The Quiet War of Single Mothers

They live in a parallel reality, one that exists in silence, almost without anyone speaking about it. While society is occupied with missiles, headlines and the cabinet, they continue living their own private war. Not just since today, and not only because of Iran or Hezbollah. They are single women, most of them after years of prolonged abuse, some still dealing with emotional and financial scars, all of them carrying the household and the children alone. When routine life cracks, when schools close and the economy stalls, they are left with an almost impossible burden. They cannot “take a break,” cannot rely on someone to stay with the children, cannot ask a grandmother who lives nearby for help, because sometimes there simply is no one like that. Poverty does not know what an emergency is. Rent does not stop during alarms, and the electricity bill does not wait for a ceasefire. The main problem for women who have experienced abuse is economic, many of them fall into poverty, sometimes into heavy debt, after years of financial control or dependence. Even when they manage to re-enter the labor market, they are often employed in unstable jobs, at low pay, under conditions of “last in, first out.” During wartime this vulnerability becomes sharper, as many workplaces close or reduce activity, and they are the first to be let go, among other reasons because the children are at home and there is no one to take care of them. Some of them managed to find stable work after years of dependence, only to discover that the office had temporarily closed or that the role was no longer relevant. Many clients at our organization told us that בדיוק when they started a new job, after months of searching, they had to leave it after a week because the kindergartens closed and they have no one to rely on. They have no one to leave the children with. They had no choice.

And the loneliness comes in double portions. Most of us experience loneliness, but for the women we support, this is not a new feeling. They know well the feeling of a long night without sleep, without anyone to talk to, without knowing what tomorrow will look like. This war has simply made it more tangible. Suddenly, people around them understand a little more. A little more vulnerable. Maybe this is also our chance as a society to see them. We, at the “Ruach Nashit” association, try to hold the threads together. We go out on rounds of phone calls to all our hundreds of clients, call after call, trying to understand what is missing and where we can help. In some cases, this means immediate financial assistance, food vouchers, because in emergencies some women literally do not have enough to eat. Distributing food vouchers is not part of our regular work in normal times, but in the current reality it is becoming a matter of survival. In other cases, it means a listening ear, or connecting someone to a treatment provider in the community. “Sometimes there is enormous value simply in the fact that a staff member calls and asks, ‘How are you?’”

Our clients are strong. Not because they want to be, but because they have no choice. They are rich in internal resources, willpower, faith, resilience, imagination. But they are very poor in external resources. They have no backup. No safety net. And דווקא now, when all of us are experiencing existential uncertainty, we have the chance to understand. Maybe for the first time, we can feel what they experience all the time. This war will end one day. We still do not know when or how. But it is important to remember that there are quieter wars, more prolonged wars, that continue even when the headlines disappear from the screen. We can choose whether to direct our gaze there too, and whether to turn this temporary sensitivity into deeper understanding. No one deserves to fight alone, not even after the war ends.

Rossi Miller-Minster, MSW, head of the professional team at the “Ruach Nashit” association, which helps women affected by violence achieve financial independence.