Breaking the stigma surrounding mental health in the Muslim community

Faith, compassion and the courage to seek help

Mental health struggles do not signal weak faith. The writer urges Muslim communities to replace stigma, gossip and superstition with compassion, confidentiality, spiritual support and timely professional care for those who are suffering.

By DR NISAAR AHMED KOROWLAY

Mental health is a reality that touches every community, every family and every generation. Yet within many communities, including our own Muslim community, mental illness remains surrounded by stigma, misunderstanding and painful silence.

We speak openly about diabetes, cancer, heart disease and other physical illnesses. We encourage those affected to seek medical attention. We visit them, pray for them and support their families.

Yet when the illness affects the mind rather than the body, our response can be very different.

People may be told to “have more sabr,” strengthen their iman, pray more, or simply pull themselves together. Others remain silent because they fear being labelled, judged or becoming the subject of community gossip.

This must change.

Islam does not teach us to shame the suffering. Islam teaches us mercy.

The mind deserves care too

Islam recognises the human being in their entirety — body, mind and soul.

When the body becomes ill, we seek treatment. There should be no contradiction between our faith and seeking appropriate treatment when our psychological or emotional health is affected.

Allah reminds us:

“Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.” (Surah Al Baqarah, 2:286)

This verse should inspire compassion towards those carrying burdens that may not be visible to the rest of us.

A person may appear physically healthy while internally carrying enormous emotional distress. We should never assume that because we cannot see someone’s suffering, it does not exist.

Nor should mental illness automatically be interpreted as evidence of weak faith.

A person can love Allah, perform salah, make dua and possess sincere iman — and still experience depression, anxiety or another psychiatric illness.

Faith does not make the human being immune from illness.

Seeking treatment is part of our Islamic tradition

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ did not teach Muslims to abandon treatment and simply wait for illness to disappear.

When asked whether people should seek medical treatment, he encouraged them to do so:

“Seek treatment, for Allah has not made a disease without appointing a remedy for it…” (Sunan Abi Dawud 3855)

Similarly, the Prophet ﷺ taught that illnesses have remedies and that healing ultimately occurs by the permission of Allah:

“There is a remedy for every disease, and when the remedy is applied to the disease, it is cured by the permission of Allah.” (Sahih Muslim 2204)

Seeking professional help therefore need not represent an absence of tawakkul.

Treatment and tawakkul can exist together.

We consult doctors while knowing that Allah is ultimately Ash-Shāfī — the One who grants healing.

The Prophet ﷺ himself would supplicate for those who were ill:

“O Lord of mankind, remove the suffering and grant healing. You are the Healer; there is no healing except Your healing.” (Sahih Muslim 2191)

Here we find a beautiful balance: dua, compassion and treatment — not one at the expense of another.

Mental illness is not a moral failure

Mental illness should not be treated as a character defect.
Depression is not laziness.
Anxiety is not simply a failure to trust Allah.
Psychosis is not evidence that someone is a bad Muslim.

And requiring psychiatric treatment does not make a person less worthy of dignity, love or belonging.

Mental illnesses arise through complex interactions between biological, psychological and social factors. Like physical illnesses, they can affect people regardless of education, wealth, family background or religious commitment.

We therefore need to stop asking: “What is wrong with this person?”

And begin asking: “What has this person been going through, and how can we help?”

That change alone could transform lives.

Not every illness is sihr, the evil eye or jinn

This is an especially important conversation within Muslim communities.

Islam recognises the existence of sihr, ‘ayn and jinn. But belief in the unseen does not justify attributing every psychological or psychiatric illness to supernatural causes.

Someone experiencing depression, bipolar disorder, severe anxiety or schizophrenia may have a genuine medical condition requiring professional assessment and treatment.

Automatically assuming that psychiatric symptoms are caused by sihr or jinn can have serious consequences if it prevents or delays appropriate medical care.

Ruqyah and dua have an established place within Islam.

But spiritual care and medical care need not be competitors.

A Muslim can recite Qur’an and consult a psychiatrist.
A family can make dua and ensure that their loved one receives appropriate treatment.
We can place our trust in Allah while using the means Allah has made available to us.

There is no contradiction.

The danger of silence

One of the greatest barriers to mental healthcare is often not the illness itself, but the fear of how others will react.

“What will people say?”
“Who will marry them?”
“What will the community think?”
“People will say there is something wrong with our family.”

These attitudes force suffering underground.

People learn to hide their struggles rather than seek help. Families sometimes conceal illness because they fear embarrassment. Treatment may be delayed until the condition has become far more severe.

We must ask ourselves:

What is more important — protecting a family’s reputation or protecting a human being?

No person’s health or dignity should ever be sacrificed to preserve appearances.

When hospital care becomes necessary

Sometimes mental illness becomes sufficiently severe that treatment in hospital is necessary.

This should not be viewed as disgraceful.

If someone develops pneumonia, suffers a heart attack or requires surgery, admission to hospital is accepted without shame. Psychiatric illness deserves the same seriousness and compassion.

When clinicians recommend hospital care because a person’s condition has become severe or their safety is at risk, accepting that care can be an act of responsibility and love.

Hospital treatment is not punishment.

Its purpose is to provide safety, assessment, treatment and stability so that the individual can ultimately return to family and community life with dignity.

The question should never be: “What will people think if they find out?”

The question should be: “What does this person need in order to recover?”

Families: your words can heal — or hurt

Families are often the first people to recognise that something is wrong.

They can also become the most powerful source of healing.

But words matter.

Telling someone to “snap out of it,” accusing them of weak faith, comparing them with others or dismissing their suffering can deepen their isolation.

Instead, families should listen without judgement, encourage appropriate professional help, maintain confidentiality and dignity, accompany loved ones through treatment, and continue offering patience, dua and practical support.

Sometimes the most powerful words we can say are simply:

“I can see that you are struggling. You do not have to face this alone. We will find help together.”

Our masajid must become places of mercy

The responsibility does not belong to families alone.

Our masajid, Islamic schools and community organisations must become places where people experiencing psychological distress feel safe seeking support.

Imams and community leaders have an especially powerful role.

Mental health should be discussed openly from our platforms. Religious leaders should know when pastoral and spiritual counselling is appropriate — and when someone needs referral to a psychologist, psychiatrist, doctor or other qualified professional.

Our masajid should never become courtrooms where suffering is judged.

They should be sanctuaries where suffering is met with mercy.

And confidentiality must be sacred. A person’s illness should never become community gossip.

Breaking generational chains

Some attitudes surrounding mental illness arise not from Islam itself, but from cultural beliefs inherited across generations.

Previous generations often lived without today’s understanding of mental illness or access to modern psychological and psychiatric care.

We should respect their experiences without allowing yesterday’s limitations to become today’s barriers.

Knowledge has advanced.
Treatments have advanced.
Our understanding has advanced.

Islam encourages us to seek beneficial knowledge and to remove harm.

There is therefore nothing noble about allowing someone to suffer unnecessarily simply because previous generations suffered silently.

We can honour our elders while still doing better for our children.

A call to our community

The change we need begins in our homes.

We must speak about mental health without shame.
We must teach our children that asking for help is acceptable.
We must encourage early professional assessment when someone is struggling.
We must stop labelling people by their illnesses.
We must challenge gossip and ridicule.
We must recognise that spiritual support and medical treatment can work alongside one another.

And above all, we must listen.

Listen before judging.
Listen before advising.
Listen before assuming.

Sometimes a person does not need another lecture. They need someone who genuinely hears them.

Faith should never become a weapon against the suffering

Perhaps one of the most painful things we can do is use religion to make a suffering person feel guilty for being ill. Our faith should be a source of hope — not another burden placed upon their shoulders.

The Qur’an repeatedly teaches mercy, patience and compassion. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ embodied these qualities in his dealings with people experiencing hardship.

Our response to mental illness should reflect that Prophetic mercy.

A community should be measured not merely by how beautifully it worships together, but also by how compassionately it responds when one of its members is suffering.

The way forward

Breaking the stigma begins with each of us.

It begins when we choose understanding over judgement.

When we choose knowledge over superstition.
When we choose treatment over denial.
When we choose confidentiality over gossip.
When we choose compassion over shame.

And when we understand that seeking professional help does not diminish a Muslim’s faith, dignity or worth.

Mental illness does not remove a person’s humanity.

A diagnosis should never become an identity.

And no person struggling with mental illness should ever be made to feel that there is no place for them within our community.

Let us build a Muslim community in which someone can say: “I am struggling.”

And instead of being judged, they hear: “We are here for you. Let us help you find the support you need.”

That is compassion.
That is community.

And that is far closer to the mercy our beautiful faith calls us to embody.

May Allah, Ash-Shāfī, grant healing to all those who are suffering, ease the burdens carried silently within our homes, give strength and patience to their families, guide our healthcare professionals and community leaders, and make us instruments of His mercy rather than contributors to another person’s pain.

Ameen.

A final message

Mental illness is not a weakness of faith. Seeking help is an act of courage. Supporting someone through their illness is an expression of mercy — and caring for those who suffer is part of our responsibility to one another.

“And My mercy encompasses all things.” (Surah Al A‘raf, 7:156)

Dr Nisaar Ahmed Korowlay is a nuclear medicine consultant at Tygerberg Hospital, Cape Town, with over two decades of experience. He is Chairperson of the Janjira Habsani Educational and Social Society (JHESS), where he champions education, community service, and ethical leadership.