it actively emboldens those who do harm.

To the get refuser: You can delay my freedom, but you will never break my resolve. You may try to wear me down with coercion, manipulation, or cruelty, but know this: I will never give in. Not to your tactics. Not to your pressure. Not to your need for control. My child’s safety comes first — always. I will protect my baby, even if it means sacrificing my own release. I will not violate halachah to appease injustice. You may hold the pen — but I hold the truth.

And I will wait as long as it takes, because Hashem stands with the oppressed, not with their oppressors.

To the community: You can force his pen. You can stand beside Hashem and the oppressed. You can make a change.

You can choose to uphold the truth. You can choose to protect the vulnerable. You can be the one who helps free a woman from her chains. As the saying goes: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Yeshayahu Hanavi said, “A day of fasting is not what Hashem needs when you are oppressing the chained.” Please — do something. Say something. Stand with us. Stand for halachah. Stand for freedom.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 942)