Reflection Summary
Dr. Rania Awaad
Islam calls us to care for our whole selves; much of the stigma around mental health is cultural, not religious.
Blaming every struggle on weak iman is oversimplified and can keep people from getting real help.
Dr. Awaad cites research indicating that about one in five women who have been pregnant experience postpartum or peripartum depression, and emphasizes the important role biological and hormonal changes can play.
The Prophet ï·ș taught duas for grief and also taught Aisha to give talbina to those who were low.
Mothers give constantly; without refueling, they end up running on empty.
How a mother cares for her own well-being teaches her children how to care for theirs.
Dr. Awaad begins with a confession: she never planned to work in mental health, and growing up she carried the same stigma toward it as the people around her. That stigma, she says, is not unique to Muslims; almost everyone resists the feeling that something is âwrongâ with them. But Islam itself pushes us to care for every part of ourselves, and the scholars of Islam never neglected mental health. Much of the stigma in our communities, she argues, is cultural, or comes from what the field now calls spiritual bypassing: explaining every struggle only in terms of faith, as if weak iman were the whole story.
Her clearest example is postpartum (or peripartum) depression, which affects roughly one in five women who have been pregnant. Too often a new mother who starts crying and struggling is told: Allah just gave you a healthy baby, other women canât have children, where is your iman, why arenât you praying? The shame makes many women isolate and blame themselves. Yet the science shows that most of the time this depression is biological: the same hormones that sustain a pregnancy shift rapidly at delivery, and for some women the mood shifts with them. Lack of sleep and lack of support can add to it. It is not her fault.
She points out that the Prophet ï·ș integrated faith, medicine, and practical care. Dr. Awaad points to narrations about Aisha (may Allah be pleased with her) giving talbina to people experiencing sadness or low mood, presenting this as an example of faith and practical care working together. He did not only say âtell them to pray.â There are beautiful duas for sadness and anxiety, and he sought refuge from grief every morning and evening, but he also taught people to take something that would help. âFor every illness there is a cure,â and the Muslim civilization went on to excel in medicine because âwisdom is the lost property of the believer.â So when someone says âIâll never take medicationâ or âAllah must be angry with me,â she gently answers: we donât know Allahâs wisdom in a trial, but we do know our responsibility is to take care of ourselves.
At the core of maternal mental health is a simple image: a car that keeps driving without refueling will eventually run on empty. Women are nurturers by nature, caring for children, spouses, siblings, parents, and grandparents, giving constantly and taking very little. Her research at Stanford found that about 47% of American Muslim women report significant stress, yet around half also report resistance to seeking care.
Mothers, she stresses, hold real power: children learn far more from what their mothers do than from what they say, including how she treats her own mental health. The barriers she names are stigma, spiritual bypassing, and lack of access to quality care, which she works on through Maristan, the organization she co-founded. Dr. Awaad also points to her research on historic Muslim hospitals, describing Muslim womenâs role in founding and funding some of these institutions and Islamâs long tradition of caring for mental health.
Dr. Awaad reflects on the story of Prophet Yunus as an image of profound isolation and despair, drawn from his time in the belly of the whale, where he called out, âThere is no god but You, glory be to You, I was among the wrongdoersâ: turning to Allah, praising Him, taking responsibility for his part, and asking to be brought out of the darkness. Faith, she says, gives light and guidance, and it also gives practical steps.
Her four steps: fill your cup, because you cannot give what you do not have, and self-care is not selfish; find circles of like-minded women, locally or online, who will not judge or shame you, and step back from those who do; teach by example, letting your children see you take a pause to reset (she uses a small iâtikaf-style corner at home), so they learn that pausing is healthy; and seek out support, because Allah tells us to âask the people of knowledge if you do not know.â Just as youâd call a plumber for a leak, you see a mental health professional when things go too deep for friends and family. The Sunnah, she closes, is to make dua, pray, and take whatever help you need.
Dr. Awaad argues that Islam has never had a conflict with caring for mental health; the stigma in many communities is largely cultural or comes from misunderstanding. She warns against spiritual bypassing: using religious language to explain away every emotional struggle. Faith matters deeply, but saying everything comes down to iman leaves out something important. We cannot know Allahâs wisdom in a hardship, whether it is a test, a lesson, or a purification. What we do know is our responsibility to care for ourselves.
When you or someone you love is struggling, replace âyou just need more imanâ with âletâs pray, and letâs also find what help you need.â
Dr. Awaad cites research indicating that about one in five women who have been pregnant experience postpartum or peripartum depression. New mothers are often shamed: you have a healthy baby, why are you crying, donât you pray? She explains that most of the time it is biological, as the hormones that sustained the pregnancy shift rapidly after birth, and notes that sleep deprivation and lack of support can make it worse. Shame drives new mothers into isolation. Understanding that it is not her fault opens the door to support.
Check in on a new mother you know this week, and offer practical help like a meal or a few hours of rest rather than advice.
The Prophet ï·ș sought refuge from sadness and grief every morning and evening, yet he also taught Aisha to give talbina, a comforting dish of barley, milk, and honey, to those who were low. He taught that for every illness Allah has sent a cure. Early Muslims learned medicine from every source, and Dr. Awaadâs research highlights how Muslim women helped found and fund some of the first hospitals to care for mental illness. Taking medication or seeing a therapist is not a sign of weak faith; it follows the Sunnah of seeking the means Allah has provided.
If you have been avoiding help because it feels unIslamic, remind yourself that seeking treatment is itself part of the Prophetic tradition.
Women nurture everyone around them, children, spouses, siblings, parents, grandparents, and rarely take anything back. Like a car that is never refueled, eventually they run on empty. Her teachers practiced a one-to-one ratio: if you teach a class, attend one; if you feed someone, make sure youâve eaten. Self-care is not selfish. Children are watching: when a mother openly takes a short pause to reset, her children learn that caring for your mind and heart is good, not shameful.
Choose one small, regular way to refill your cup this week, and let your children see you do it.
Create a small quiet corner for a few minutes of dua, dhikr, or stillness. Tell your children âMama needs a few minutes to resetâ so they see it as something positive.
Look for a group of like-minded mothers, in person or online, who encourage rather than judge. Gently step back from company that shames or guilt-trips.
Memorize the dua of Yunus (La ilaha illa anta, subhanaka, inni kuntu minaz-zalimin), and alongside it take one practical step: rest, a walk, a nourishing meal, or a conversation.
Instead of asking a struggling new mother about her iman, bring food, hold the baby while she sleeps, or help her find a doctor.
If sadness, anxiety, or exhaustion feels too heavy to manage with ordinary support, consider talking with a doctor or qualified mental health professional. Dr. Awaad emphasizes that seeking appropriate help is not a sign of weak faith.
There are no right or wrong answers here, just space to think about your own family.
When I feel low or overwhelmed, do I tell myself it is only because my faith is weak?
How full is my cup right now, and what is one thing that genuinely refills it?
What are my children learning from watching how I handle stress and my own well-being?
Are the people around me encouraging, or do I often feel judged or guilt-tripped by them?
How would I respond if my own child told me they were struggling with anxiety or depression?
Every family is different. If youâve tried something that made a difference in your family, weâd love to hear about it.
More reflections that may help you think about this from another angle.