Asiyah is the oldest and largest center in NYC that accommodates the holistic needs of domestic violence victims who identify with the AMEMSA (Arab, Middle Eastern, Muslim, and South Asian) or BIPOC populations.
*All names in this article are concealed to maintain the privacy of Asiyah clients.
When I was 19, I interned at a legal non-profit in NYC for survivors of domestic violence. I remember working with my first Pakistani client. I knew she was Pakistani because of her name; it was a little old-fashioned, too, so I knew that she’d grown up in Pakistan. I was assigned to help file for her reimbursements, from the non-profit, for her food expenditures. I looked over the receipts she’d shared with the non-profit: From the bulk orders and their erratic timing, I knew they were for Ramadan, and I felt my heart soften. I was scheduled to call her later that day, and I remember thinking I should bring Ramadan up and ask her how it went for her. I hoped that we could bond over the spiritualism of the month, how special it was. But then I felt like an idiot, because of course Ramadan wasn’t an easy month for her, she’d probably had to fast, alone, and look after her kids and deal with an asshole of a husband. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it.
I like to think that we were able to make a special connection that day. We conversed easily in Urdu, speaking openly about our families and ties to Pakistan. She confided in me her yearning to leave her husband, with her children, and to find community with other Muslim and Pakistani women, but that she didn’t know if she’d find anything like that at the NYC shelters. As a Muslim, and as a Pakistani, she felt the NYC shelters weren’t built for women like her. Would they understand her religious obligations, respect her hijab, refrain from pigeonholing her into the archetypal Muslim woman-victim?
I knew that my non-profit had done the best we could to help her, but I remember spending the rest of the day thinking what more could and should be done for women like her: for immigrants, for South Asians, and for Muslims.
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Fast forward to a few years later: I learned of the Asiyah Women’s Center, based in New York City and not quite like other women’s shelters. Asiyah is the oldest and largest center in NYC that accommodates the holistic needs of domestic violence victims who identify with the AMEMSA (Arab, Middle Eastern, Muslim, and South Asian) or BIPOC populations.
Asiyah, then, offers a bracing and crucial intervention: a shelter where cultural sensitivity and holistic support create meaningful change for its residents. Through counseling, community building, spiritual support, and advocacy, the center transforms lives. “Asiyah isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving,” a client* shared with me over Zoom a few weeks ago.
For many clients, the journey to Asiyah is perilous. One NYC-based Muslim woman, who reached out to Asiyah after finding herself in an abusive relationship, reflects on her first contact with the center. “I wasn’t sure if what I was dealing with even counted as abuse,” she recalls. The night before reaching out, she had spent hours wandering the streets, eventually seeking shelter in a laundromat. She recalls that she reached out to Asiyah via email, trembling as she typed, before mustering the courage to give them a call. A social worker from Asiyah had answered, and had listened attentively. It was the first time she’d shared her experiences of abuse with anyone. To her relief, the social worker informed her that a bed was available at the shelter.
At Asiyah, clients are not treated as mere cases, moving in and out of the center like a revolving door. Asiyah is intentional about creating a familial environment. For many of the AMEMSA clients, growing up in and coming from family- and community-oriented environments, this is especially crucial in their ability to heal. “It didn’t feel like a shelter. It felt more like a home,” one former client reminisced. “And the Asiyah team immediately felt like family. You know that they’re not going to judge you.”This client was especially moved by the celebration of milestones, sharing that the staff and residents “surprised [her] with a cake and Palestinian food for [her] birthday. “For the first time in a long while, I felt truly loved by the people around me.” She recalls how, later on, staff member Khalto Adla —Khalto, the Arabic word for aunt, one of the in-shelter residents —supported her through medical procedures and with home-cooked meals: gestures that transformed her experience from one of survival to one of care and family. “There are strangers out there, who can really be good to another person. They don’t judge. They understand every situation.”
Despite the diversity in client backgrounds and experiences, another client shared that “we all understood each other, because we all had the same situation.” In this way, clients could grow to serve as mentors and support systems for new clients and residents of the shelter. One client shared that “when other clients come in, I’ll be the one to tell them that everything is going to be alright, you came to the right place. They helped me, and now they’re gonna help you. Don’t cry.” In this way, she feels proud to be able to “pour the same love into them as [Asiyah] poured into me.”
Asiyah is acutely aware of the systemic challenges faced by the women they serve, and proactively offers its clients support in myriad ways. They offer support with transportation, therapy, food for children of clients, professional development, and even apartment-hunting. With the support of Asiyah, one client now plans to attend UCLA and become a lawyer to advocate for other women in need. This client shared the important role Asiyah played in empowering her to dream big: “I [used to have] low self-esteem. [Before], I was always hearing negative things, getting beaten, of course, in my marriage. I wasn’t the best version of myself. Asiyah made the stronger version of me. I didn’t know I had so much potential inside of me. I didn’t know I could be strong.”
The Asiyah Center represents a novel space for many of their clients to freely and devotedly practice their Islam. Before coming to the center, one client shared that she’d long contemplated converting to Islam, but felt hesitant given the violence she was experiencing, and the instability of her household. At Asiyah, she found a welcoming environment that allowed her to practice her faith freely, without judgment. Her time at the center led her to embrace Islam fully, becoming the first person in her family to convert. She shared that she’d always “imagined celebrating [Ramadan] alone,” but that her experience had proved remarkably different: “This Ramadan, I was surrounded by a supportive community of Muslim women at the center. We shared iftar meals and prayed together, enjoying halal food options.”
Even after women leave the shelter, one client shared how “[The Asiyah Center] never abandoned me, even after I left the shelter. They always reached out to me after, to make sure that I was okay. Regular shelters don’t do that. Once you leave, that’s your own business, that’s what they tell you. But Asiyah — it’s a forever thing. They stay in touch with you. They want to know how you’re doing, how the kids are doing, and they tell you to stay strong.”
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If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, please don't hesitate to reach out to the Asiyah Center's confidential hotline at (718) 833-2425. Your safety is Asiyah's priority. To support the Asiyah Center's mission and help them continue providing vital resources and services, please consider making a donation at asiyahcenter.org/donate.
2025