Israeli brides are being lured to Britain and matched with violent sex abusers

In some cases, the women arrive in the UK believing it will be a short visit, unaware that their husbands intend to be in Britain permanently. Once they arrive, unable to speak English and cut off from their support networks, the women become isolated. Then the physical abuse begins.

In the past six months, six such cases have come to light – but insiders believe the true number could be far higher. One expert helping domestic abuse survivors in the community said she has supported 12 women in similar circumstances in the last year.

Some of the women were systematically assaulted by their husbands in front of their children (Image: Getty / stock)Getty Images/iStockphoto

In written testimony shared with the JC with the women’s permission, three Israeli survivors of abuse at the hands of their strictly Orthodox British husbands share their stories.

Newlywed Chaya* arrived in the UK for what she thought was her honeymoon. The plan had been to take a short trip to meet her husband’s Dovid’s* family, then go back to Israel to continue her studies and start married life.

“We met and got engaged within weeks,” Chaya said. “Dovid came from a wealthy and respected family in London – that’s what I was told.”

Her family was impressed by her new husband’s status: “It seemed important to my father,” Chaya said.

But once the couple landed in London, everything changed.

Chaya was taken to a grimy flat and told she would not be returning to Israel. Her passport was taken; there was no phone in the flat; and she was forbidden to drive. Chaya was trapped. Then the violence started.

“He told me the UK was our new home and that I should thank him for putting a roof over my head,” Chaya said. “I was so scared of him. Every time I mentioned Israel, he would grow angry and physically assault me, so I learned that if I wanted to stay safe, I should not bring it up.”

But silence was no protection against her husband’s violence, which was worse on Shabbat, when Dovid routinely raped her, she said. Her inability to speak English made crying out seem futile.

One day, after being punched, Chaya tried to flee the flat. Opening the door in a bid to escape, Dovid blocked her exit. Hearing the commotion, a neighbour checked what was going on. Desperate, Chaya called out in Hebrew: she was being abused, she needed help. But the woman did not understand.

“Don’t worry,” Dovid told the neighbour. “She’s just crazy. Ignore her.” And the neighbour closed her door. By this point, although Chaya struggled to speak English, she was able to understand it.

The abuse continued.

Dovid was determined to have a child with Chaya and threw away her contraception. He bought ovulation tests and forced her to take them in front of him every morning: “I tried not to urinate or to intentionally miss the test, but he stood above me and made sure I took it.

“He wanted me to have a kid with him so I would never be able to escape him in this lifetime.”

After the baby was born, the abuse continued in front of the child; sometimes Chaya was carrying the baby in her arms while Dovid beat her and threw objects at her.

When she finally mustered the courage to show other women her bruises, they rejected her pleas for help and told her to put her arms away – it was not “tznius” (modest) to show her body. Though she maintained an abiding faith in God, Chaya said her faith in the community faded.

Because it was not just Dovid who abused Chaya – her husband forced her to have sex with other men for money, she said: “He would tell me that I wasn’t contributing financially to the marriage, and this was the least I could do. He made me watch him have sex with a friend’s wife and told me this was normal behaviour. He was so violent sexually, it was like watching me in pain gave him oxygen to breathe. It made him high.”

Fearful that staying in the marriage would kill her, eventually Chaya escaped Dovid’s clutches.

[Missing Credit]

“Once I shared my story, I learned of other women who were going through [similar experiences]. Many of them told me that I should give up on my dream to go home to Israel, to accept my life in the UK. But I never let go of my dream, I didn’t let other people’s reality become my own.”

Finally, Chaya returned to Israel – and now she is deciding to speak out to help other women. “My message to the young girls like me, the girls from Israel who need to go home, is don’t be afraid. Don’t let the language barrier set you back, don’t let the isolation stop you from finding someone to ask for help.

“If you keep going, at the end of the darkness there is a bit of light. You might not see it, but after it is the hardest, it’s when the light will come.”

The emotional toll of walking on eggshells became too much. The constant hypervigilance started having a physical impact, and I began to have panic attacks and fainting spells.

Rivka* only began to recognise the abuse in her marriage in its final years. Like Chaya, she came from Israel and was married young.

“I didn’t know much about men or marriages,” she said. “I now know that I was very naïve at the start... He hid things from me, and there were definitely red flags that I started to notice.”

When her husband started to abuse her, she thought that it was “normal”. As well as subjecting her to rape, he would hit her, throw objects at her, and eventually refused to speak to her, she said.

Women in Rivka’s community do not leave abusive relationships “because they don’t know any differently”, she said. They view the abuse as their “aveirah” or sin, and the men tell them it is their fault.

Women are told it is not tznius - or modest - to talk about the abuse or tell others about the reality of their marriage (Image: Getty / stock)Getty Images

Rivka spoke to her rabbi, but received little support: “There was a lot I went through that he knew about, but he never asked more questions,” she said.

The all-encompassing shame surrounding divorce for Rivka meant she was reluctant to leave her marriage and was terrified that her parents would spurn her if they ever found out. Thankfully, they did support her – and felt enormous guilt about what happened.

Now, Rivka is urging the Jewish community to take greater responsibility for protecting women: “The job of community members is to find warning signs, not to ignore them. If even one person takes one thing from my experience, that is enough reason to share what I have been through.”

The insular Chasidic community where these women lived Getty Images

She emphasised how damaging it is when victims are blamed for their suffering, and said she wanted communal leaders to understand these patterns of abuse.

“If a woman can hear that it’s not their fault, maybe that will give them something to think about and that maybe something is wrong. If my rabbi sent someone to me or suggested I go to someone as support, I would have felt more supported.”

Her advice to any other woman experiencing abuse is to seek help, if they are “not happy or feel something is wrong”.

Such help may not necessarily come from a religious figure – it is her therapist whom Rivka credits for saving her life.

“Emotional help is the first step,” she said. “Practical support can come later once you know what’s wrong.”

Just days after Israeli-born Suri’s* wedding, she sensed something was “deeply wrong” with her British husband.

She had been told he was shy and quiet – but it soon became apparent that he was so heavily medicated that he could barely speak. His mood swung between long silence and sudden, explosive rage. The violence began almost immediately.

Suri spent long days at the local park to keep her children away from her husband, fear he would be violent towards them (Image: Getty / stock)Getty Images

She had five children in the abusive marriage – but to protect them, Suri spent entire days at the park, never knowing what state she would find her husband in at home.“The emotional toll of walking on eggshells became too much. The constant hypervigilance started having a physical impact, and I began to have panic attacks and fainting spells.” She tried to hide what she was going through from her children.

When Suri returned to Israel and told her family about some of the abuse, her parents were far from supportive.

“My parents reminded me that life as a divorcee in our community would be difficult, that my younger sibling’s shidduch prospects would be ruined and so would my children’s. They assured me that no marriage is simple, and that I owed it to my sibling to try again.”

Suri’s experience is not unique. While some families welcome their daughters back, other women face rejection or ostracism from relatives determined to maintain appearances and secure future matches for other family members.

Rabbanit Ramie Smith has supported women leaving abusive marriages and assisted those who have faced get refusal[Missing Credit]

Rabbanit Ramie Smith has spent the past five years advocating for women like Chaya and others struggling to receive their gets. While awareness of abuse and coercive control is growing, Smith told the JC that Israeli women brought to the UK for strictly Orthodox marriages are especially vulnerable.

“Because these girls have no family or friends to support them here, the culture is vastly different, there’s a language barrier and the majority of them do not even have access to their finances. One thing compounds on top of another which adds to their vulnerability, making them perfect victims for coercive control.”

Smith says the violent sexual abuse to which some women are subjected might leave bruising, “but without an internal examination, and with the stigma of disclosing abuse, the damage often goes unseen.”

A key factor exploited by abusers is spiritual abuse. Women raised in the strictly Orthodox community are taught that the sanctity of their home is their life’s purpose – and to keep their home pure they should refrain from sex while they are on their period.

But in some cases, women are raped while menstruating, before they have gone to the mikveh, where they are made “ritually pure”, allowing them to resume sexual activity.

“Women are taught that how they observe family purity affects the kedusha [sanctity] of their home and children. When that’s taken from her, it’s not just the assault – which she already endures regularly – but the sense that she has damaged her children and her home’s holiness.”

Once this has happened, and menstruation has been used as part of the abuse, a woman’s sense of shame can become overwhelming and she can “begin to unravel from the inside.”

Smith said that her clients struggle speaking about this kind of abuse more than any other: “It is existentially destabilising.”

When these matches are arranged across borders in some cases the bride’s family has heard rumours that the groom is potentially violent but they are assured that a therapist is helping to support him. Nonetheless, while mental health awareness has improved, experts told the JC that a few therapy sessions cannot resolve deep-rooted issues.

Charlotte Dunner works with women in the community seeking gets and said, “There is more understanding of mental health [in the community]… It is a subject that you can approach, which years ago was not the case. But there is still some way to go.”

Marriage can also exacerbate existing conditions. “There are all these new triggers,” Smith said. “Many of these men have never interacted with women other than their mother and sisters. Suddenly, they’re married to someone culturally different, with a language barrier.”

A resident walks in a street during celebrations for the Jewish holiday of Purim in the Orthodox Jewish neighbourhood of Stamford Hill (Getty)AFP via Getty Images

Marrying a man with severe mental health needs can mean women feel additional layers of entrapment. One woman said her husband sat on a rooftop threatening to jump every day. Another was told by her husband that his clinical psychosis was caused by her desire to wait to have a child, preventing him from fulfilling the mitzvah of procreating.

“My young clients tell me, ‘I’m not a mental health nurse or psychologist, I am not staying with someone to be their carer,’” Smith said.

These mental health conditions are often known about within the communities to which the men belong: “When you speak to relatives or friends, or rabbis and teachers, it’s often the case – though not always – that people will say, ‘We knew he was violent. We knew he had mental health issues,’” Smith said.

Yet the matches are arranged by families who believe they are making the right decision for their daughters. Some are deeply troubled when they realise they have guided their children towards an abuser.

Chaya’s father became physically ill after he learned of the abuse she had endured.

“He had a stroke, which coincided with my legal proceedings in attempts to relocate to Israel as well as continued abuse by my ex,” Chaya said.

While Chaya is no longer bound to Dovid through marriage, he continues to use her children as a means to abuse her – a common tactic deployed by abusers.

Because for Chaya, like so many of these women, when they leave the marriage, the abuse – including that perpetrated by the wider community – continues, especially if the case ends up in family court.

“There are no secrets in small communities,” Smith said, and the backlash to a court case can be devastating.

Some of the men belong to families who donate to communal institutions, and women are concerned that this financial power could seep into the beth din (rabbinical court), influencing whether they will be granted a get and affecting their custody rights.

Dunner said some women have been “punished” for going to the family court.

In some cases, the JC understands, women have been stalked, threatened and had tzadakah (financial assistance) taken away. In other instances, children have been expelled from Jewish schools.

Most of the women in these cases were married religiously, not by UK law, and must secure a get from the Jewish courts, which means continued engagement with the community.

Organisations helping abused women report that their clients are getting younger. This, they say, is likely because women have a better understanding now of what abuse looks like. But some experts say that the women coming forward are younger because they want to escape abusive marriages before they have children; some are married for just a few months before they ask for help.

Still, Smith is encouraged that more women are coming forward after hearing accounts such as Chaya’s: “They are feeling a little more confident that they can also take that step,” she said.

But she is urging the community to “recognise the seriousness of what is happening. These women deserve protection, support, and, when necessary, a safe return to Israel.”

JWA's Sam Clifford is urging the community to recognise signs of abuse and support these vulnerable Israeli women[Missing Credit]

Commenting on the stories of abuse, Sam Clifford, CEO of Jewish Women’s Aid – the UK’s specialist service for Jewish women and children affected by domestic abuse and sexual violence – said the charity has witnessed this “disturbing pattern” emerge in recent years.

She called on the wider community to take action to address the issue and ensure systems are in place to identify and protect vulnerable women before more harm is done. Clifford also highlighted the support JWA can offer, including Hebrew-speaking counsellors for Israeli women.

“This is a community issue that cuts across religious, cultural and geographical boundaries, and it requires a collective urgent response. Every rabbi, community professional and frontline worker must be aware of what is happening.

“Vulnerable young Israeli women are being brought into the UK under the false promise of safety and stability, but instead are trapped in marriages where they face abuse, control and coercion.

“JWA is here to help these women, but we cannot do it alone. We are calling on the community to come together, to recognise the signs, to ask the difficult questions, and to ensure these women are not left suffering in silence.”

​Responding to the investigation, the victims’ commissioner, Claire Waxman, said: “Too often I hear of women from other countries trafficked into abusive marriages when they do not speak the language, have no support system to turn to and are trapped in violence.

“Perpetrators regularly weaponise their victims’ insecure immigration status, using the threat of arrest or deportation as a means of control. For the Jewish community, the get is harnessed as another form of coercive control, used to perpetuate abuse.”

Waxman said the fear of family courts, “where many women endure further harm and the terrifying prospect of losing their children,” is also troubling. “This is why I have long called for a firewall between the police and immigration enforcement, so victims can report abuse without fear of reprisal. I have also urged for reform of family courts, so abuse is properly identified and women and their children are protected.”

Waxman added, “Rabbis and the community have a crucial role to play in opening pathways to safety for these women. I urge anyone experiencing abuse to seek support. Help is available through organisations such as Jewish Women’s Aid and Lighthouse.”

Meanwhile, Jess Phillips, the minister responsible for safeguarding and violence against women and girls, said: “My thoughts are with the victims whose stories have come to light in this investigation – no one should be trapped in an abusive marriage, isolated from support or denied basic freedoms. That’s why, as part of our mission to halve violence against women and girls, we are introducing new statutory guidance and a legal definition of ‘honour’-based abuse to help identify and respond to these crimes.”

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*Names and details of the women’s stories have been altered to protect their identities. The JWA helpline is 08088010500 jwa.org.uk