Can we treat widows with more kindness?
What you need to know:
What we really need is a society that does not just see widows as walking symbols of misfortune
Last weekend, I found myself in the middle of a dilemma; helping my friend make a tough decision. See, she lost her husband two years ago, and ever since, she has been wrestling with the question: Should she leave Mothers' Union? Now, I have never quite understood why losing a husband makes someone less of a mother, to the point that they had to create an entirely separate association for them. I mean, really?
If you ask me, her absence will make the group poorer, she is always the one coming up with brilliant ideas. But some members have been mumbling for months about her “delayed departure.” I suspect that some of it is envy, while others are just following the rules like robots. It is hard to shake the feeling that we, her so-called friends, have kind of turned on her.
It is like we are trying to erase her from the group, and that, frankly, shocks me. The thing is, this is not just a problem confined to our little Mothers’ Union group. Think about the bigger picture for a second. Have you ever stopped to consider how easily women such as my friend, especially in our society, can become invisible? The world seems more interested in tearing people down than lifting them up.
What makes their suffering so painfully poignant is that it is usually accompanied by a profound sense of isolation. We have grown so accustomed to seeing women thrive in the comfort of a partnership, that when the rug is pulled out from under them by the death of a spouse, it is like they have lost their entire identity. We seem to not know how to deal with them anymore, and that is heartbreaking. In some cultures, widows are treated like pariahs, as if their mere existence is some sort of affront to society.
In some African traditions, a widow might even be blamed for her husband's death and subjected to bizarre, often humiliating rituals. It is as though their grief is not enough of a burden to bear, so let us pile on a little extra shame while we are at it. When you become a widow, you are immediately thrust into an identity crisis. Suddenly, you are not just mourning your husband, you are mourning your entire identity. You are judged by how you dress, who you talk to, and, heaven forbid, if you dare to find joy or show emotional independence.
If you step off the “appropriate mourning” path, even a little, you are criticised and isolated. It is as if society says, “Sure, grieve, but only up until it becomes inconvenient for us. After that, put on your sad face and wear it forever.” What we really need is a society that does not just see widows as walking symbols of misfortune, but as individuals who have been through a seismic shift in their lives. Why is it so hard to imagine a world where these women can grieve, grow, and live without feeling constantly judged?
Instead of piling on rules and judgments, why not celebrate the strength it takes to survive such an enormous loss? They have been through a storm that many of us cannot even fathom, and yet they are still expected to follow some unwritten, outdated code of conduct that undermines their very humanity. The truth is, none of us know what tomorrow will bring. Life could shift beneath our feet at any moment. So, before we start pointing fingers, let us remember that we all live in glass houses.
Let us be kinder to widows; not because it is the politically correct thing to do, but because it is the right thing to do. Let them mourn, let them grow, and let them live; without constantly reminding them of their misfortune.
