The Taliban Use Violence Against Women as a Bargaining Chip

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The theme for the 2022 International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation, which took place on February 6, was accelerating investment to end FGM. With the COVID-19 pandemic seriously impacting efforts to eliminate this harmful practice, it is crucial for governments, international actors and donors to scale up investments in global efforts. 

What Is FGM?

FGM involves the partial or complete removal of external female genitalia for non-medical reasons. It is not recommended in any religious texts, has no health benefits and can cause serious lifelong physical and psychological harm. 

With an increase in investment to end this harmful practice, it is important to ensure that sufficient resources are allocated to the Middle East and Asia, which have not been traditionally prioritized, partly due to the absence of official data on the practice. The impact of low investment is felt by women’s rights activists, whose work in both regions is woefully underfunded and lacks sufficient international support.

Globally, an 200 million women and girls have experienced some form of FGM, which is a human rights violation and form of violence against women and girls. However, this data is based only on 31 countries from which national prevalence data is available and does not reflect the true scale of the problem. This has been documented in various reports, including by the US End FGM/C Network, the End FGM European Network and Equality Now. This report found that FGM occurs in more countries around the world than widely acknowledged and that the number of women and girls who are affected is being woefully underestimated.

FGM in Iran

In Iran, the lack of sufficient resources and international assistance has impacted the work of organizations such as . This organization, in particular, does not have big statistical studies to provide reliable data on the scale and nature of FGM in Iran. It also faces challenges due to little support and limited media coverage.

FGM has been documented in Iran for almost a century. In 1928, a travel by pediatrician Dr. Rastegar, writing about Lorestan, a province in Western Iran, was published in the magazine Nahid:

“Another important point that is common among women living in tents is the circumcision of girls, which must be done from the age of five to nine; for until a girl is circumcised, she is not a Muslim and no one will take bread from her. As it was heard from the Lors, the method of circumcising girls is that they put the girl to sleep and cut the outer part of the clitoris, which is out of the small lips, with a sharp razor. Due to the weather and other environmental qualities, the genitals of the nomadic girls are different from urban girls. As is understood, this practice is also common among the Arabs and the tribes of Khuzestan also believe in this practice. To stop the bleeding, the girl has to sit in the river up to her waist, and if she bleeds again, she has to move in the water for a while.”

Despite such early reports, the Iranian press has been reluctant to report on FGM. Homa Sarshar, a pre-revolutionary journalist, said in an that she noticed the spread of FGM 50 years ago during a trip to southern Iran. In a report, she tried to make the news public. However, she says, the media outlet’s editor did not publish her piece as he had been instructed by authorities that the government was aware of the situation and was deciding what to do about it.

Although FGM continues to be practiced in western and southern Iran, the lack of news coverage has been a challenge. For over a decade, activists were unable to convince Iranian news outlets to report on FGM, but some journalists have now begun to cover the issue. Reporting on the issue is key as gender-sensitive media coverage has an important role to play in increasing public understanding about human rights violations, holding duty bearers to account and instigating positive change.

Small-scale in Iran have found FGM prevalence ranging from 16% to as high as 83% in some communities, and there are still many unknown places in the country where FGM may be happening.

Stopping FGM

At one point, the government, at the suggestion of Stop FGM Iran, attempted to conduct a pilot project. The project was launched and provided unprecedented insight, but government cooperation was abruptly paused and, despite a follow-up, never resumed.

Efforts to draft a specific law against FGM in Iran continue. Although some legal provisions refer to the issue of amputation of genitals and allocation of blood money, they are incomplete and should be reconsidered to effectively address the issue. A law explicitly banning FGM in Iran would make it clear to the public that FGM is a human rights violation and provide a deterrent effect to would-be offenders. It would also grant specific legal recourse to survivors within the criminal justice system.

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Many gynecological centers in Iran advertise under the pretext of genital cosmetic surgery, sometimes even under the name of female circumcision, and exploit the lack of public awareness. No government authority is responsible for raising public awareness against this human rights violation, and with very low costs, women are encouraged to have cosmetic surgery on their genitals.

A recent on attitudes toward FGM in southern Iran found the continued prevalence of misconceptions about FGM amongst women in the region, including that FGM prevents infertility, reduces the chances of divorce, protects girls from rape and ensures that women deliver more sons.

How can we stand against female genital mutilation without government intervention, changing the law and raising awareness? Today, in addition to the above, activists need to receive financial and other assistance from government and international actors so they can work toward reducing FGM prevalence and, ultimately, eliminate it.

*[Rayehe Mozafarian is the founder of Stop FGM Iran. Divya Srinivasan is a legal adviser at Equality Now.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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Shattering the Silence on Female Genital Cutting

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While Sharifa visits India in 2016, khatna, a form of female genital cutting practiced by her Dawoodi Bohra community, is in the news. Her favorite cousins are on opposite ends of the debate, and she isn’t sure how or what to feel about the issue. As the story progresses, she learns truths about herself and her family that alter her life indelibly.

Shrouded in Mystery

Like my protagonist, I was born into this community. Dawoodi Bohras are a small Shia Muslim subsect with an estimated worldwide population of around 1.5 million. We are known for our high levels of education, our distinctive attire — orthodox women wear colorful burka-like outfits — and our delicious Bohri cooking.

Because the community is insular, most outsiders don’t know about the more problematic things. For example, those who openly critique our religious leader’s diktats can be socially shunned. Those who don’t comply with his rules about secular issues can be bullied. And, worst of all, he insists that khatna is mandatory.

Khatna is shrouded in secrecy. It involves cutting a girl’s clitoral hood around the age of seven. Often, girls are tricked, believing they are on their way to a party or to get ice cream. It’s a painful ritual that can have long-term emotional, physical and sexual consequences. The mythology behind it is that it will somehow make a girl sexually pure.

Public discourse about khatna in the mainstream media is a recent phenomenon, starting around five years ago. As a result, conversations about this form of gender-based violence haven’t been normalized, and many survivors, like me, can feel uncomfortable talking about it. Some survivors I know have even been told by family or clergy to keep quiet and must remain anonymous in their activism. To make things more complicated, the moment of trauma often comes with a confusing, gas-lit message from beloved elders: nothing really happened — but don’t tell. This is similar to what might be conveyed to childhood sexual abuse survivors.

Growing up, my own household was not observant, but many in my extended family are, and I became a victim of khatna by family members who thought they were doing the right thing by circumventing my parents and taking me for the procedure. It’s worth stressing that elders don’t believe that they are doing harm. They might not be aware they are practicing a ritual that is denounced by all major religious groups and is illegal in most countries. They are simply following a religious rite and social norms. As activist groups continue to spread information, perhaps this will change.

Stepping into the Spotlight

“Seven” is my fourth novel, and so I knew what to expect during the promotion cycle. There would be media interviews, panels and book club meetings during which I’d be asked about the book’s inspiration and, more specifically, my personal connection to the work. In fact, one of the most common questions an author gets asked is, To what extent is your novel’s fictional content autobiographical?

With other books, it was simple to shrug and explain that my stories were 100% fiction, with observations from my social world mixed in. But with “Seven,” I wasn’t so sure I knew how to answer this question. Sharifa is a fictional character and not me. But did I want to come out as a khatna survivor? And if I did, how would I handle questions about the details of this trauma from well-intentioned and curious interviewers? While I’ve been an activist since 2015, I intentionally performed behind-the-scenes tasks and mostly declined anything that involved stepping into the spotlight. I was too afraid to speak publicly about my own experience.

As the release date approached, I felt pulled to find a way to speak as both a novelist and as a survivor. I wanted to discuss writing craft and the issues, and I knew that I could have more impact if I brought the personal into the conversation. This, however, kept me up at night, and took me back to therapy to sort out my feelings and the trauma’s impact. I practiced answering the most intrusive questions with journalist friends so that I could find my boundaries. And still, I was afraid. The old trauma messages about shame and silence endured.

And then something shifted. It was in the middle of the second interview, for a literary podcast, when I had a moment of epiphany. My body felt strong and my mind lucid. I realized that I was responding to the interviewer’s questions as though they were opportunities rather than discomforts or threats. I came to understand that this work of fiction was a vehicle to talk about khatna, to meaningfully contribute to raising awareness about female genital cutting/mutilation.

Perhaps a part of me woke up, a part of me that had been aching to tell, and to be listened to. The shame fell away and in its place was clarity. Now, when I discuss my book’s characters, setting and plot, I also share the following seven messages.

“Seven” is one of the first novels to focus on khatna. 

 Female genital mutilation/cutting 200 million women, children and non-binary kids in 92 countries. It’s estimated that at least 75% of the women in my community have experienced khatna.

 It happens across cultures, religions, race, class, education and rural/urban divides.

 It even happens to white Christian women in the US. If it’s tied to any culture, it’s tied to global patriarchy.

Its goal is to control sexuality and it has no medical benefit whatsoever. It can have long-term emotional, physical and sexual consequences.

 It is a human rights violation, a form of gender-based violence not unrelated to other forms of gender-based violence such as rape culture or sexual harassment, which all oppress women, girls and non-binary people.

 It’s up to all of us to normalize these conversations so that we can create change.

“Seven” has been received well. It has just been named a Chapters-Indigo Best Book of 2020. The Globe and Mail listed it as the Best Independent Read to Pick Up This Fall, and Ms. Magazine called it “fully feminist and ambitiously bold.” I’ve spoken at over 30 virtual events where I’ve talked about Sharifa, her cousins, her marriage … and khatna. I don’t brace myself, and I’ve even enjoyed these conversations. I hadn’t imagined that a book with subject matter that used to make me feel queasy would be read and reviewed so widely. And most of all, I hadn’t ever expected that “Seven” would help me become braver.

*[Correction: An earlier version identified “Seven” as the first ever novel to focus on khatna. Updated on 11/23/2020 at 10:50 GMT.]

*[Please visit   and to find out more about the issues discussed in this article.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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Since 2012, the Massachusetts Women’s Bar Association has been advocating for a state law that would protect girls from female genital mutilation and cutting (FGM/C). Yet to this day, no law has been put in place. It is estimated that over half a million girls and women in the United States are at risk of having some or all of their perfectly healthy external genitalia removed for non-medical purposes. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Massachusetts 12th in the nation in terms of the number of women and girls who have undergone or are .

I live in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and I am one of those women.

Growing up in a Dawoodi Bohra community, a religious sect within the Ismaili branch of Shia Islam, I was told it was a sensitive topic, one reserved to be spoken about by women only. I thought FGM/C was normal, and I understood that I was not supposed to mention it in large gatherings or to those outside the Bohra community. What we did was special. It was tradition. It was called khatna.

Not until high school did I connect the dots and understand that khatna was female genital mutilation. After doing research on FGM/C online, it dawned on me that what I had been brought up to believe was a religious or cultural practice was in actuality violence and, because I was seven when someone cut off that piece of my clitoral hood, that it was child abuse.

In graduate school for social work, I carried out a research project to better understand how and why it continues in the United States. Most women I interviewed said it was used to control their sexuality. Nowadays, I hear from proponents of FGM/C that it is done for health and hygienic reasons, though there is no proof it brings any health benefits. In fact, FGM/C can cause physical harm including pain, bleeding, shock, tetanus, genital sores, and long-lasting psychological harm including sexual disorders, fear of sexual intimacy, nightmares and post-traumatic stress disorder.

My research helped me to understand that FGM/C was a tradition that for generations had been normalized and passed on. Over time, communities had learned to minimize the harm, and in doing so had unintentionally sanctioned violence in the name of culture or religion. It is imperative that we unlearn these toxic lessons.

This past year, the #MeToo movement encouraged women to openly talk about sexual harassment and assault that was a result of their gender. The ripple effect led to Time magazine crowning the #MeToo movement person of the year for 2017. I too tapped into the power of women’s stories and collected dozens from women living in the US who underwent FGM/C so that we could collectively submit testimony to the Massachusetts Joint Committee on the judiciary proving that girls need protection here.

But even after all these women, including myself, have bravely shared our stories, and after law enforcement, two attorneys generals, six district attorneys, legal and medical professionals, child advocates and community groups stated their support for An Act to Protect Girls from Genital Mutilation — sponsored by State Senator Harriette L. Chandler during a hearing at the Massachusetts State house in October — the bill was sent to study, meaning most likely it will not move forward.

They are still not listening to us. The bills and our stories sit on a desk, unheard, undiscussed and, worst of all, silenced.

Massachusetts is considered to be a progressive state with respect to reproductive rights, anti-discrimination laws and equality issues. Our state is one of only 17 nationwide with public funding for abortion and one of only 20 states to prohibit discrimination in employment on the basis of sexual orientation. Yet I’ve been told that the reason the act will not move forward is that Massachusetts legislators lack the political will to recognize FGM/C as violence. The skeptic in me wonders if re-election has anything to do with their “political will.” There is a fear, a misconception that by passing this bill and saying FGM/C is illegal, we would be targeting existing vulnerable communities because FGM/C happens to Muslims, to immigrants, to those communities already targeted by the Trump administration.

My childhood comes back to me. The lessons of silence, of feigning ignorance, of keeping entrenched this violence, of passing it off as a cultural tradition. The Massachusetts legislature unknowingly teaches the same lessons. Like in my childhood, I am getting the sense that because cutting of a girl’s genitalia is connected to her religion and culture, we must tread carefully, we must not classify it as harm. We must ignore and keep quiet about the physical and psychological trauma that happens because this is tradition.

But by giving this justification is the Massachusetts legislature not just “othering” the issue? Does it imply that girls living in Massachusetts do not need protection? Historically, FGM/C has been performed on girls of all ethnicities, religions, economic statuses and education levels. Up until the 1950s, clitoridectomy was used to treat hysteria, mental illness, lesbianism and to stop masturbation. My friend is one woman who submitted testimony that FGM/C was done to her in the Midwest, in Christian America, because at the age of three she touched herself.

I can’t help but wonder whether if FGM/C continued to be prevalent among white communities then Massachusetts would make it more of a priority to pass legislation to protect women. We should not and cannot sanction violence in the name of culture or religion. And we can’t protect all girls in Massachusetts unless we openly condemn female genital mutilation and recognize it for what it truly is —Ěýviolence against girls.

By passing a law to ban female genital mutilation and cutting, the Massachusetts legislators would be telling us that they are listening to the women and girls living in their state, and that they are dedicated to empowering women, especially young and vulnerable girls who might be at risk for undergoing FGM/C. I hope for that to happen.

*[If you would like to support passing a law banning FGM/C in Massachusetts, please consider signing this Change.org petition – .]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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On September 3, an Egyptian lawmaker, Elhamy Agina, made an for the continuation of female genital mutilation (FGM), or . He claimed that women should “reduce their sexual desires” because Egyptian men are “sexually weak.”

I wasn’t shocked by this statement, but I was reminded once again of how too often when it comes to sexuality and violence that women are the ones held responsible.

Remember when on a local news interview in August 2012, discussing the possibility of abortion during instances of rape: “First of all, from what I understand from doctors, that’s really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

Not to go too off on a tangent, but a found that over 32,100 pregnancies resulted from rape each year, and some have found that rape survivors are more likely to become pregnant than women who have consensual sex. So how bogus was that claim?

Let’s also ignore that “legitimate rape” wordage for now, but the idea that a woman’s body shuts down the possibility of a pregnancy when she is raped puts the onus on the woman to defend herself and protect society against unwanted pregnancies.

Akin’s claim takes away any responsibility that the offender in this situation might have toward the woman who he chose to violate by raping her.

The Egyptian lawmaker, Elhamy Agina, does the same with his claim that and, therefore, women should undergo FGM because it helps “reduce a woman’s sexual appetite,” and by undergoing this potentially painful and life-threatening procedure, women will show they are standing by their man.

I’m tired of hearing the onus continually fall on women when it comes to anything relating to sex or violence. Women’s bodies and sexuality should not have to be altered because a man is unable to control himself.

Hearing this kind of rhetoric makes it sound like women are the saviors to men’s sexuality, but they are also the devil, the root of the problem. They must fix the problem. It also dismisses the fact that there are many loving and decent men around the world who are faithful to their partners, do not abuse, nor ask their wives to remove a part of their genitalia so they can have less sex.

I’m reminded of all those years that I worked with survivors of domestic violence, and how time and time again—whether in person, on the phone, through the media, from a friend, from a relative, from a stranger on the plane—people would continually ask, “Why doesn’t the survivor leave the abusive relationship?”

It maddens me that, once again, the person who was the victim—the one who was facing the emotional, sexual, financial or physical violence—was the one that was being judged with the question.

Stop Blaming the Victim

When I lived in San Francisco, domestic violence charges were brought up against the sheriff, Ross Mirkarimi, who on New Year’s. The media had a field day with the story, particularly because his wife didn’t leave him. Negative judgments were made against her character, and little attention was given to the reality that survivors of domestic violence often cannot leave an abusive relationship for a number of reasons—ranging from fear of losing custody of children, to fear of being hurt even more, to, even as unbelievable as it can be for some to understand, love.

The narrative has to change. We need to stop blaming the victim. All of us must be held accountable for our actions in perpetuating the kind of thinking that leads to different forms of gender violence being justified. In the case of FGM, it cannot be said that a harmful traditional practice needs to continue because it helps men, particularly when it comes at the costs of hurting women.

Women have a right to their bodies, to their sexuality, to their health. Men do too. All genders do. And we all have the responsibility to ensure that everyone is treated with respect, consideration and care. No more blaming the victim.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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Iraq has always been a country of both national and international upheavals. The frequent political changes have made Iraqis doubtful of their status, especially women. Time and again they were left homeless and in panic. They have endured the loss of dear ones, loss of a stable home, loss of their "self," and consequently loss of their identity.

Saddam Hussein’s reign witnessed major conflicts, including the eight-year-long Iran-Iraq War and the first Persian Gulf War. In 2003, the former ruler was deposed following the US-led invasion of the country. Ever since, the security situation has been very precarious with violence peaking in 2006 and 2007 and again in .

Violence Against Iraqi Women

During times of war, women are arguably the ones who are most affected by its trauma. Over the years, Iraq has become a battleground of death — sometimes caused by Americans, sometimes by other invaders or rivals like Iran, and sometimes due to internal political struggles.

As reported by The Guardian in 2007, there have been instances where dead women flooded hospitals but no one dared reveal their cause of death; these voices were silenced. They were said to have died in an "accident" when someone came to claim their bodies. Even today, sometimes they are unclaimed and rot away, unidentified.

The brutality of war and its effects upon Iraqi citizens are exemplified by a description of the in Iraqi Kurdistan. In its morgue, many female corpses could be found. The deaths came from a variety of causes: shooting, strangling, beatings and burning.

The face of a young woman in the Sulaimaniyah morgue clearly demonstrates the lack of humanity of these acts, her face contorted in a look of surprise even in death. As the manager of a women’s shelter testified, these ladies were probably burnt by their own families.

Iraq is in a situation of cultural and political anarchy. Local culture uses religion as a tool to impose a certain way of life on people, and the existing regime adopts and implements rules that serve the interests of the political elite. A general climate of lawlessness persists. “,” said Shameran Marugi, head of the non-governmental organization Iraqi Women’s Committee.

Women encounter verbal abuse and sometimes a hijab, the traditional Muslim headscarf. They also suffer from exploitation like trafficking and sexual slavery. Some Iraqi women still face genital mutilation — in contravention to the law which criminalized in 2011. Women who are thrown into prostitution are treated like criminals themselves. Even in , women face sexual and physical abuse.

The Right To Live

Earlier, in large parts of the country, Iraqi women were only able to move around while accompanied by a male escort. This situation has not changed much. There have been cases where rape was committed by these escorts and other armed groups. Some of these groups had direct links with the Iraqi government, while victims were thereafter killed. In small towns and villages, a woman cannot seek medical advice without the permission of a male authority in her family; if she needs to consult a doctor, a  is a requirement.

Social norms prevent women from going out alone because of their vulnerability to robbery, rape and murder. This makes war widows high-risk victims who often suffer from sexual assault and abuse.

Moreover, it has become normal for Iraqi women to receive death threats for working as hairdressers or tailors or for not wearing a hijab or not dressing "decently."  explained further: "In addition to equal rights we are now demanding the 'right to live.'"

Iraqi women have been murdered in unprecedented numbers since 2007, marking the post-execution period of Saddam Hussein. Cases of honor killings have increased over the course of time in Iraq. In Iraqi Kurdistan,  women were killed in the first six months of 2007 — three-quarters of them were burnt to death. When questioned, Iraqi doctors told UN investigators that most of these burnings were self-inflicted. : "The woman is unhappy, or there is domestic abuse, but the family doesn't listen. So she does it because she wants to draw attention to herself."   

Further reports point to a continuity of these patterns. The stated that during 2010, "76 women in the region were killed or committed suicide, while 330 were burned or self-immolated." A from the Iraqi Ministry of Human Rights reported 249 murders of women, including honor crimes. In Kirkuk, 62 women died of burns in 2011; amongst them, 20 were victims of explosions but the remaining 42 contributed to the high rate of suicide among women.

The latest  records that from July to December 2012, there were 237 cases of physical abuse of women. Apart from that, 87 cases of sexual abuse were reported. Moreover, there were 153 burn cases, of which 50 resulted in death.

The issues for which women are most penalized are alleged adultery or for having relationships with men prior to marriage. Therefore, in order to restore their "honor," these women are killed by their brothers, husbands and other male relatives. In most cases, these acts are carried out in utmost secrecy with the bodies of girls being dumped miles away. If the body is found, in some cases, the family would completely deny having a daughter.

Theoretically, there is a legal framework aiming to limit acts of this nature, one example being the KRG’s Family Violence Bill from 2011. But practice reports by  or UNAMI criticize the poor implementation of the law by state authorities, while the KRG has been urged to take immediate action to ensure the proper implementation of the law

The  itself summarizes: 

"Law continues to permit ‘honor’ as a mitigating factor in crimes of violence committed against women and family members. There is still no effective system of shelters and coordinated care for the victims of domestic violence, and services available to victims remain inadequate."

The US Invasion and Women’s Rights

In March 2004,  said: "The advance of freedom in the Middle East has given new rights and new hopes to women… the systematic use of rape by Saddam's former regime to dishonor families has ended." This gives an impression to the world that the American and British invasion of Iraq in 2003 helped improve the conditions of women in the country. But this is not the case.

In , where the US also adopted the rhetoric of empowering women, the Taliban were criticized in a statement from Amnesty International officials for its "systemic torture and abuse of women." In contrast to this, Alex Arriago, director of government relations for Amnesty International USA argues: "In fact, there are even more documented cases of women raped by members of the Northern Alliance than there are by the Taliban." The Northern Alliance was allied with the Western forces during Operation Enduring Freedom.

Even during Saddam Hussein’s oppressive rule, women in Iraq were recognized as one of the most liberated in the Middle East, having held important positions in education, politics and business. Their rights were protected by a statutory family law which made female activists of other countries envious of Iraqi women’s relatively advanced status. Women still compare the post-invasion trauma to their life under the former regime.

A , when interviewed by activist Zainab Salbi, : 

"During Saddam’s time I used to fear his sons… now I fear everyone. We could roam around and go wherever we wanted without worrying during Saddam’s time. Our fear was political. We couldn’t talk. We couldn’t express our views… but that fear has now spread to the streets. I can no longer walk there."

The situation was relatively favorable for women until the 2003 invasion, but the developments which took 50 years to unravel have now disintegrated.  argues: "Before the 2003 invasion, it was possible for a woman to lead a normal life as long as she followed state policy… It was even possible for a woman to engage in political and economic activities through the official Union of Iraqi Women.” After the invasion, the Union was dismantled because of its affiliation with Saddam Hussein’s former Ba'ath Party.

Iraqi women still face violence in every part of the country. On , unknown gunmen fired on three women, ranging between 20 to 30 years of age. Similarly, on July 10, women were killed in three different incidents — again by unknown gunmen.

The deterioration in the lives of Iraqi women has been caused by the political instability of war, which has often resulted in the deaths of family breadwinners. To bring up their children, Iraqi women sometimes have to resort to measures like prostitution which results in crimes such as sex trafficking. They cannot get good jobs due to their lack of education. Thus, women are marginalized and cannot contribute economically, socially and politically to Iraqi society.   

Rules and laws do exist but their implementation is poor in Iraq today. Women like Marugi are fighting for their rights — one of these is the "right to live."

Education can be the key to the institutionalization of women’s rights against these violations and oppression. A  recorded that 40.8% of Iraqi women fail to complete their education due to their family's refusal, 13.1% because of early marriage, and 4.2% for security reasons. This leads to a poor stature of education as the survey of  found that 57.5% can only read and write their names.

The Way Forward

Apart from education, Iraqi women need to be financially independent so they can at least fight back with their earnings. Women for Women International surveyed that 90% of women in Iraq are not engaged in productive work, highlighting the importance of helping them find employment.

There are many other ways in which women can help themselves apart from education and work. Being politically active can be a significant means for liberation. Lack of proper leadership in Iraq is one of the main reasons for the deteriorated conditions of Iraqis. Female leaders can be helpful in overcoming these atrocities.

Nobody knows how many Iraqi women will be able to take initiative like activists  and  have. Hopefully one day, the women of not only Iraq but of the whole world will be free from wars and bars — wars created by politics and the bars imposed by society and the imposition of religion.

The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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