Love under strain: Iraq’s young struggle to tie the knot
Shafaq News
In Iraq, the idea of building a life together is no longer straightforward. For many, the journey toward marriage has become a careful negotiation between hope, hesitation, and the realities of the world around them.
Love exists, but it now must contend with unseen pressures and silent questions — about timing, choices, and the kind of life worth committing to.
Love’s High Cost
For many young Iraqis, marriage has shifted from a celebration of love to a test of financial readiness. Youth unemployment stands at 26%, and inflation reached 8.3% in 2024. In Baghdad, rents have climbed from IQD 400,000 ($263) in 2020 to over IQD 700,000 ($460) in 2024 — an increase of more than IQD 300,000 ($197).
Meanwhile, the price of a 21-carat gold mithqal — a traditional part of dowries — has nearly doubled, rising from IQD 275,000 ($181) in 2019 to IQD 480,000 ($316) in 2025.
“These numbers create real pressure on young couples,” social researcher Fatima al-Sarraj explained to Shafaq News, highlighting the economic hurdles that shape marital decisions. “Love becomes another financial burden when you are expected to shoulder loans, dowries, and lavish ceremonies before you even start a life together.”
Al-Sarraj observed that the economic strain is compounded by a cultural shift. Iraq’s youth are increasingly exposed to global norms through social media, reshaping expectations around relationships, gender roles, and personal autonomy. Yet traditional pressures remain strong. “Many young people feel they must meet social expectations even when it risks financial ruin,” she added.
The tension is evident in the experience of Ali, a 29-year-old from Baghdad, who described marriage today as “more of a business deal than a partnership.” He pointed to friends still repaying wedding loans years after their ceremonies. His father, while frustrated by the delay, acknowledged that he can’t blame him, stressing that ‘’society judges, but doesn’t help.”
A generational recalibration is reflected in the data. A 2024 Al-Nahrain University survey found that 63% of Iraqis aged 20–35 no longer consider marriage a life priority, with 54% citing economic instability as the main obstacle. Nearly half of respondents believe love alone cannot sustain a marriage, and 37% of young women said they would remain unmarried if it conflicted with their careers.
Religious voices offer another perspective. Islamic scholar Sheikh Hazem al-Atwani argued that many pressures stem from a drift away from divine guidance. He emphasized that husbands must provide and respect, and wives must uphold their roles — not as constraints, but as protections for marital stability.
Highlighting the potential impact of modern civil laws on family structures, Al-Atwani suggested that a return to foundational rules could restore balance.
Despite differing lenses, both al-Sarraj and Al-Atwani converge on one point: Iraq’s youth are navigating a difficult crossroads. “The question isn’t whether youth want to marry,” al-Sarraj emphasized, “but whether the kind of marriage they can afford still feels worth pursuing.”
Read more: Visit the jewelry shop? Iraq’s soaring gold prices put weddings on hold
Divorce Decoded
If many young Iraqis are delaying marriage, an increasing number of those who do marry are struggling to keep their unions intact. Divorce, once a social taboo, is now becoming a defining reality — and its emotional and social toll is reshaping families across Iraq.
Arwa, a woman in her early thirties, recalled how her marriage of five years gradually deteriorated under the weight of disrespect and silence. “I tried to fix things,” she whispered. “But he never listened, and I stopped feeling like myself.”
When she finally requested a divorce, she expected freedom to bring peace. Instead, judgment followed. “My family told me a woman must endure no matter what. I went back to my parents’ house, but I didn’t feel safe. Every day I hear words that break my heart.”
Speaking to Shafaq News, psychologist Dr. Lina al-Hassan, who works with divorced women at Baghdad’s Ibn Rushd Mental Health Center, observed that Arwa’s story reflects a quiet crisis spreading through Iraq’s homes. “For many women, divorce is both an escape and a punishment,” she explained, emphasizing that leaving one form of suffering often leads to another — isolation, blame, and economic hardship.
A 2024 study by the University of Baghdad’s Department of Social Research found that over 60% of divorced women fall into financial difficulty within a year of separation, particularly those with children. “Divorce rarely ends with two signatures,” al-Hassan noted. “It lingers in the lives of children who grow up anxious, withdrawn, or distrustful of family life.”
Risk, Not Comfort
That fear is influencing a generation’s decisions. Areej, a 25-year-old student, reflects on what she has seen. “Marriage becomes a cage instead of comfort,” she murmured. “I don’t want to live my life afraid of mistakes or gossip.”
Sociologist Muna al-Saadi believes that sentiment signals a broader shift among Iraq’s youth. “Young people no longer see marriage as a guarantee of stability,” she observed. “They see it as a risk — emotional, financial, and social.”
Official figures underscore the trend. The Supreme Judicial Council recorded 171,846 marriages and 34,522 divorces in the first half of 2025 — roughly one separation for every five unions. The number of divorces has been climbing steadily over the years: 34,000 in 2010, 45,000 in 2015, 73,000 in 2020, and more than 80,000 in 2024.
Al-Saadi interprets these numbers as a reflection of deeper social change. “Marriage has become fragile because people are demanding more from it — respect, understanding, equality.”
Those expectations are evident in Ziyan’s experience. Divorced for two years, she described her marriage as “a life of pressure and expectations.” Ending it, though difficult, marked a turning point.
“After the divorce, I started learning how to love myself,” she explained. “I work, I decide, and I don’t care what people say anymore.”
Framing women like Ziyan as part of a quiet social awakening, Al-Saadi highlighted that women no longer view endurance as a virtue. “They demand dignity — and the freedom to choose happiness.”
She also cautioned that Iraq’s limited institutional support exacerbated these struggles. The country has fewer than 40 family counseling centers, many understaffed, and women constitute only 15–18% of family case lawyers. “Without support systems, couples reach the courtroom instead of reconciliation,” al-Saadi noted.
For Arwa and Ziyan, the emotional scar is still healing. Each has found a path to rebuild — through work, reflection, or simply the belief that life must move forward. “Divorce hurt me, but it taught me,” Arwa reflected softly. “Maybe I’ll marry again — when I’m truly ready.”
Their stories capture more than personal struggle. They reflect a country in transition — where love now contends with doubt, where tradition clashes with independence, and where a generation is slowly rewriting what it means to start over.
Written and edited by Shafaq News staff.
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