Women in Islam Journal - Issue 7

WO M E N SIHA Journal / Issue No. 7

The Burden of Shame

How Sexual Violence Is Fuelling Sudan’s Collapse

Intersectional Invisibility The Bias against African Muslim Feminism

Dignity in Exile

A Somali Women’s Shelter in Kuala Lumpur

DOSSIER: Male Guardianship

IN ISLAM

EDITORIAL 05 T hree Questions to: Shiroug Idris

PEOPLE 06 D efending the Defenceless: Hauwa Ibrahim’s Journey as a Lawyer Under Shari’ah Law

11

10 “ Don’t Place the Lock of Silence on My Lips” Forugh Farrokhzad’s Poetic Resistance 15 H ania Mohamed: Leading the Change in Ethiopia’s Women’s Movement 18 M ama Nour: The Woman Who Became a Mother to Hundreds

EQUALITY 21 J eopardising Afghanistan’s Future Barring Women from Education and Employment 24 W omen’s Economic Empowerment in Somalia 27 H ow Guardianship Curtails Women’s Political Participation

19

30 A Mother’s Right to Choose Reforming Algeria’s Custody Laws for Child Welfare

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS 34 T hree Centuries of Travel Writing by Muslim Women A Book Edited by Siobhan Lambert-Hurley, Daniel Majchrowicz, and Sunil Sharma 38 R eclaiming Space in the Outdoors 42 D ignity in Exile: A Somali Women’s Shelter in Kuala Lumpur

43

52 2

Women in Islam, 2025

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL 46 T he Fight against Female Genital Mutilation A Testament to Collective Action in The Gambia and Ethiopia 50 W omen in War: Voices from Sudan and Ethiopia 54 T he Cost of Speaking Out Backlash to Activism and the Power of Solidarity 57 M en-struation A Poem by Alith Cyer Mayar 58 W here is Roqia?

A Mother’s Search in the Shadow of Sudan’s Conflict 61 O pen Letter: A Survivor’s Message to Her Perpetrator

63

PERSPECTIVES 64 N o One Heard Her Bleed Gender-Based Violence in the Ethiopia-Tigray Conflict 68 I ntersectional Invisibility: The Bias Against African Muslim Feminism 71 T he Burden of Shame How Sexual Violence Is Fuelling Sudan’s Collapse 75 F ilm Review: Dancing the Twist in Bamako

73

DOSSIER: GUARDIANSHIP 78 A Feminist Reading of Wilayah and Qiwamah 80 W ho Was the Guardian of the Queen of Sheba?

A Call for Reinterpreting Male Guardianship 83 “ Reforming the Law Is Not Enough” The Struggle to Lower Jordan’s Legal Guardianship Age 86 A Man Can Be a Feminist Too A Story of Guardianship, Justice, and a Father’s Love 88 I Know What the Watched Bird Posts Guardianship in the Digital Realm in Saudi Arabia 92 A Threat to Women’s Sexual and Reproductive Health Guardianship in Somaliland and Somalia

95

96 M y Grandmother, the Guardian Rewriting the Role of Women in Islamic Families

98 T he Echo 99 S IHA Publications

97 Women in Islam, 2025

3

IMPRESSUM

EDITORIAL

Publisher Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa (SIHA)

DEAR READER:

Editor-in-Chief Hala AlKarib Editorial Coordinator Lien Santermans Editorial Team Zemdena Abebe, Faizat Badmus-Busari, Maab Elamin, Ramatoulie Jallow, Yousef Timacade Proofreaders Célia Hitzges Translators Faisal Gorashy Contributors Wardah Abbas, Zemdena Abebe, Mawada Adam, Hala AlKarib, Faizat Badmus-Busari, Deka Barrow, Maab Elamin, Nafiesa Elfateh, Abdikadir Issa Farah, Ramatoulie Jallow, Siobhan Lamber tHurley, Asma Lamrabet, Eptisum Laskar, Alith Cyer Mayar, Ikram Mediche, Omnia Mustafa, Noor Salah, Lien Santermans, Amal Sarhan, Yara Spencer, Nature Springer, Tashny Sukumaran, Feven Teclehaimanot, Yousef Timacade, Misswha Qureshi Art Leyla Abdella, Hassan Al-Tayyeb, Hawa Arega, Sana Ashraf, Amel Bashir, Nusreldin Eldouma, Shadi Ghadirian, Sarah Handala, Ezra Harerimana, Suleiman Hassan, Murayeed Ibrahim, Meriem Idris, Shiroug Idris, Abenezer Isarel, Hussein Mirghani, Osman Obeid, Shahinaz Sabeel, Ayn Saed, Ibrahim Sayed, Hussein Salim, Phili Wedi Shire, Anne-Laure Pierrelot, Ghazal Qadri, Galal Yousif, Munira Yusuf Design Tarek Atrissi Design ISBN 978-9913-685-12-2 These compilations are copyright © by their respective authors or SIHA. All editorial content and graphics may not be copied, reused, reprinted or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the authors or SIHA. Request for permission should be directed to: Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa (SIHA) SIHA Regional Office Plot 2A Lugogo Lane (Bank Village) - Naguru P. O. Box 2793, Kampala UGANDA For more information, visit www.womeninislamjournal.com or www.sihanet.org.

To inquire about the Women in Islam journal, write to journal@sihanet.org.

Visit us on social media: X: @siha_journal Facebook: Women in Islam Journal Instagram: @women_in_islam_journal

This issue of Women in Islam is published under extremely difficult circumstances. We are living through an era marked by war, unchecked violence, and the erosion of our shared moral compass. The foundations of our societies are being shaken, fractured by the brutality and repression that have become terrifyingly normalised. Our convictions are not only tested.

More than ever, they are actively under siege.

Since 2023, Sudan has been engulfed in a catastrophic war, displacing more than half its population. Homes, schools, hospitals, and public institutions have been looted and bombed.

But beneath the rubble lies an even more insidious crisis: a targeted war on women and girls.

The conflict has intensified a deep-rooted culture of misogyny, turning women and girls into deliberate targets of sexual violence and enforced disappearances.

In many areas of the world, women are no longer just collateral damage—they are the battlefield. Nowhere is this more evident than in Darfur, where a campaign of genocide continues unabated. Mass killings and torture are tearing apart entire communities, leaving lasting, visible traces on the bodies of women and girls. Across the Global South, we are witnessing parallel tragedies: in Ethiopia’s Tigray, Amhara, and Oromia regions; in South Sudan and Somalia; in eastern Congo; in Myanmar; and in Palestine, where a brutal genocide has been raging for over two years. Today’s wars are no longer rooted in ideology, as meaningful disagreement based on beliefs has given way to polarisation and intolerance. Instead, they are driven by an impulse to erase and to annihilate those deemed inconvenient or ‘other’.

This violence is not happening in a vacuum. It is the bitter result of decades of global injustice: unchecked impunity, the oppression of the poor, deep-rooted inequality, and the normalisation of neocolonial cruelty and greed. The systematic exploitation and degradation of natural resources, alongside the lack of investment in youth, education, and healthcare, have created the conditions for mass instability and militarisation. These forces have not only undermined justice mechanisms and social trust—they have stripped us of our collective sense of moral responsibility.

The collapse of our societies was not sudden. The signs were all there: the steady rise of militarism, religious extremism, and authoritarianism. These trends were not temporary crises—they marked the unravelling of our social and political order. Now, the masks have fallen, revealing the true forces behind the global violence we are witnessing today: sheer avarice and a staggering disregard for human life. Across the African continent, new forms of colonial domination are unfolding. This time, under the guise of global investment and security partnerships, often enabled by corrupt local elites and foreign interests. What we are facing is not just a humanitarian crisis—it is an existential threat to our collective future.

And yet, African women have always resisted. Across generations, we have survived slavery, colonialism, post-independence authoritarianism, victimisation, and recurring cycles of military and civil strife. Now more than ever, we must reclaim this legacy of resistance and struggle. We must refuse to allow our feminist agendas to be co-opted by donor frameworks, state institutions, or symbolic gestures. The time has come to restore our grassroots power, to build feminist solidarities rooted not in charity, but in justice.

This means doing more than just talking. It requires us to confront the foundations of our oppression. We must challenge discriminatory family laws, dismantle legal and policy frameworks that silence us, and confront religious and cultural interpretations that have long held us back. We must carry on the fight for girls’ education, women’s economic and social protections, and equal access to resources with intersectionality, inclusivity, and compassion.

It is in this struggle that Women in Islam plays a vital role. This journal is more than a publication—it is a platform for collective memory, resistance, and vision. It amplifies voices that are too often silenced. It connects struggles across borders. And it insists on a future where Muslim women are shaping new systems of power.

In these pages, you will find essays, art, and analysis from powerful feminist thinkers and activists from the Horn of Africa and beyond. They speak with honesty and urgency about their lived realities, all while holding fast to feminist principles and a shared commitment to justice. We offer this issue as a contribution to the larger struggle. Because now, more than ever, our stories, our truths, and our visions for justice must be heard.

HALA ALKARIB Editor-in-Chief

4

Women in Islam, 2025

THREE QUESTIONS TO: GASLIGHTING Gaslighting is an insidious form of psychological manipulation that takes root in power imbalances. Abusers systematically feed their victims false information, causing them to question their reality—especially their abilities, agency, and sense of self.

Women who challenge patriarchal norms, in particular, may be made to doubt their own knowledge and experiences. This manipulation can occur at multiple levels, from personal relationships to workplace or institutional dynamics. By eroding women’s confidence and autonomy, gaslighting reinforces structural inequalities, making it even harder for them to reclaim their voices and assert their power.

79 Million THAT’S HOW MANY GIRLS and women in sub-Saharan Africa have been subjected to rape or sexual assault as children, according to UNICEF. More than one in five women in the region experience sexual violence before turning 18— the highest rate of any region in the world. The risks are even greater in fragile settings, such as areas with weak institutions, UN peacekeeping forces, or large refugee populations fleeing political or security crises.

Survivors often grapple with higher risks of sexually transmitted diseases, substance abuse, social isolation, and mental health challenges. Many also struggle to form healthy relationships.

UNICEF, “Over 79 Million Girls and Women in Sub-Saharan Africa Subjected to Rape or Sexual Assault,” UNICEF East and Southern Africa, April 24, 2024, https://www.unicef.org/esa/press-releases/ over-79-million-girls-and-women-sub-saharanafrica-subjected-rape-or-sexual-assault

Shiroug Idris “Drawing feels like an escape from reality” Shiroug Idris (27) is a Sudanese digital artist whose work draws heavily on African folklore and mythology. Her art reflects her lived experiences and emotions, which is what she believes gives it meaning. She is currently working on a graphic novel based on a well-known Sudanese tale.

Born in North Kordofan and raised mostly in Khartoum, Shiroug Idris also spent several childhood years in Uganda and Malawi: “Growing up in different African countries and being exposed to a variety of cultures and art forms has deeply influenced me.”

Over the past two years, I’ve had to move frequently because of the fighting, from Khartoum to North Kordofan, then to Medani, and finally to Kassala. I’m currently back in my hometown, holding onto the hope of returning to Khartoum soon.

She started drawing at a very young age, inspired mostly by what she saw on TV. “It was something I always enjoyed—an escape from reality. Even though art was my passion, I chose to go to medical school, thinking it would offer a more reliable source of income. Still, I never stopped drawing. By my third year at university, I had begun working as a freelance illustrator.”

These days, it’s harder to pick up a pencil and draw, as I find myself thinking, What’s the point?

The conflict has shaken my faith in many things, especially in Sudan’s future. And when I finally do find the will to create, something always seems to go wrong, like the electricity cutting out, which is especially frustrating since I work mostly digitally.”

What message does your piece of the woman holding the rose aim to convey?

Have you felt challenged by your gender or religious identity as an artist?

“My illustration was inspired by Sudanese women of the 1950s and 1960s, a time when women’s movements and activism were laying the foundations for the rights we know today.

I wanted to portray a woman who is both fearless and elegant, because that is how I see Sudanese women, both then and now. The rose she holds, with its thorns, symbolises the duality of womanhood: beauty intertwined with struggle and pain.”

“At times, I’ve felt the need to censor myself or avoid certain topics altogether for fear of backlash. Sometimes, I erase certain elements from a drawing to make it more ‘acceptable’ to a conservative society. In the future, I hope to no longer tone down my art and to make bolder statements through it, regardless of what others may think.”

How has the conflict in Sudan affected your art or your ability to create?

“The ongoing conflict has deeply affected my ability to create. I lost my home and comfortable workspace in Khartoum. Shortly after I left, our house was occupied and looted by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF)—a story that is sadly all too common for people in Sudan.

Women in Islam, 2025

5

PEOPLE

Defending the Defenceless Hauwa Ibrahim’s Journey as a Lawyer under Shari’ah Law

Hauwa Ibrahim is a pioneering human rights lawyer who has dedicated her career to defending women accused under shari'ah law in Nigeria. Her story is one of courage, defiance, and an unshakable belief in justice. As a law student, Hauwa's work shaped my understanding of the intersection between gender, Islamic law, and power.

Growing up in Lagos, Nigeria, I was always aware of gender inequality, but my experiences were mostly confined to the home—unequal expectations placed on boys and girls, the subtle ways in which my freedom was restricted compared to that of my male peers, and other limitations. It wasn’t until I left for university in Maiduguri, northern Nigeria, that I truly grasped the systemic inequalities that shaped the lives of Muslim women and girls.

“

There, I witnessed a clear prioritisation of male education and encountered child marriage not as an abstract issue, but as a lived reality. I visited the university’s teaching hospital and saw girls—children, really—who had been married off far too young and were now suffering from vesicovaginal fistula, a devastating childbirth injury. Even my own daily movements were restricted. Public transportation was suddenly offlimits—not because it was officially prohibited, but because no matter how modestly I dressed, it was never deemed ‘modest enough’ to avoid harassment. These experiences strengthened my commitment to advocating for women’s rights.

I wasn't just defending one woman—I was challenging a system that had long oppressed us.

6

Women in Islam, 2025

It was during this time that I first came across Hauwa Ibrahim—a lawyer and human rights advocate whose work would strongly influence my understanding of the intersection between gender,

Islamic law, and power. As a woman deeply rooted in the traditions of northern Nigeria, Hauwa defied the odds. She argued in courtrooms where women were barely allowed to speak, challenged rulings that others accepted as fate, and used her legal expertise to expose the gaps and inconsistencies in a system designed to punish women.

“My journey into law and advocacy wasn’t inspired by a grand plan; it was shaped by necessity and a series of unexpected events,” she recounts in an interview for the Women in Islam Journal. “Born in Gombe State and raised in a community where women’s voices were often silenced, I never imagined I would one day stand in court to defend the most vulnerable among us.”

The Case of Amina Lawal My first encounter with Hauwa’s work was through the Amina Lawal case in 2001, a landmark moment in Nigeria’s legal history. Amina, a woman from northern Nigeria, had been sentenced to death by stoning under shari’ah law for allegedly committing adultery. Her conviction rested solely on the fact that she had given birth outside of marriage, while the father denied paternity and walked free, facing no repercussions.

The inequality and injustice were staggering.

For me, as a Muslim woman, Amina’s case was more than just a high-profile trial; it was the moment I first understood how law and religion could be weaponised against women. As a first-year law student at the time,

Illustration by NUSRELDIN ELDOUMA

I was eager to learn how the law could instead be used to defend the defenceless. In Hauwa’s fight to save Amina, I found a powerful example of that.

“Amina was an ordinary woman from a small village, already ostracised for her situation. When I met her, she had no hope. She hadn’t asked for my help, but I offered it anyway,” Hauwa recalls. “The law she was accused of violating wasn’t even in effect at the time of her alleged

offense. Therefore, my defence hinged on challenging the retroactive application of the shari’ah penal code, uncovering procedural flaws, and exposing the lack of evidence. Eventually, we secured her acquittal.”

Amina’s case was not unique. It represented the struggles of hundreds of other women: “In defending her, I wasn’t just defending one woman—I was challenging a system that had long oppressed us.”

Women in Islam, 2025

7

PEOPLE

Taking on the Impossible

“

Before beginning her career as a lawyer in 1999, Hauwa served as a prosecutor for the Ministry of Justice in Bauchi State. When Zamfara State introduced shari’ah law in October 1999, she had already left her position at the ministry to open her own law firm—the first woman to do so in the region.

“It was an unprecedented move for a woman at the time, and the challenges were daunting,” she recalls. “Shortly after [opening my practice], I was approached

by Baobab, a women’s rights organisation, to take on the case of a young woman accused under shari’ah law. Women in my region were already losing ground—our spaces and opportunities were shrinking. I realised that if we didn’t stand up for these women, there would be no one left to defend them.”

For seven years, I was not allowed to speak in court.

Over the years, Hauwa has handled 157 cases, many involving women accused of adultery. “These women are often voiceless, powerless, illiterate, and desperately poor. Their circumstances deeply resonate with me because I was once like them—a girl born into a poor family who stumbled upon education almost by accident. This helps me relate to them.”

Voiceless Women, Unjust Courts For Hauwa, one of the most harrowing challenges of defending women is the courtroom itself. “Courts in northern Nigeria are often ill-equipped to handle cases fairly, especially those involving women. Many are remnants of the old area courts,” she explains.

These courts were established by states to administer customary and native law, resulting in proceedings

8

Women in Islam, 2025

dictated by tradition and local interpretations of shari’ah law.

“Women were not allowed to speak directly to the judges. Instead, they were confined behind plywood barriers, speaking only through tiny holes, their voices muffled, and their presence minimised,” Hauwa recalls.

“As their lawyer, I often faced the same silencing.

For seven years, I was not allowed to speak in court.

Imagine being a lawyer, armed with evidence and legal arguments, only to be told your voice is unwelcome.”

Hauwa had no other choice but to pass notes to male colleagues, instructing them on what to say: “They would deliver the arguments, often without fully understanding the legal intricacies, while I sat in silence. “This was not just frustrating, it was infuriating. I knew the law; I had studied it and lived it. But my gender rendered my voice irrelevant. This experience strengthened my resolve. I vowed to ensure that these women, silenced by poverty, tradition, and patriarchy, would find justice through my representation in courts.”

Guardianship and Gendered Injustice Male guardianship often underpins the legal and societal challenges women face in northern Nigeria.

In practice, every man—whether a father, brother, or neighbour—can wield authority over a woman’s life.

Guardianship is not just a religious concept; it is deeply tied to cultural traditions that seek to control women under the guise of protection.

“One of my most personal experiences with guardianship was with Wasila, the daughter of Amina Lawal,” Ibrahim says. “After Amina’s case, I adopted Wasila informally, as formal adoption is uncommon in our culture. Even though I took on the

role of her guardian, community members continued to insert themselves into decisions about her life. For her marriage, for example, elders sought my approval, but they also turned to unrelated male neighbours to give their final consent. This constant undermining of women’s agency is why we must question and reform these practices.”

Threats Advocating for women in northern Nigeria comes with significant risks. Throughout her career, Hauwa has faced severe threats, some from extremist groups like Boko Haram, who accused her of undermining shari’ah law. “There was even an open call for my

“

It was infuriating. I knew the law; I had studied it and lived it. But my gender rendered my voice irrelevant. stoning,” she says. “At the same time, several nongovernmental organisations I was supposed to be partnering with criticised me for overshadowing their work when I was interviewed by many reporters after Amina’s case. It made no sense to me.”

“What keeps me going in the face of such adversity is my faith and my daily commitment to doing good,” she says. “I wake up every morning asking God to give me the strength to make a positive difference, no matter how small. This philosophy has carried me through the darkest moments.”

A Vision for the Future Despite the challenges, Hauwa remains hopeful.

One of her recent projects, Mothers Without Borders, taps into the “soft power” of mothers in shaping future generations. “As women, we have a unique role in instilling values of compassion, justice, and equality in our children. If we can harness this power, we can begin to dismantle systems of oppression at their roots.”

Hauwa’s ultimate hope is that one day, women’s rights will no longer be a fight but a given. “I dream of a society where women can walk into a courtroom and speak for themselves, where guardianship is about care rather than control, and where every woman, no matter her background, can live with dignity and freedom. This is the legacy I strive to leave behind—a legacy of justice, courage, and unwavering belief in the boundless potential of women.”

FAIZAT BADMUSBUSARI is the Regional Programme Manager at SIHA Network. With a Doctor of Juridical Science from Emory University School of Law, she expertly navigates the crossroads of gender, law, religion, and social justice.

Faizat previously held significant positions at The Carter Center and various United Nations agencies.

FAIZAT BADMUS-BUSARI

At one point, the threats became so severe that the American ambassador urged her to leave Nigeria for her safety. “While I spent time abroad, studying and teaching at Yale and Harvard, my heart remained in Nigeria,” she recalls. She eventually returned, knowing that her work in Nigeria was far from over.

Women in Islam, 2025

9

PEOPLE

“Don’t Place the Lock of Silence on My Lips”

Forugh Farrokhzad’s Poetic Resistance I bury my hands in the garden I will grow, I know, I know, I know and swallows will lay their eggs in the hollow of my ink-stained fingers1

Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967) was revered as a cultural icon of feminine rebellion in pre-revolutionary Iran.

The poet was renowned for her outspokenness on female desire, gender relations, and the constraints of domestic life.

1

2

Forough Farrokhzad, “Tavallodi Digar” (‘Another Birth’), in Let Us Believe in the Beginning of the Cold Season: Selected Poems, trans. Elizabeth T. Gray Jr. (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 2022), p. 72, lines 47-50.

Mateo Mohammad Farzaneh, “Iranian Women: 19251980,” in Iranian Women and Gender in the Iran—Iraq War (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2001), p. 40.

3

Farzaneh, p. 41.

4

Farzaneh, p. 40.

5

Dominic Parviz Brookshaw and Nasrin Rahimieh, Forugh Farrokhzad, Poet of Modern Iran: Iconic Woman and Feminine Pioneer of New Persian Poetry, 2nd ed. (London: IB Tauris: 2023), p. 19.

6

Brookshaw, p. 2.

7

Brookshaw, p. 2.

8

Brookshaw, p. 2.

10

The Iranian Revolution of 1979 is often interpreted as a crucial dividing line between a previously open, freedom-loving, thriving society and a now closed, conservative, and oppressive state. The shadowed world of Pahlavi Iran (1925-1979) is now glorified as a progressive haven for its advancement of women’s rights and its modernisation programmes. However, the regime was deeply intolerant of independent reform initiatives.2 It frequently imprisoned, tortured, and executed members of anti-monarchical feminist groups.3 The improvement of women’s rights was therefore contingent on unwavering allegiance to the monarchy.4 The corpus of modern literature produced by Iranian women under Pahlavi rule reveals their struggle against this impediment as well as their painstaking negotiation between tradition and modernity in a male-dominated society with strict borders between the public and private. Farrokhzad was the first woman in known Persian literary history to write openly about the intimate and personal.5 Her individuality as a poet is exemplified by her flagrant rejection of social respectability and her insistence on pursuing artistic gratification at the expense of fulfilling familial duty.

As a result, she attracted as much disdain from the conservative public as she did admiration from the intellectual and modernised strata of society.

Women in Islam, 2025

Obstinate and Vulnerable Unveiling Farrokhzad was born in Tehran in 1935. She married a relative out of love in 1951 and gave birth to her son, Kamyar, a year later. She divorced in 1955 at the age of 20, and soon after, published her first volume of poetry, Asir.6 Her return to her paternal home and her subjection to her father’s disapproval led to a period of mental health struggles, resulting in her brief hospitalisation.7 In response, she immersed herself even more in her writing. The titles of her collections— Asir (Captive, 1955), Divār (The Wall, 1956), ‘Osyān (Rebellion, 1958), and Tavallodi Digar (Another Birth, 1964)—provide a telling snapshot of her life. Her last collection, Imān Biāvarim Beh Āghāz-e Fasl-e Sard (Let Us Believe in the Beginning of the Cold Season, 1974) was published posthumously, after she died in an automobile accident at the age of 32.8 Farrokhzad’s poetry is defined by her obstinate yet vulnerable unveiling of the emotional and sensual aspects of female subjectivity, revealing the daily desires, worries and struggles of the modern Iranian woman. Her frankness around topics traditionally confined to domestic spaces and her resolve to cultivate her poetic aspirations challenge society’s high regard for women’s modesty and invisibility. She defied the men in her life, resisting her husband’s attempts to restrain

Photo by SHADI GHADIRIAN

Women in Islam, 2025

11

PEOPLE

Brookshaw, p. 12.

9

her ambition to write and rejecting her father’s view of her as an immodest zan-e khiyābāngard (‘woman of the street’).9 In ‘Arūsak-e Kūkī’ (‘Wind-Up Doll’), she presents the devoted housewife as subservient and controlled, without a will nor a mind of her own:

Forough Farrokhzad, “Arūsak-e Kūk ī ”, (“Wind-Up Doll”), in Let Us Believe in the Beginning of the Cold Season: Selected Poems, trans. Elizabeth T. Gray Jr. (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 2022), p. 43, lines 53-60.

10

11

Farrokhzad, “Asir”, (“Captive”), in Let Us Believe in the Beginning of the Cold Season: Selected Poems, trans Elizabeth T. Gray Jr. (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 2022), pp. 3-4, lines 4-28.

15

I am a captive bird in the corner of this cage […]

I am thinking and I know that never will I have the resolve to leave this cage

Open the cage, so I can spread my wings [soaring] in the bright sky of poetry If you allow me to take wing I’ll become a rose in the rose-garden of poetry.13

A cage that she realises she must abandon:

Brookshaw, p. 92.

Kamran Talattof, “Iranian Women’s Literature: From Pre-Revolutionary Social Discourse to Post-Revolutionary Feminism.” International Journal of Middle East Studies, Vol. 29, No. 4 (1997): p. 539.

12

Much more significant than her views on the constraints of domestic responsibility, however, was her aim to change the perception of poetry as a male-dominated art, using the medium itself to resist conventional portrayals of women as passive, meek, and voiceless.12 Her poem Osyān (‘Rebellion’) reveals her literary prowess: Don’t place the lock of silence on my lips For I must tell to all my [innermost] secret To all the people of the world I must make known The fiery cadences of my song.

Farrokhzad, “‘Osyān” (“Rebellion”), Asir (Captive), lines 13-20, quoted in Brookshaw, p. 28.

14

The Pursuit of Poetry

The woman she portrays here is endlessly lifeless and immobile. Feigning contentment, her true feelings remain dormant. In Asir (‘Captive’), she contemplates her own imprisoning marriage:

Brookshaw, p. 21.

12 13

One can be just like mechanical dolls and see the world with two glass eyes In a cloth-lined box with a body filled with straw one can sleep for years in folds of lace and sequins With every squeeze of a lecherous hand one can spontaneously cry out “Ah, I’m very lucky!”10

her son, for whom she has carefully embroidered their now-ruined nest. Poetry is thus equated with light, one that unmasks the facade of a happy life and reveals the need for change.

I am the candle whose burning heart lights up a ruin If I choose silence I will shred a nest11 She eventually recognises that her obedience will only cause more unhappiness at home, especially for

Women in Islam, 2025

The cage in this poem recalls that of ‘Captive’. The persona, however, is now more assertive in her quest for aesthetic expression. Her authorship is presented not merely as a feminist practice, but as an essential feature of her existence—one she is determined never to abandon. It is hence Farrokhzad’s poetic persistence, more than her openness about the realm of the intimate, that defines her rebellion and epitomises her identity as poet. Her rejection of the

confinements of domestic life thus only serves to reinforce her broader pursuit of agency, equality and voice in a patriarchal world.

The Question of Feminist Practice It is curious, therefore, that Kamran Talattof, a prominent scholar of modern Iranian women’s literature, does not consider Farrokhzad a feminist.14 He insists that though her poetry “may be construed as a feminist assertion,”15 the poet “never placed those daily experiences in a broader socio-political or genderrole framework” nor “[conceptualised] her agonies in explicit feminist terms”.16 To Talattof, feminism is an expansive and specifically political discourse, one that comprises “theory, advocates, organisation, and social resources […] devoted to the implementation of […] equality.”17 Farrokhzad once mentioned that “if you speak of artistic merits, I think gender cannot play a role. […] if those who choose art to express their inner self, feel they have to do so with their gender in mind, they would never progress in their art […]. [I]f I keep thinking, oh I’m a woman and I must address feminine issues rather than human issues, then that is a kind of […] self-destruction.”18 Peculiarly, Talattof, quoting this very segment, argues that by dismissing the importance of gender identity, Farrokhzad “complies with the committed literary notion that honoured sexually objective criteria in literary criticism.”19 Thus, though she considers it

“

Farrokhzad was the first woman in known Persian literary history to write openly about the intimate and personal. her mission to “destroy the walls that confine women,” gender hierarchy remains unaddressed.20 Clearly, however, Farrokhzad requests that she be respected first and foremost as an artist and poet, rather than as a woman. To her, gender plays no role in the analysis of her poems because they stand on their own merit.21 This is not to say that the content of her poems, which largely revolves around gender hierarchy and women’s independence, is insignificant. On the contrary, these themes lie at the heart of her work and must be heeded.

Additionally, Farrokhzad never intended her poetry to be limited to private musings, but instead aspired to give voice to the voiceless: “[W]hat happens after we commit our poems to the page? We must […] feel that we have made a difference […] But how can one […] expect an answer from a society that is shapeless, without an ideal, refusing any sort of responsibility […]? The only way to survive is that one should reach such a state of detachment and maturity that he or she can become both a builder of and a mouthpiece for her world, both an observer and a judge.”22

AMAL SARHAN is an MSc Comparative Literature graduate from the University of Edinburgh, specialising in modern Persian literature and film. Her research explores the relationship between artistic expression and political resistance in the context of censorship, surveillance and oppression in Pahlavi and postrevolutionary Iran.

Women in Islam, 2025

13

PEOPLE

16

Brookshaw, p. 93.

17

Brookshaw, p. 93.

18

Furugh Farrukhzad and Sholeh Wolpé, Sin: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad, 1st ed.

(Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2007), p. xxvii.

Talattof, p. 539.

19 20 21

Talattof, p. 539.

Farrukhzad and Wolpé, p. xxvii.

Bavandpour, Majmooeh assareh Forugh Farrokhzad, 2, 67, quoted in Furugh Farrukhzad and Sholeh Wolpé, p. xxix.

22

Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” trans.

Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen, Signs, vol. 1, no. 4 (1976): p. 875.

23

24

Cixous, p. 879.

Adrienne Rich, “When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re-Vision,” College English, vol. 34, no.

1 (1972): p. 23.

25

26

Rich, p. 23.

Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life (Durham: Duke University Press, 2017), p. 12.

27

28

Ahmed, p. 1.

29

Ahmed, pp. 3-4.

14

Talattof’s statement therefore appears odd at best.

Though Farrokhzad does not mobilise a political movement or seek to prompt structural social or political reforms, her drive to initiate a new consciousness around women’s experiences, to call for a revision of established attitudes, to invite her readers, women and men, to begin an internal questioning and reordering of values, is perhaps more true to the burden of feminist work.

“

Farrokhzad requested that she be respected first and foremost as an artist and poet, rather than as a woman.

Feminism and Poetry The intermarriage of feminism and authorship is not new; many feminist theorists have categorised feminism as a literary practice and an effort to reclaim a repressed reality. Hélène Cixous, for instance, urged women to “write her self […] into the world and into history—by her own movement.”23 The practice of writing, traditionally understood as a masculine activity, becomes “the very possibility of change.”24 Literature thus embodies a rejection of the masculine ideals that police societal thought. Adrienne Rich

Women in Islam, 2025

refashions the practice of writing as “re-naming,”25 explaining that the customary perception of womanhood is “in direct conflict with the subversive function of the imagination.”26 Sara Ahmed similarly defines feminism as poetry itself, as the act of “[reassembling] histories.”27 She dispels the notion that feminism is essentially linked to public protest, arguing that it includes “loud acts of […] rebellion as well as the quiet ways […] of not holding on to things that diminish us.”28 A feminist movement can thus occur “in the very places that have historically been bracketed as not political: in domestic arrangements, at home”29, emphasising the power of domestic spaces as loci for action.

One must therefore not restrict the visage of feminism to a stern and sonorous countenance; rebellion often lies in the hushed but simmering thoughts of women (and men) who begin to ponder the condition of their existence and what it might otherwise be. The nature of feminist work lies not only in the advocacy for women’s rights, but also in words, written by women sitting behind desks and partaking in the silent but vital practice of self-expression, claiming voices that, though not thunderous, are momentous. Indeed, there exists a grave misconception in Talattof ’s analysis. Farrokhzad remains inspirational not merely because of her exploration of the private, but because she is focused on her personal calling as a poet—on becoming her own unique rose in the rose garden of poetry.

AMAL SARHAN

Leading the Change in Ethiopia’s Women’s Movement: Hania Mohamed In a space often marked by rivalry and hostility, Hania Mohamed (34) embodies empathy and solidarity. As a groundbreaker in Ethiopia's women's movement, she leads with both humility and courage, bridging divides between women from diverse backgrounds. She is the founder and director of the Beza for Women Development Association, a non-governmental organisation (NGO) dedicated to addressing gender-based violence (GBV).

Hania’s journey into activism began over two decades ago in Dessie, Ethiopia, when a training session by an NGO sparked her desire to address the widespread GBV in her community. Alongside her friends, Hania took action. “We used traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremonies to bring the community together,” she recalls. “We performed dramas, initiated dialogue about GBV, and shared knowledge through training sessions.”

What started as a student-led movement of 25 members has grown into an organisation that has impacted countless lives. Today, Beza for Women Development Association stands as a pillar of support for GBV survivors, offering legal aid, medical treatment, and psychosocial support. “Living 400 kilometres away from the capital, Addis Ababa, this was not an easy task as a woman—especially as a Muslim woman. But the cause was greater than the challenges. Now, the community recognises us as Jegnit, Sheroes.”

“

The community now recognises us as Jegnit, Sheroes. garment-making businesses or selling spices, vegetables, and household goods. We also promote safe alternatives for abortion and refer women to clinics like MSI Reproductive Choices.”

Another pivotal moment in Hania’s activism came a few years ago, when Beza organised a peaceful

Achievements That Inspire Hania discusses Beza’s efforts with over 200 women who previously performed unsafe abortions or practiced female genital mutilation (FGM). “Many of these women are considered community elders in Dessie and inherited FGM as an income-generating activity. Thanks to our training programmes, they’ve transitioned to alternative livelihoods, such as running

Photo by ABENEZER ISAREL for SIHA Network

Women in Islam, 2025

15

PEOPLE

“

Photo by ABENEZER ISAREL for SIHA Network

demonstration after the rape and murder of a schoolgirl by a retired soldier. “Because of police inaction, the school reached out to us to help secure justice for the victim. By gathering evidence and soliciting free legal aid, we were able to file a case against the perpetrator, which led to a 14-year prison sentence—a landmark decision at the time.”

I'll never forget the day a man fired a gun at me in court.

“Community elders often prefer to resolve GBV cases through traditional mediation, fearing that formal legal procedures erode the societal fabric,” Hania explains. “This creates a culture of impunity, which leaves survivors bearing the burden of shame.

Some are forced to migrate or live in isolation. Some

16

Women in Islam, 2025

even take their own lives. Securing such a heavy prison sentence in this case was thus a breakthrough.”

Strategies for Change Beza’s approach is both innovative and deeply rooted in Ethiopian culture. From coffee ceremonies to drama and music, the organisation uses Ethiopian customs to drive change. Social media and partnerships with women’s organisations amplify their message, creating a ripple effect across the Amhara region and beyond.

“Our impact extends beyond the local level,” Hania says. “We’ve formed the Amhara Women’s Rights Federation, a network that includes legal experts, entrepreneurs, women with disabilities, writers, and others. Together, we advocate for women’s rights,

“

My faith infuses my activism with a unique perspective. mobilise resources, and build peace. We also provide capacity-building for our members.”

Beza’s work has inspired a broader movement. “Seeing young girls join the fight against GBV makes me proud,” Hania says. “By shattering stereotypes, I want to show that women can do anything. For instance, I was the first woman to drive a car in town, alongside Beza’s female driver. I want to lead by example.”

Courage in the Face of Adversity Hania’s journey has not been without peril. As a Muslim woman advocating for change in a patriarchal society, she has faced discrimination, threats, and even attempts on her life. “Many close to me have warned me that my work is not permitted by our religion.

I’ve received many threats from community elders, perpetrators, and husbands who fear their wives will be influenced by our efforts.”

“I’ll never forget the day a man fired a gun at me in court,” Hania recounts. “We were helping a sex worker file a case against a soldier who brutally abused her.

The perpetrator threatened us and tried to force us into mediation. When we refused, he brought a gun to the hearing. I was fortunate to survive, but it was

terrifying.” Through such experiences, Hania has learnt to take more calculated risks. “We now focus on strategic legal advocacy in collaboration with other civil society organisations, avoiding direct confrontation with perpetrators.”

Faith and Feminism Hania’s faith as a Muslim woman is central to her activism. Inspired by her devout mother, who taught other women in their community, Hania draws strength from her belief in justice and equality. “In my society, GBV and inequality are often dismissed or falsely justified in the name of Islam. But Islam does not condone injustice,” she asserts. “To the contrary, it calls on us to stand with the oppressed.”

Hania’s faith infuses her activism with a unique perspective, which resonates deeply with other Muslim women. This has helped her create safe spaces for Muslim women to discuss equality and justice within the mosque and through du’a (prayer). At the same time, her inclusive approach bridges religious divides.

“I’ve fostered a culture of empowerment among Muslim and non-Muslim women, encouraging them to assert their rights and challenge the status quo.”

ZEMDENA ABEBE is a leading Ethiopian activist and advocate for gender justice and human rights.

A Mandela Washington Fellow, she serves as the Country Coordinator for SIHA Network Ethiopia and sits on ActionAid Ethiopia’s advisory council.

Recognised among Africa’s Top 100 Most Influential Women, she champions intersectional feminism and movement building.

“Women have boundless potential,” Hania says.

“Together, we can dismantle systems of oppression and build a society rooted in equality and justice.”

ZEMDENA ABEBE

Women in Islam, 2025

17

PEOPLE

Mama Nour: The Woman Who Became a Mother to Hundreds In Sudan, where social norms often push women and children into the margins, Nour Al-Siyouti has chosen a different path—one of courage and compassion. As the founder of Sham'ah (Arabic for 'Candle'), Nour has dedicated her life to caring for mothers and children without family support. Her foundation offers them a social safety net, and helps them obtain legal recognition through official identity papers, as well as access to health insurance.

NAFIESA ELFATEH is a Sudanese writer, gender advocate, and peace studies trainer. She has experience in journalism with Al-Democratic and Al-Midan newspapers, and as a short story writer. She currently works with the SIHA Network and holds a master’s in Business Administration, while also pursuing a master’s in Gender and Peace Studies.

Sham’ah takes a distinct approach: it not only supports women in situations of non-consensual or consensual pregnancies outside of marriage but also seeks accountability from the men involved and state protection for the women and their children. At the heart of Sham’ah’s mission is a deeply rooted Islamic and Sudanese cultural principle: Al-Sutra—a concept of protection, dignity, and discreet care. This principle underpins efforts to ensure that these women and children can build stable futures within conservative communities.

But Nour’s story is not one of principles alone. It is personal. Abandoned as a baby and raised in orphanages, she lived the very struggle she now works to end.

Today, at 51, she is lovingly known as ‘Mama Nour’— an extraordinary Sudanese woman and a symbol of resilience and refuge for the women and children society too often shuns.

A Childhood in Institutions Born in Khartoum, Nour’s life began in social care institutions. She spent her early years at the Maygoma Orphanage before moving to the SOS Children’s Village, where she was raised under a ‘surrogate family’ model. In this system, five to seven children lived with a designated ‘mother’ and ‘aunt’, forming small family units within a village of more than 20 homes.

A turning point came when she was selected to attend Dar Al-Hanan kindergarten, led by pioneering director Fatima Saad-Eddin, who strongly believed in integrating children without family support into mainstream education. This experience exposed Nour to children

18

Women in Islam, 2025

who lived with their biological parents. At just five years old, it crystallised her sense of otherness and opened a floodgate of formative questions.

Each morning, she watched her classmates being dropped off and embraced by their parents, often coming from affluent Khartoum neighbourhoods like Amarat and Riyad. Nour, on the other hand, was driven to school by ‘Uncle Ali’, the orphanage driver. As she observed how the other children spoke with their parents and the clothes they wore, she began to wonder why she was so different.

One day, she asked Mama Fatima, the kindergarten director: “Who are these people who come with the children in the morning and take them away at the end of the day? Where do they go?” Fatima explained, “Those are their mamas and babas. They go home, just as you go to your home at the orphanage.”

It was the first time Nour had heard the words ‘mama’ and ‘baba’. With the innocence of a five-year-old, she asked, “What do the words ‘mama’ and ‘baba’ mean?

And where are my mama and baba?” Nour recalls the look of distress on Mama Fatima’s face as her eyes welled with tears. “Nour,” she replied gently, “your mama and baba are in heaven.”

Mama Fatima explained what heaven was and told Nour that she would meet her parents there one day.

From that moment on, Nour stopped asking about them.

She decided her parents did not exist in this world.

Instead of searching for them, she chose to build her own identity, one rooted in purpose and service to children

in similar circumstances, to show they deserve a life of dignity, love, and care.

She dedicated herself to her education and work, knowing that she didn’t have the luxury of trial and error like others.

“Our situation is special,” she states.

“You either get it right, or you die.”

Founding Sham’ah: A Candle in the Dark In 2007, in the city of Sennar, Nour founded the Sham’ah Foundation. Now married and raising her own family, she felt a deep calling to extend her care far beyond her household. Drawing on her own lived experience, she knew firsthand that institutions alone could not meet the needs of abandoned or unsupported children, especially those who might never even make it to a shelter.

Sham’ah was created to fill that gap and combat the complex stigma and challenges faced by these children and women who have survived violence and exclusion.

The foundation provides health, psychological, and legal services to children without parental care and survivors.

Sham’ah began its work at the height of the ruling Islamic regime’s power, a time when discussing issues of violence or defending women and unsupported children was fraught with risk. Despite the sensitivity of the subject, Nour and her team managed to persuade officials in social care and the public prosecution that their work served the greater good of society.

Artwork by SHIROUG IDRIS

Its first major milestone came in 2011, with the establishment of Sudan’s first Safe House, located in Khartoum. It became a sanctuary for mothers and children, offering them a safe space until they could be reintegrated into their communities.

A Vision Rooted in Justice and Accountability Sham’ah’s work goes beyond care—it challenges deeply ingrained social norms. Its approach seeks to hold fathers accountable, regardless of whether the pregnancy was consensual or the result of violence. This recognition not only protects the rights of the child, but also helps shift social perceptions, enabling women and children to navigate society safely. “A child’s existence is a divine decree,” Nour says. “Children are not criminals. No religion or belief system condemns them.” Sham’ah asserts that full recognition of the child is the father’s moral and social responsibility.

Sham’ah also rejects the notion that mothers—whether victims of sexual violence or participants in a consensual act—should be punished or judged. Many of the women

Women in Islam, 2025

19

EQUALITY

Sham’ah supports are in the later stages of pregnancy.

They are suffering alone and are terrified of the stigma.

Some consider abortion; others even starve themselves in the hope of preventing the baby from growing.

“Blaming her only opens the door to more abuse,” Nour explains. “Our role is to stand with her—to empower her to raise her child in safety, and to introduce that child to society as a worthy individual.”

Sham’ah in the Face of War When war broke out in Sudan on 15 April 2023, Sham’ah had to adapt quickly. Nour and her team evacuated mothers and children from Khartoum to the city of Wad Madani, using all the organisational experience they had built over the years.

“

A child's existence is a divine decree.

Children are not criminals.

But the safety in Wad Madani was short-lived. After the Rapid Support Forces entered the city, the team was forced to flee once again, this time to Port Sudan. With the help of the International Organization for Migration and other partners, they transformed an abandoned government building into a shelter.

“We evacuated 45 mothers and children from Khartoum,” Nour says. “All of them have since returned to their communities and families, and some of them have even married. Now, we are welcoming new survivors. Our current capacity, after a room was renovated by the SIHA Network, is 50 mothers and their infants.”

An Ongoing Struggle Against Stigma and Scarcity Despite its impact, Sham’ah faces immense challenges.

The social stigma surrounding children born outside

20

Women in Islam, 2025

of marriage and survivors of sexual violence remains a major barrier to reintegration. Legal hurdles also persist, especially when it comes to obtaining official documents for these children, even though Article 5 of Sudan’s Civil Registry Act permits the registration of all children at birth.

Financial limitations further strain the organisation and restrict its expansion. The foundation relies on partnerships with organisations like the Sudanese Family Planning Association for Health Services, UNICEF, the SIHA Network, and Habitat for Humanity. Other needs are met through community partnerships, individual donations, and some official bodies.

“We Are the Ones Who Carry This Pain” What sets Sham’ah apart is that its founder is not an outsider to the struggle—she is its embodiment. She and her team do not work with the usual detachment of activists or advocates, but with the instincts and drive of mothers and survivors who have experienced the pain of exclusion and stigma firsthand.

“Sham’ah knows its path forward,” Nour continues.

“We need the support of humanitarian, international, and governmental institutions to sustain our work.

This is a painful cause, and I am one of those who carry this pain.”

Despite all the challenges, Nour believes that Sudanese society has the capacity to give these women and children the safe future they deserve. Her call to action is clear: “Give these children their official documents. Give them their right to education, to healthcare, to dignity. Let them grow up feeling truly human.”

NAFIESA ELFATEH

Jeopardising Afghanistan’s Future Barring Women from Education and Employment

Illustration by ANNE-LAURE PIERRELOT

After years of devastating war and failed political processes in Afghanistan, the Taliban swiftly seized control of the country, capitalising on the power vacuum left by the rushed withdrawal of the U.S. and its allies. Their first act—characteristic of military regimes—was to use women and girls as a tool for asserting control, by barring them from education and employment.

Despite global efforts to protect the rights of Afghan women, an isolated militant terrorist group was able to erase one of the most fundamental human rights:

access to education. By depriving half the population of schooling, they have jeopardised Afghanistan’s future for generations to come.

Unfortunately, this dangerous violation is not confined to Afghanistan. Around the world, militant groups are curtailing women’s rights—restricting access to sexual and reproductive healthcare, stifling freedom of thought, and downplaying violence against women. We are living in an increasingly precarious reality. This article raises a critical and unsettling question: Why is nobody speaking out?

SPRINGER NATURE Reproduced with permission from Springer Nature.

First appeared in: Nature 633, 494 (2024)

Women in Islam, 2025

21

EQUALITY

“

World leaders do not attribute the same degree of importance to the rights of girls and women as they do to other issues.

Why aren’t there talks with the Taliban about getting women and girls back into education?

World leaders are restarting their engagement with the Taliban—yet the rights of half of the population is not on their official agenda.

1

2

Emma Graham-Harrison, “‘We Will Never Stop Fighting’: Why Afghan Women Have Risked Their Lives to Attend a Summit in Tirana,” The Guardian, September 13, 2024, https://www. theguardian.com/ global-development/2024/sep/13/ we-will-never-stopfighting-why-afghan-women-haverisked-their-livesto-attend-a-summit-in-tirana.

United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA), Special Assessment Report: November 2023 (New York: UNAMA, November 2023), https:// unama.unmissions. org/sites/default/ files/2023_11_sg_ special_assessment_report.pdf.

22

Three years after the Taliban took over Afghanistan, systemic discrimination against girls and women, including violence, is rampant. Girls remain locked out of education once they reach the age of 12 and women are banned from most jobs, including nearly all forms of research and teaching. The list of prohibitions on women has been extended to include speaking or singing in public. In September 2024, some 130 women attended a conference in Tirana, Albania—the largest public gathering of Afghan women who met to discuss the crisis since the takeover. “In our country, we now live like prisoners,” one delegate told The Guardian.1 This shocking situation is made worse by the fact that the international community has no official mechanism or named initiative for talking with the Taliban about getting girls and women back to their lecture halls, libraries and laboratories. In an August 2024 interview with the BBC, Richard Bennett, the United Nations special rapporteur for Afghanistan, said that there are no formal talks between the Taliban and the international community to return girls and women to education. He said: “The elephant in the

Women in Islam, 2025

room is why is there no working group [between the Taliban and other nations] to look at human rights and women’s rights.”

This is rather revealing. It confirms what researchers and human-rights organisations have been saying: world leaders do not attribute the same degree of importance to the rights of girls and women as they do to other issues. The Taliban have banned Bennett from entering the country. Where is the outrage from major world capitals?

This situation overall is completely unacceptable.

The continued denial of rights also goes against a recommendation to the UN Security Council, the organisation’s highest decision making body,

by UN Secretary-General António Guterres.2 Last November, Guterres told council members that the Taliban needed to comply with international law— including giving women the right to study and work without restriction—to be recognised as Afghanistan’s legitimate government.

This cannot continue. If it does, the international community will be complicit in gender apartheid, which might soon be classed as a crime against humanity by the UN.3 Since the Taliban takeover, the number of students in Afghanistan’s 167 public and private universities and higher-education institutes has more than halved, from 430,000 to just 200,000 students since 2021, according to data published by the UN science and cultural organisation UNESCO, based in Paris.

More than 2.5 million girls are already out of school, and if the education ban persists, that number could rise to more than 4 million by 2030, the UNESCO data show.

At the same time, a prolonged drought is contributing to severe food insecurity—with one in four people not knowing where their next meal will come from. The World Food Programme has put out an urgent appeal for US$617 million. This must be provided without delay. To be clear, humanitarian aid must never come with strings attached.

No other country recognises the Taliban as Afghanistan’s legitimate government, and nor does the UN. But this doesn’t mean that relations are frozen. It’s the opposite, with nations starting to reboot trade and diplomacy with the country. Last week, work started in Afghanistan on a pipeline that will send gas from Turkmenistan to India. In the same week, it was reported that the Taliban are looking to buy military hardware from Russia. And China is helping the Taliban to access some of the world’s largest copper deposits, southeast of Kabul. It’s a missed opportunity that these initiatives are not contingent on any movement on the education ban.

There are separate talks taking place hosted by the UN and Qatar. But here, too, the hosts agreed to the Taliban’s demands that no women’s organisations

“

If this continues, the international community will be complicit in gender apartheid, which might soon be classed as a crime against humanity by the UN.

be represented and that the agenda for these talks would exclude education. The Taliban are seeking international recognition, including membership of the UN. Afghanistan desperately needs trade deals to revive an economy that is on its knees. Yet, it is unacceptable that the international community has effectively accepted Taliban conditions that there will be no formal talks on the education ban.

Taliban spokespeople say that they are listening to their “sisters” and working on a solution. No other country that has Islamic law as part of its legal system bans girls and women from education. When asked, representatives of the international community say that they raise the education ban with the Taliban at every available opportunity. This is better than nothing, but warm words of support are little comfort to the millions of girls and women who are in severe distress. For most women, the future is too worrying to contemplate. Researchers are even reporting examples of women contemplating taking their own lives.4 There needs to be a mechanism for talks to end the education ban, with objectives, scheduled meetings and agreed timelines. It is hard to see how progress will be made if education is not even on the agenda.

In his report to the UN on 9 September 2024, Bennett said: “The Taliban appear to have taken a direction that only leads back to the appalling conditions of the late 1990s.”5 The international community must unite and stand up for Afghanistan’s girls and women, and not let the Taliban dictate the agenda.

SPRINGER NATURE

3

4

5

United Nations, Report of the Secretary-General on the Situation in Afghanistan and Its Implications for International Peace and Security, UN Doc. G24/016/54 (New York: United Nations, 2024), https://documents. un.org/doc/undoc/ gen/g24/016/54/pdf/ g2401654.pdf.

Abdul Qadim Mohammadi et al.

“Female Education Ban by the Taliban: A Descriptive Survey Study on Suicidal Ideation, Mental Health, and Health-Related Quality of Life Among Girls in Afghanistan.”

Journal of Public Health 46, no. 3 (September 2024): e439–e447. https:// doi.org/10.1093/ pubmed/fdae111.

“Comprehensive Efforts Needed to Stop Destructive Cycle of Impunity in Afghanistan,” Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), September 2024, https://www.ohchr. org/en/press-releases/2024/09/ afghanistan-comprehensive-efforts-needed-stop-destructive-cycle-impunity.

Women in Islam, 2025

23

EQUALITY

Women’s Economic Empowerment in Somalia: Barriers and Opportunities 1

2

3

4

5

Federal Government of Somalia, Somalia Education Sector Analysis: Assessing Opportunities for Rebuilding the Country through Education, IIEP-UNESCO Dakar, 2022.

Lifos - Centre for Country Information and Country Analysis in the Migration Area, Somalia: The Position of Women in the Clan System (Version 1.0), Swedish Migration Agency, April 2018. http://lifos.migrationsverket.se.

Somalia National Bureau of Statistics, Federal Government of Somalia.

Women and Men in Somalia, 2nd ed.

2022. https://nbs. gov.so/wp-content/ uploads/2023/07/ Somali-Gender-Statistics-Booklet-2nd-edition-2022.pdf.

Altai Consulting for IOM Somalia, Youth, Employment, Migration in Mogadishu, Kismayo and Baidoa, February 2016. https://www. iom.int/sites/g/ files/tmzbdl486/ files/country/docs/ IOM-Youth-Employment-Migration-9Feb2016.pdf.

African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM), Somali Women’s Participation in Politics and Public Life: Research Report, November 2016. https:// amisom-au.org/ wp-content/uploads/2016/12/ Somali-Womens-Participation-in-Politics-and-Public-Life. pdf.

24

In Somalia, women face significant barriers to education, employment, and financial resources due to deeply entrenched cultural, socioeconomic, and institutional factors. Patriarchal norms grant men dominant decision making power within households, hindering women’s ability to participate fully in social, economic, and political spheres. Despite policy efforts like the Somalia National Gender Policy, progress remains slow, underscoring the need for comprehensive reforms.

Men dominate technical, professional, and high-level roles, such as management. Men with a bachelor’s degree or higher often pursue careers in medicine, engineering, or education, while those with less formal education are typically limited to manual labour. Women are more often employed in low-skilled and basic service jobs, like cleaning or market vending. Educated women fare slightly better, finding opportunities primarily in teaching or healthcare, such as nursing.4

Barriers to Education

Women’s Access to Financial Resources

Education is a cornerstone of economic empowerment, yet in Somalia, male guardianship often restricts women’s access to schooling and skill development.

Traditional norms prioritise boys’ education, resulting in stark gender disparities in school enrolment and retention rates. Studies show that boys typically spend 30 percent more time in school than girls, with the gap particularly pronounced in rural areas.1

Access to financial resources is another significant challenge for women in Somalia, as they often have limited control over property and budget management within their households. Limited education and economic opportunities leave many women without the means to generate income, contributing to lower purchasing power, thereby reinforcing economic dependence.5 Moreover, it is culturally and religiously frowned upon for women to live alone, especially single women without clan support.

Intersectional vulnerabilities exacerbate this issue, especially for women in rural areas and internally displaced communities. Factors such as clan affiliation, marital status, or belonging to a minority group can further limit marginalised women’s access to education.

In Somalia, women have limited decision making power and depend on male networks for protection, with the level of protection varying based on their clan affiliation.2 Gendered Occupations and Economic Disparities Economic participation in Somalia is highly gendered, with women facing obstacles in both the formal and informal sectors. In 2022, male labour force participation rates were 73 percent in the age group 35-39, compared to 25 percent for females.3 Many women are confined to unpaid care work, and those who find paid employment often receive lower wages than men, deepening their financial dependence.

Women in Islam, 2025

Women also face systemic barriers when seeking capital. Financial institutions impose restrictive borrowing conditions, requiring either a guarantor or asset security, which are often unattainable for women. Land ownership, predominantly controlled by men, further hinders women’s ability to secure loans. Additionally, men are often reluctant to act as guarantors, and the high costs and short repayment terms associated with formal loans discourage women from accessing institutional credit. As a result, women rely on savings groups or loans from family and friends, which often provide insufficient funds for substantial business investments.6 Policy Frameworks and their Impact To address gender inequality, the Somali government introduced the Somalia National Gender Policy in 2016,

aiming to eliminate harmful practices such as female genital mutilation and child marriage while improving services for managing gender-based violence. The policy also seeks to promote women’s meaningful involvement in all aspects of life. Developed in the aftermath of a devastating civil war, the policy recognises the unique impact of the conflict on women, many of whom became primary breadwinners. Despite these initiatives, women continue to face exclusion from political and economic decision making processes, highlighting the challenges in implementing the policy’s objectives.7

“

Entrepreneurship is a vital driver of Somalia's economy and women already comprise over 60 percent of small business owners in Somalia.

Somalia’s constitutional commitment to gender equality also includes a 30 percent quota for female representation in parliament and state assemblies.

However, the country’s key legal frameworks on elections—including the 2012 Provisional Federal Constitution, the unimplemented 2018 Electoral Law, and the proposed Political Party Law that has yet to be passed—fail to address this 30 percent gender quota.

As a result, the quota remains an unofficial guideline with no legal mechanism for enforcement. In the 2022 parliamentary elections, only 19 percent of seats in the House of the People were secured by women, highlighting the persistent barriers to their political participation.8 Further undermining efforts to advocate for equal representation and participation is the country’s failure to ratify the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).9 Opportunities for Reform Despite these entrenched cultural norms and institutional weaknesses, there are opportunities for meaningful reform, including through societal

ABDIKADIR ISSA FARAH has over 15 years of experience in humanitarian aid and education.

He is affiliated with the Formal Education Network for Private Schools.

His research focuses on education, children’s rights, the environment, women, peace, and human development.

Farah has published academic papers in peer-reviewed journals and authored several books, including Gacalo and Her Success: A Man’s Resting Place Is Peace.

6

7

Photo by SULEIMAN HASSAN

Somalia National Bureau of Statistics (SNBS), Governance Statistics Report 2023.

Federal Government of Somalia, Environmental and Social Management Framework (ESMF), March 2023. https://moe. gov.so/wp-content/ uploads/2023/03/ ESMF-P176898March-1-2023-UPDATED-.pdf.

Women in Islam, 2025

25

EQUALITY

8

9

Sophia Friedson-Ridenour, “Voices of Women Entrepreneurs in a Changing Somalia,” World Bank Blogs, March 2022. https:// blogs.worldbank. org/en/nasikiliza/ voices-women-entrepreneurs-changing-somalia.

Seema Jayachandran, “Social Norms as a Barrier to Women’s Employment in Developing Countries,” IMF Economic Review 69, no. 3 (2021): 576–95, https://doi. org/10.1057/s41308021-00140-w.

R. Mohamed, Empowering Women: Fueling Economic Prosperity (Mogadishu: National Economic Council of Somalia, 2024), https://nec.gov.so/ wp-content/uploads/2024/10/ EMPOWERING-WOMEN.pdf.

10

11

12

13

Expanding Access to Justice Program, The Shari’ah in Somalia. Nairobi, Kenya: Pact and the American Bar Association Rule of Law Initiative, 2020.

Yusuf Sheikh Omar, “The Role of Islam in Peace and Development in Somalia (Continuity and Change),” Religions 13, no. 11 (2022): 1074, https:// doi.org/10.3390/ rel13111074.

H. E. D. A. Jama, “2025 One-Person, One-Vote Elections Will Herald a New Era of Democracy in Somalia,” Somali National News Agency, December 4, 2024, https://sonna.so/ en/2025-one-person-one-vote-elections-will-herald-anew-era-of-democracy-in-somalia/.

26

the informal sector, with 70 percent lacking access to formal investment agencies and property ownership.

Reforms should allow them to enter the formal sector, gain access to capital, and increase participation in business dialogue.10 Legal and institutional reforms are equally critical. Somalia’s legal system is a combination of civil law, customary law (xeer) and shari’ah law. The codified law is an amalgamation of British common law and Italian civil law. Currently, Photo by SULEIMAN HASSAN it does not provide a comprehensive legal framework and has historically engagement. While patriarchal norms present been inadequately enforced.11 Shari’ah law, for instance, formidable barriers, Somali culture recognises the vital often offers more robust protections for marginalised role women play in achieving family and clan prestige. groups compared to the customary xeer system.12 By emphasising these contributions, societal acceptance of women’s broader economic and social participation However, the country will reform its electoral system can be fostered. Community engagement and awareness in 2025, transitioning from indirect elections to a onecampaigns are essential to shift these attitudes. person, one-vote model. This reform has the potential Collaboration between international organisations and to increase female participation in the electoral process, local advocacy groups will be key to sustaining these strengthen governance, and drive socio-economic efforts and ensuring their effectiveness. development.13

“

Empowering women is not merely a moral imperative but a strategic necessity for the nation's development.

This is crucial, as women have a leading role to play in the country’s economic growth. Entrepreneurship is a vital driver of Somalia’s economy and women already comprise over 60 percent of small business owners in Somalia. However, many of these businesses are part of

Women in Islam, 2025

Not merely a moral imperative By prioritising women’s empowerment and fostering greater gender equality, Somalia can unlock its economic potential and build a more inclusive society. Empowering women is not merely a moral imperative but a strategic necessity for the nation’s development. The path forward requires sustained commitment from the government, civil society, and international partners to dismantle the barriers and create a future where all citizens can thrive.

ABDIKADIR ISSA FARAH

How Guardianship Curtails Women’s Political Participation Family law significantly shapes women's roles in society, reflecting broader societal attitudes toward gender, religion, and culture. While it directly impacts women's access to decision making and public life, discussions on women's political participation often overlook the patriarchal structures embedded in these laws. As a result, personal status and family laws quietly yet powerfully hinder women's civic engagement.

This article reflects a panel discussion held during the Commission on the Status of Women in New York in March 2025. The session examined how family law and male guardianship systems continue to uphold discriminatory norms—deeply rooted in tradition and often cloaked in religious legitimacy. Even when legal texts appear egalitarian, the persistence of guardianship practices undermines gender equality and restricts women’s participation in political life.

Systematic Disempowerment “A key factor preventing women from participating in decision making, politics, and the labour force is the existence of guardianship laws,” said Fer Ghanaa Ansari, Senior International Advocacy Officer at Musawah.

Sharing Musawah’s research findings on family law in the Horn of Africa, she explained, “The guardianship system treats women as legal minors, placing their decisions under the control of male relatives. This assumption that women are incapable of independent decision making severely limits their agency. We cannot discuss political participation without addressing family law.”

The reach of male guardianship extends far beyond the home. “In many countries, husbands can legally prevent their wives from working,” Ansari continued.

This economic dependency limits women’s opportunities to engage in public life. Without access to education or meaningful careers, their ability to participate in politics is systematically undermined.

These restrictions are not merely social customs— they are embedded in legal systems that institutionalise male dominance. “Religion- and culture-based laws are misused to justify discrimination against women,

enabling political and religious leaders to entrench patriarchal authority,” Ansari warned.

In contexts where religious, customary, and civil laws coexist, legal ambiguity further marginalises women. “Decisions are often left to religious leaders or community elders who rely on their own preferred interpretations,” Ansari said. “This legal pluralism makes reform incredibly challenging.”

Impact Compounded during Conflict In Sudan, Musawah’s research highlights how conflict has intensified the effects of guardianship on women’s lives. While conflict often forces women to make life-ordeath decisions to protect their families, they still face violence, sexual assault, torture, and harassment when speaking out. The guardianship system legitimises these harms by reinforcing women’s subordination, enabling practices such as child marriage.

Development economist Aluel Atem outlined the ongoing challenges women face in influencing decision making in South Sudan, a country still grappling with the aftermath of decades of conflict. Though the 2011 Comprehensive Peace Agreement guaranteed women 25 percent representation in decision making positions, implementation has fallen short.

“

We are trying to make women fit into systems that were not designed for them.

“We’re good at signing protocols, but they rarely translate into reality,” said Atem. “Even when women do manage to secure high-level political positions, their presence seldom leads to meaningful progress for women.

The system was never designed for us. Women may be

Women in Islam, 2025

27

EQUALITY

Illustration by NUSRELDIN ELDOUMA

“

If we want women to be part of political life, we must provide the economic means for them to participate.

28

Women in Islam, 2025

included, but they’re not setting the rules. They’re forced to toe the line to keep their positions, which stifles real change.”

Atem also criticised the tendency to focus exclusively on national-level politics when discussing women’s participation. “We forget the state levels, the local government level, the payam levels [a political subdivision of counties in South Sudan]. And this is where community decisions are being made. We must build up the power of

women on those levels. That is what can lead to legitimate participation and meaningful change.”

Atem added that much of today’s women’s rights work has shifted to the non-governmental organisation (NGO) sector, sidelining traditional community-based women’s associations and trade unions. “We’ve lost the grassroots organising that once mobilised women around shared causes,” she said.

Access to Resources Eyerusalem Solomon, Executive Director of TIMRAN in Ethiopia, emphasised the importance of access

“

We cannot discuss political participation without addressing family law. to resources as a prerequisite for women’s political participation. “If we want women to be part of political life, we must provide the economic means for them to participate,” she said. Solomon pointed to succession laws that deprive women of wealth and inheritance, perpetuating their lack of access to resources and power.

Moving Forward Despite the obstacles, Ansari remains hopeful.

Musawah and other groups are building knowledge to challenge patriarchal interpretations of law and religion.

“We have strong examples from Muslim countries that have reformed their family laws to reduce discrimination,” she noted. “But unless guardianship laws are dismantled, women’s full participation—in both the economy and politics—will remain out of reach.”

She also criticised political parties for failing to offer safe and inclusive spaces for women. “Most parties lack policies against violence and sexual harassment. Without these safeguards, women remain vulnerable to abuse and exclusion.”

THE WOMEN IN ISLAM EDITORIAL BOARD

The panel was co-sponsored by the Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa (SIHA) and Musawah.

The discussion was moderated by Hala AlKarib, SIHA’s Regional Director and Editorial Head of the Women in Islam journal.

The panellists included: • Aluel Atem – Program Advisor for South Sudan, SIHA Network A feminist peacebuilder and strategic advisor with over a decade of experience advancing gender equality, peacebuilding, and conflict transformation in complex humanitarian and post-conflict settings.

• Eyerusalem Solomon – Executive Director, TIMRAN A legal expert and civil society leader with extensive experience in women’s political participation and leadership, combining legal knowledge with grassroots advocacy.

• Fer Ghanaa Ansari – Senior Officer for International Advocacy, Musawah A global women’s rights advocate working toward equality and justice in Muslim family laws and practices through international policy engagement and grassroots mobilisation.

• Caroline Muthoni Muriithi – Gender and Human Rights Expert A seasoned advocate with over 20 years of experience in gender justice, policy analysis, and movement building. Known for her leadership in multi-stakeholder engagement and strategic campaigns to eliminate gender-based violence and improve access to justice.

Women in Islam, 2025

29

EQUALITY

A Mother’s Right to Choose Reforming Algeria’s Custody Laws for Child Welfare

Algeria's family law has long shaped the lives of women and children through rules that are rooted in Islamic shari'ah and reinforced by patriarchal traditions. For countless mothers, this has led to painful choices and heartbreaking separations.

IKRAM YASSAMINE MEKIDICHE is a lawyer, researcher, and advocate with a background in journalism, specialising in human rights, the rule of law, and media development.

As a fellow with Women of the South Speak Out (WOSSO), she works on gender justice, advocacy, and policy research, amplifying the voices of women from the Global South in decision making spaces.

Iman, a housewife and mother of two children, experienced this heartbreak first-hand. When she remarried, her ex-husband was granted custody of their son. “He no longer cares about me and his father ignored the judge’s recommendations to maintain our bond,” she says. “My own father refused to let me appeal, calling it a lost cause. Even my second husband did not support me. After our son was born, he accused me of favouring one child over the other.”1 Articles 64 and 66 of the Algerian Family Code do more than dictate child custody after divorce—they reinforce rigid gender roles. Article 64 establishes a strict hierarchy: custody is granted first to the mother, then to the father, followed by female relatives in order of succession. If none of them qualify, the closest male relative assumes custody. However, if a mother remarries, she automatically loses custody unless a judge deems it in the child’s best interest.2 These legal provisions leave little room for judicial discretion, forcing courts to follow rigid guidelines rather than prioritising a child’s well-being. The consequences for children can be profound. Research shows that separating a child from their primary caregiver—especially at a young age—can lead to deep emotional distress and long-term psychological harm.

Such children are more likely to experience anxiety, depression, and difficulty forming stable relationships later in life.3 Mahram For many divorced or widowed mothers, the fear of losing their children governs their lives. Some remain

30

Women in Islam, 2025

in unhappy marriages, while others avoid remarriage altogether, knowing that their ex-husbands, or even family members, could retaliate by taking their children away.

For mothers of daughters, the situation becomes even more complex. A stepfather is not considered a mahram—a family member with whom marriage would be forbidden—making it culturally unacceptable for a stepdaughter to live with him past a certain age. The mere idea of leaving a daughter in a stepfather’s household can lead to scandal. Fears of impropriety, social judgment, and whispered concerns about immodesty push fathers to reclaim custody.

Under Article 66 of the Family Code, the only way a mother can remarry and retain custody is by marrying a close relative—such as a cousin or brother-in-law—who is already a mahram to the child. While this ensures the child remains within a socially and religiously accepted family structure, it severely restricts a woman’s right to choose her own partner.

Karima, a divorced mother from southern Algeria, has been facing this dilemma since 2014. Her ex-husband

“

A child's well-being should not be compromised by legal technicalities that prioritise tradition over justice.

made his intentions clear: “I ruined your life. And if you dare to rebuild it and remarry, I’ll come take your daughter back.” Trapped by the constraints of Algeria’s Family Code, Karima has resigned herself to forced celibacy. “I have put my love life on hold,” she says. At times, despair overtakes her. “Faced with silence, I lose hope. I even think of suicide.”

Hidden Pathways In beauty salons, hammams, and even the corridors of family courts, stories circulate of mothers forced to choose between a new love and motherhood. Zahra, a 35-year-old mother from Oran, knows this struggle all too well. After her divorce, she was granted custody of her daughter. But when she decided to remarry, her ex-husband—who had since moved abroad and remarried himself—threatened to take their child away. Zahra ultimately chose to remain single, knowing that if her ex-husband followed through on his threat, he would not even raise their daughter himself, but send her to live with his mother.4 Many women in Zahra’s position resort to informal solutions. Some enter into a religious-only marriage (fatiha), avoiding civil registration to keep the union hidden. Others keep their remarriage a secret for at least two years, since Algerian Family Law states that if the father does not claim custody within that period, the mother retains it. Some even relocate to another city to avoid being discovered.

While these strategies provide temporary relief, they strip women of their marital rights and subject them to immense psychological and emotional strain.

Zahra refused to take that risk. “I want control over my

choices and my future,” she asserts.

“A religious marriage offers no guarantees or protections—either for me or my future children. Without a marriage certificate, they would carry only my name. How would they grow up?”5

“

For many divorced or widowed mothers, the fear Without the father’s last name, of losing their her children risk losing access to children governs inheritance and other legal rights.

Yet the most profound impact their lives. is often social. In many parts of Algeria, having a child outside of marriage remains deeply stigmatised. The mother may face harsh judgment from her family and community, while the child might grow up feeling different or excluded. Zahra’s fear goes beyond paperwork—it’s about the way society will view her and her children, and the lasting effects that judgment could have on their future.

Zahra’s story is far from unique. In recent years, more than 12,000 divorced Algerian women have come together to form an online support network. Through a Facebook group, they exchange advice, share experiences, and campaign for the repeal of Article 66.

1

2

Gendered Parental Roles Even when a mother is granted custody, she does not have full parental authority under Algerian Family Law. Legal guardianship (wilayah) remains with the father, giving him control over key decisions regarding the child’s legal status, finances, education, and travel.

This distinction reinforces traditional gender roles and

3

4

Sara Zouaoui, “Algerian Women Caught between an Unjust Legal System and an Unforgiving Society,” Raseef22, March 13, 2024, https://raseef22.net/english/ article/1093171-algerian-women-caught-between-an-unjustlegal-system-and-an-unforgiving-society.

Mounira M. Charrad, States and Women’s Rights: The Making of Postcolonial Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001).

John Bowlby, Attachment and Loss (New York: Basic Books, 1969).

D. Zahra, personal interview, March 2, 2025.

Women in Islam, 2025

31

EQUALITY

“

If you dare to remarry, I'll take your daughter away. (Ex-husband)

5

6

7

8

D. Zahra, personal interview, March 2, 2025.

Jeremy D. Morley, “Algeria Child Custody & Child Abduction Law,” The Law Office of Jeremy D. Morley. https:// www.international-divorce.com/Algeria-Family-Law. United Nations Treaty Collection, CEDAW & CRC Reports on Algeria.

Mounira M. Charrad, “Gender in the Middle East: Islam, State, Agency,” in The Oxford Handbook of Gender and Politics, ed.

Georgina Waylen et al. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).

32

limits a mother’s autonomy, despite her primary role as the caregiver.6

At the same time, the law often prevents fathers from securing custody, regardless of their emotional bond with their children, because it assumes that a mother’s care is inherently superior to a father’s. As a result, custody decisions are influenced more by societal expectations than by an objective assessment of who is best suited to raise the child.

Even a father’s visitation rights are strictly regulated.

Article 68 grants him access, but only at predetermined times and locations, leaving little room for spontaneous or meaningful bonding. Instead of being an active parent, he is reduced to a mere visitor in his child’s life.

This rigid framework contradicts international child protection standards, such as Article 9 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, which upholds the children’s right to maintain relationships with both parents after separation—unless doing so would be against their best interests.

A Call for Reform A mother should not have to choose between a romantic partner and her child, nor should a child’s well-being be compromised by legal technicalities that prioritise tradition over justice. Reforming Algeria’s custody laws is not only a matter of fairness; it is about ensuring that every child grows up in a stable, supportive, and loving environment.

Algeria ratified the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) in 1996, but maintained reservations on family law provisions, including those related to child custody.

Women in Islam, 2025

CEDAW’s General Recommendation No. 21 (1994) states that family law should uphold women’s rights to equality in marriage, divorce, and parental responsibilities.7 Some neighbouring countries have already taken steps toward more equitable custody laws. Morocco’s 2004 Family Code (Moudawana) allows divorced mothers to retain custody even after remarriage, provided it serves the child’s best interest. Similarly, Tunisia’s Personal Status Code allows courts to assess custody based on parental ability rather than rigid gender hierarchies.

These reforms demonstrate that progress within an Islamic legal framework is possible.7 Conclusion The automatic loss of a mother’s custody upon remarriage must be abolished. Instead, custody decisions should be based on the child’s best interests, with joint custody becoming the default, allowing children to maintain meaningful relationships with both parents.

Custodial mothers must also be granted full legal authority over their children, without unnecessary bureaucratic constraints. Additionally, stricter enforcement of child support laws is needed to prevent children from falling into financial insecurity.

These are not radical demands—they are necessary steps toward a more just and compassionate legal system.

One that values children not as pawns in a legal battle, but as individuals deserving of security, stability, and love. If Algeria is truly committed to gender equality and human rights, it must modernise its custody laws. Only then will mothers and children no longer be forced to choose between love and security.

IKRAM YASSAMINE MEKIDICHE

Artwork by SARAH HANDALA

Women in Islam, 2025

33

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Three Centuries of Travel Writing

by Muslim Women

A Book Edited by Siobhan Lambert-Hurley, Daniel Majchrowicz, and Sunil Sharma Three Centuries of Travel Writing by Muslim Women challenges assumptions about Muslim women's mobility by revealing a rich tapestry of travel narratives that defy stereotypes.

An anecdote from Sediqeh Dowlatabadi’s journey exemplifies such entrenched assumptions about women’s mobility under Islam. The Iranian feminist was in her forties when she travelled abroad for the first time in 1923. Unlike many male travellers, who prepared book-length travelogues on return, she captured her experiences in a series of articles and letters published in various Persian-language newspapers.

“

Three Centuries of Travel Writing

by Muslim Women reflects the inherent diversity within Islam.

One article—that appeared in a newspaper she herself edited— described a lengthy exchange with a French immigration officer in Marseille. Upon taking her passport, he asked: Was she Armenian or perhaps Jewish? With whom had she travelled? His surprise at her responses led him to exclaim: “Mon Dieu! A Muslim Iranian woman has travelled alone from Tehran to France. How did your government permit you to leave? Where did you get this passport?”

This exchange captures the assumption that Muslim women cannot be travellers due to restrictions on their mobility under Islamic tradition. The immigration officer presumed a Muslim woman’s need for a male guardian when travelling and, implicitly at least, the difficulties of a voyage alongside practices of veiling and seclusion.

34

Women in Islam, 2025

The fact that these assumptions remain alive and well today is not surprising, considering how certain colonial and Orientalist notions persist. It also reflects that very few have had access to the historical record of Muslim women’s mobility in the past. This reality inspired me to work with two other editors, Daniel Majchrowicz and Sunil Sharma, and a large team of regional specialists to assemble Three Centuries of Travel Writing by Muslim Women.

Diversity of Voices Each of the 45 short chapters introduces an author who penned her travel experiences before the ‘jet age’ transformed global mobility in the mid-twentieth century. A short biographical introduction situates each in her respective historical and literary context, followed by translated or original extracts from her writing and a list of further reading, including materials on our website, Accessing Muslim Lives.1 We use ‘travel writing’ in our title to indicate that these women wrote in many different forms—from travelogues to published letters, speeches or poetry. Many wrote in Urdu, Persian or Turkish, though sometimes also Arabic, Punjabi, Bengali, Indonesian, German, and English.

Their origins were diverse, with travellers hailing from various locations in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe—but equally varied were their destinations.

These intriguing travel stories thus take us from Istanbul to New York City, from Cairo to Karachi, from Zanzibar

to Hamburg, from Delhi to Damascus, from Tehran to Durban, from Jakarta to New Orleans, from London to Mecca, and more.

Most of the authors identified as Muslim and consciously sought to engage with what that meant for a woman. They also shared a willingness to travel and the desire to document that experience with some degree of introspection, often in relation to social and political changes within their own societies.

Beyond that, the women travellers featured in our book are remarkably diverse, encompassing ‘queens, reformers, pilgrims, Sufis, wives, converts, captives, flâneuses, littératrices, and provocatrices,’ as Daniel and I note in our introduction. Of course, the requirement for literacy meant that most authors in the period we cover were privileged, often highly so. Though a few did come from more modest circumstances, and many chronicled women of differing social status.

Women’s Motivations to Travel Each of the book’s four sections focuses on a distinct motivation for women to travel. The first and longest section explores ‘travel as pilgrimage’, indicating that religious travel was the most widely accepted form of travel for women across all three centuries. The book opens with a pilgrimage narrative written in the late

Published by Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2022; Delhi: Zubaan, 2024

seventeenth century by a woman from Isfahan, Iran, identified only as ‘the widow of Mirza Khalil’. Her opening passage captures the grief that compelled her to undertake the long and dangerous trip to Hijaz: “I could neither sleep at night nor rest during the day until I would be able to circumambulate the sanctuary of the Kaaba.”

1

Accessing Muslim Lives, https://accessing muslimlives.org.

Women in Islam, 2025

35

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

“

These travel narratives by Muslim women bring valuable historical insights into contemporary debates on decolonisation, migration and globalisation.

‘Travel as emancipation’ became a major impetus for Muslim women to travel from the nineteenth century onwards. Many undertook these journeys to advance women’s emancipation, sometimes in conjunction with other political ideologies, whether nationalist, internationalist, or communist. Curiously, this second section is dominated by Arabic- and Turkishspeaking authors writing for mixed-gender audiences in Europe or their home countries. As an example, the prominent Egyptian journalist Amina Said advanced the Palestinian cause during her visit to a women’s conference in India, shortly before the establishment of the Israeli state in 1948.

The third section, ‘travel as education’, reflects how Muslim women wrote about European or American sojourns for formal or informal learning. In the early twentieth century, these opportunities were primarily available to a privileged few from wealthy families, who played a significant role in advocating for social reform. Later, women from more modest backgrounds began to benefit from the increasing acceptance of

36

Women in Islam, 2025

education for women, particularly in fields like education and medicine. Mehr al-Nisa, for instance, left newly independent India as a young bride in 1953 to study nursing in Ohio.

The final section highlights ‘travel for obligation and pleasure’. When fathers, brothers and husbands went into exile or travelled abroad for work or study, their female relatives often accompanied them. As her husband travelled to expand his Burma-based hardware business after the First World War, Safia Jabir Ali spent her time singly exploring industrial cities and ports across England, Scotland, and Germany. In an early 1920s speech, she recalled that, “They [her European hosts] are under the impression that [we, ladies] generally lie on durwans (divans) in gorgeous apparel, waited on by women, [dreaming] away [our] days surrounded by wealth and luxury! I had to tell them that… we were not anything like what they imagined!” However, not all women felt as emboldened to sightsee without accompaniment. After a cloistered upbringing, Nyonya Aulia-Salim visited the United States from Indonesia in the early 1950s. In a poignantly written letter home from a lonely hotel room, she reflected on her sense of isolation: “Previously confined by custom, now by fear.

It is a cruelty like no other!”

Historical and Contemporary Relevance Muslim women travel writers often mused on their encounters with other women across cultural boundaries.

Our selected extracts highlight what these exchanges

meant for understanding other and self alike. Their perspectives are enormously varied, underscoring how Muslim women’s identities were—and still are—shaped not just by religion and gender, but sometimes even more profoundly by race, class, politics, culture, and personal individuality. The stories captured in Three Centuries of Travel Writing by Muslim Women thus offer an important opportunity to reflect on the inherent diversity within Islam.

At the same time, they open the door to a global history enriched by the marginalised voices of Muslim women in the past. The source materials we draw upon are often being translated or made available in English for the first time. In many cases, these works have been forgotten or overlooked within the literary traditions they originated from. Unearthing these rich accounts required meticulous detective work, often involving searches through obscure and remote collections worldwide. These travel narratives by Muslim women have the potential to revise our understanding of connections and belonging, of difference and exclusion.

In doing so, they bring valuable historical insights into contemporary debates on decolonisation, migration, and globalisation.

Faced with the French immigration officer’s questioning, Sediqeh Dowlatabadi claims to have responded: “If in all of Europe they view Iranians through your eyes, it would be good for me to turn back from here.” Fortunately, she did not turn back. Instead, she went on to visit Bern, Berlin, and Paris, where she

obtained a teacher’s diploma at the Sorbonne University before returning to Iran in 1927. Other Muslim women travellers faced similar misunderstandings, overt racism, and an overbearing curiosity—and they persevered too. That is something we may be grateful for, as their writings offer us a glimpse of what the world looked like through their eyes. By bringing their voices to light, we have an opportunity to challenge enduring stereotypes and prejudices about Muslim women’s mobility, lives, and experiences that persist even today.

SIOBHAN LAMBERT-HURLEY

SIOBHAN LAMBERTHURLEY is a Professor of Global History at the University of Sheffield. She specialises in the history of women, gender and Islam in South Asia. Her other books include: Elusive Lives: Gender, Autobiography and the Self in Muslim South Asia (2018) and Forgotten Foods: Memories and Recipes from Muslim South Asia (co-edited with Tarana Husain Khan and Claire Chambers, 2023).

Women in Islam, 2025

37

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Reclaiming Space in the Outdoors Muslim Women Exploring Together

Amira Patel (32) is Britain's first veiled woman mountaineer. By founding The Wanderlust Women, a hiking and adventure group, she is empowering other Muslim women to embrace the outdoors as well. Her initiative not only helps them build confidence and skills but also challenges stereotypes about Muslim women in outdoor spaces.

Growing up in the United Kingdom with Indian and Burmese roots, Amira Patel followed a creative path, studying art and design before pursuing a career in beauty and fashion. But her true calling lay beyond the runway—in the mountains.

Driven by a passion to carve out space for Muslim women in the outdoors, she founded a community that organises expeditions designed to empower women.

“We are here to break the barriers and stereotypes placed upon us,” Amira says. “We are here to change what others misconceive as the typical walker, hiker, or mountaineer.”

How did you get into mountaineering?

“My love for adventure was ingrained in me early on. My dad took us traveling a lot, and my mom

The Wanderlust Women

38

Women in Islam, 2025

“

Climbing the UK's Three Peaks felt empowering. It made me realise there is a space for Muslim women in the outdoors. encouraged us to do activities that were rather uncommon for South Asian girls, like swimming and horse riding. However, my true connection with nature didn’t start until after my parents’ divorce. In my early teens, I started hiking with my mom. I found it incredibly hard at first—I was always huffing and puffing—but once I reached the mountaintop, it was so beautiful.

After university, I felt lost. My friends were all getting married and I wasn’t sure what I wanted, so I decided to go backpacking—something unusual for a Muslim woman to do solo. When I returned, I felt the social pressure to settle down and got married, but it wasn’t a good marriage. When it ended in divorce, I turned to nature to heal. It took me a few years to regain my confidence, but when I did, I decided to climb the three highest peaks in the UK. It felt so empowering. That’s when I realised there is a space for women like me in the outdoors.”

The Wanderlust Women

So, when I embraced my spiritual identity and started wearing the veil, I realised how important it was to challenge the idea that Muslim women don’t belong in the outdoors. I wanted to improve accessibility for others, ensuring they feel represented and safe in these spaces. It’s about more than organising trips for women—it’s a movement. Our initiative changes the narrative so that everyone, regardless of how they look, has equal access to the outdoors.

Social media played a huge role in spreading that message. When I founded The Wanderlust Women four years ago, it started small, but the response grew quickly.

We’ve since organised 30 to 40 expeditions worldwide and supported thousands of women in the UK.” Did you face any backlash?

What inspired you to turn this passion into a movement?

“Of course. Being one of the first veiled women in climbing and hiking has brought both support and negativity. Trolls exist, and after being featured on major platforms like the BBC and as a North Face Explorer, I’ve had to learn how to navigate their nasty comments. I’m human, so they still affect me, but I don’t let them get to me as much anymore. The support from my community far outweighs the negativity, and that’s what keeps me going.

“I’ve always been a pioneer in my community, organising trips with friends and pushing boundaries.

As a community activist, I’ve also been involved in projects that support those in need—I love seeing others happy and fulfilled.

Still, there’s always an underlying fear, especially in today’s political climate. While outdoor spaces tend to be more welcoming, racism is still very real in the UK. The riots in 2024—driven by misinformation and fuelled by the media—were a scary reminder of that.

Women in Islam, 2025

39

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

What are some of the misconceptions about Muslim women in the outdoors in the UK? “The biggest myth is that Muslim women just don’t want to go outside. That’s simply not true. Our ancestors often came from regions with some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. Many lived off the land, growing food and working in nature, so a life outdoors is in our DNA. But when they migrated, survival took priority. They faced discrimination and economic struggles, so leisure activities like hiking weren’t an option. That legacy still affects our community today.

The Wanderlust Women

[Amira is referring to the far-right anti-immigration protests that took place across 27 towns in the UK between 30 July and 7 August 2024. Many turned violent, with participants attacking mosques and hotels housing asylum seekers.]

“

There have been a few incidents where people acted aggressively toward my group while we were on a trip.

In those moments, I felt incredibly vulnerable. You hear stories of hijab-wearing women being attacked in the UK, and that fear is always in the back of my mind. But despite these challenges, I choose to focus on the positive.”

The biggest myth is that Muslim women just don't want to go outside. That's simply not true. Our ancestors often came from regions with some of the most beautiful mountains in the world.

40

Women in Islam, 2025

Another misconception is that Islam forbids women from being active or independent. While cultural restrictions do exist in some communities, they are not rooted in religion. From a religious perspective, nothing is stopping women from working or going outside. That’s why I incorporate faith into our expeditions—to show that being in nature can also be a spiritual experience, not just a physical one.

Many verses in the Qur’an speak of mountains and travelling. When you’re out in nature, away from the distractions of daily life, you can truly worship the Creator with your heart. Praying in an open space, feeling gratitude, and embracing stillness—all of it strengthens faith. It’s so good for our mental and spiritual health.”

What obstacles are preventing Muslim women in the UK from journeying into nature?

“It’s a combination of external and internal barriers.

Many people from ethnic minorities grow up in highly urbanised areas, far removed from nature. Without early exposure to the outdoors, the idea of exploring can feel intimidating. Just getting to the countryside can be a significant hurdle, and once you’re there, new fears arise—Will I stand out? Will people stare? Am I safe? That’s why having relatable role models is so important. It can help people feel like they belong.

Financial and logistical challenges also play a role: affording proper gear, finding transportation...

That’s where I come in. I organise trips that meet our community’s needs, whether it’s providing halal food, accommodating prayer breaks, or taking modest clothing options into account.”

Have you seen personal transformations among the women you’ve worked with?

“So many. At first, I was leading the trips alone, but now we have a core team of seven people. Many of these women joined my early trips, when they were dealing with personal struggles like divorce or trauma.

They didn’t know anything about the outdoors or how to plan expeditions, but they built confidence and a sense of community through these trips. Now, they volunteer to help other women.

Thanks to their support, we were able to expand from local events to international expeditions. While some

of our trips are costly, they’re not nearly as expensive as tours organised by travel companies. They are still non-profit expeditions that I host out of passion.

This year, we lead one adventurous expedition every month: from climbing Toubkal in Morocco or K2 in Pakistan, to an Arctic expedition or diving trip. We’re literally breaking all the barriers!”

What advice would you give to Muslim women hesitant to explore the outdoors?

“Just take the first step. What’s the worst that can happen? Go for a walk in a local park, join a group, connect with like-minded women in your area. It can be daunting, but the rewards are immense. You never know what’s on the other side, so just connect.”

What’s next for The Wanderlust Women?

LIEN SANTERMANS is the Editorial Coordinator of the Women in Islam Journal. A seasoned writer and editor, she brings over a decade of experience working with non-profit organisations across Europe and the Middle East.

Passionate about gender justice and human rights, she specialises in storytelling that amplifies marginalised voices.

“Right now, my focus is on running our ongoing expeditions. I’d love to open a wellness and healing centre in the mountains one day, a space where women can reconnect with nature and themselves. Until then, I’m continuing my own journey—traveling, training, and leading expeditions.”

LIEN SANTERMANS

Women in Islam, 2025

41

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Dignity in Exile

A Somali Women’s Shelter in Kuala Lumpur Denied work, safety, and recognition, Somali refugee women in Kuala Lumpur create their own futures—one act of resistance at a time.

Books and art line the office walls of the Somali Women’s Association Malaysia (SWAM). Stacked plastic chairs and old computer monitors fill the large front room, where fuzzy nylon carpeting covers the floors. A framed letter from the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) hangs on the wall, thanking SWAM for its tireless service during the Covid-19 pandemic.

At first glance, SWAM’s centre may look threadbare.

But to the women gathering here, it is a safe refuge—a place founded by Somali refugee women, for Somali refugee women. In Malaysia, they live a painful contradiction: while the country offers safety from the conflict back home, it denies them the basic rights that make life liveable.

Between Worlds

“

Although Malaysia allows Somali refugees to enter without a visa, life there remains far from easy. As the country is not a signatory to the UN Refugee Convention, refugees and asylum seekers have little to no access to public services such as education

It's hard to rent a house. We share units and families sleep in different rooms, but owners don't like it because they know we are refugees.

42

Women in Islam, 2025

and healthcare. They are also barred from legal employment, pushing many into informal work in exhausting or dangerous sectors. This leaves them vulnerable to exploitation, including sexual harassment and wage theft.

Bella (23) is SWAM’s project coordinator. Having lived in Malaysia for two decades, she knows the risks of being undocumented all too well. “It’s riskier for us to work outside the house,” she explains. “When the authorities catch you working in a restaurant, they ask for your documents. You might end up in jail.”

For most refugees, obtaining UNHCR documentation—which offers some protection from detention and deportation—can take a long time. Bella recalls three deportation cases involving undocumented asylum seekers who were caught working in restaurants. “Luckily, immigration officials are more likely to recognise UN documents now than they were a decade ago,” she adds.

But the dangers don’t end there. “Employers don’t pay; they harass you,” Bella continues. “One woman worked in a restaurant for a month. Her boss demanded her body. When she refused, he threatened her, saying she couldn’t report him because she’s a refugee.”

To earn a living while staying relatively safe, many Somali women turn to home-based businesses like sewing and baking. But these ventures are no substitute for real economic rights.

Artwork by SANA ASHRAF

Women in Islam, 2025

43

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Overcrowded High-Rises

TASHNY SUKUMARAN is a human rights defender and journalist based in Kuala Lumpur.

Housing is another persistent challenge. The Somali community in Malaysia is small—around 300 to 350 people—and largely concentrated in a few areas. Many live in overcrowded high-rise flats on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, with multiple families sharing as few as three rooms.

“Living close together offers some protection, but integration remains difficult,” Bella notes. Despite sharing the same faith as the Muslim-majority population, Somali refugees often face racism, xenophobia, and discrimination. “It’s not as bad as what the Rohingya face,” Bella says, “but people can tell we’re refugees just by looking at us.”

“There have been physical attacks,” Bella continues.

“Recently, a Somali man was brutally attacked with wooden planks by two Malaysian men in his building’s lift lobby, simply because of his skin colour.” The assault, caught on video, showed bystanders and security guards walking away without intervening.

Underfunded but Undeterred Against this backdrop of danger and uncertainty, SWAM works tirelessly to carve out spaces of dignity, safety, and hope for Somali refugee women. But the work is never-ending and severely underfunded.

“We are a small, community-based organisation,” Bella explains. SWAM isn’t registered as a nongovernmental organisation (NGO), as the registration process in Malaysia is long, complex, and costly.

Foreigners looking to register a non-profit must first incorporate a company under the Companies Act 2016. Only then can they apply for tax-exempt status.

“As a result, donors need a local organisation to ‘host’ SWAM, so there’s an account to transfer funds

44

Women in Islam, 2025

into,” Bella says. “On top of that, recent global aid cuts have hit us hard. We’ve set up a donation website, but support has been limited so far. Even paying rent is a struggle.”

Despite these challenges, SWAM presses on. In fact, the association is more visible than ever. “We are women-led,” 35-year-old co-founder Khadijah says with a smile. “In fact, we often struggle to find male volunteers. But over the past two years, we’ve become more recognised. More people are aware of the Somali community and SWAM.” Mental Health SWAM was founded in 2018 by a group of single mothers who refused to let crises define their lives.

Khadijah recalls a recent case: a heavily pregnant woman arrived at SWAM’s offices after being abandoned by her husband. “Stories like this are common,” she says. “There are many single mothers in our community. Men often marry, divorce, and marry again.”

Mental health support is one of SWAM’s core activities, offering group therapy, counselling, case management for survivors of sexual violence, and workshops in collaboration with mental health NGOs. Trauma from war, displacement, and gender-based violence is widespread—but stigma runs deep.

“If a single mother struggles with her mental health, she often stays silent for fear of being seen as unfit to care for her children,” Khadijah explains. “That’s why we offer counselling and have created a peer support group where survivors can speak freely, whether online or in-person.”

The programme offered regular therapy sessions throughout 2024. Although it is temporarily paused due to funding cuts, monthly community consultations

continue. The most common concerns include the lack of affordable childcare, schooling, and safe work opportunities.

Small Skills, Big Futures Providing pathways to decent work is one of SWAM’s central aims. They recently even joined a crosscommunity entrepreneurship workshop with other refugee groups from Pakistan, Yemen, and Sudan.

“We want to equip women with practical skills that promote independence,” says Khadijah. “It’s very hard for us to access universities here. But maybe online, we can build a future.” E-hailing apps have made daily life easier, and a recent UNHCR partnership with a popular local e-wallet has helped refugees navigate previously inaccessible financial systems, easing the burden of documentation barriers.

To help women pursue online freelance work, SWAM’s programmes focus on relevant skill-building: English classes, digital literacy, graphic design, and vocational training. “We’ve completed four digital literacy cohorts so far,” Bella says. “Each runs for six months and trains around 20 students aged 16 to 30.”

The classes are led by a Somali IT graduate, a powerful example of community-led empowerment.

Vocational training is also popular, particularly in baking. Taught in Arabic by a Moroccan ally, the course covers everything from breads and pastries to cookies, along with basic business skills like branding and online marketing. SWAM hopes to add sewing classes soon, allowing women to take up tailoring from home. “But right now, we only have one sewing machine,” Bella notes.

Amna (25) recently completed the baking programme. She has also taken classes in marketing, finance, and digital literacy. Two months ago, she

“

Exile may take your homeland, but it does not have to take your dignity. launched her online business. “So far, I’ve only had five orders,” she says. A lack of ingredients and equipment forced her to pause the business, but not her ambitions.

“In the future, I want to open a bakery with my name on it. That’s my goal.” For now, she earns a living by doing laundry.

A Work of Dignity Despite the violence, neglect, and legal precarity, the Somali refugee community in Malaysia continues to organise, build, and imagine better futures. But resilience has its limits. As long as Malaysia denies refugees the right to work, access to education, and freedom from state violence, the burden will continue to fall on community-led groups like SWAM, operating on shoestring budgets.

“What we need most is more advocacy,” says Bella.

“We want to raise local awareness of what refugees experience. Our goal is to help our community adjust to life in Malaysia, while holding on to hope—whether that’s resettlement or improved conditions here.”

In a rented room in a Kuala Lumpur shop lot, these Somali women continue to resist. They are sewing, baking, counselling, teaching, and dreaming. And in doing so, they remind us: exile may take your homeland, but it does not have to take your dignity.

TASHNY SUKUMARAN

Women in Islam, 2025

45

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

The Fight against Female Genital Mutilation

A Testament to Collective Action in The Gambia and Ethiopia Female genital mutilation and cutting (FGM/C) is a grave human rights violation that continues to affect millions of women and girls worldwide. Despite it being outlawed under both national and international laws, enforcement remains a challenge in The Gambia and Ethiopia. Recent developments have even threatened to reverse hard-won gains, undermining the efforts of women's rights organisations.

1

2

3 4

5

6 7

UNICEF, “Female Genital Mutilation,” UNICEF Data, accessed April 1, 2025, https://data. unicef.org/topic/ child-protection/female-genital-mutilation/.

UNICEF, Female Genital Mutilation: A Global Concern, 2024. https:// data.unicef.org/ resources/female-genital-mutilation-a-global-concern-2024/.

Ibid.

Law Hub Gambia, “FGM and the Law,” Law Hub Gambia, December 3, 2020, https:// www.lawhubgambia.com/lawhugnet/2020/12/3-fgmand-the-law.

UNFPA Gambia, National Policy for the Elimination of FGM. https://gambia.unfpa.org/sites/ default/files/pubpdf/national_policy_for_the_elimination_of_fgm.pdf.

Ibid 2.

Equality Now, “What’s Happening with FGM Law in The Gambia?,” Equality Now, accessed April 1, 2025, https:// equalitynow.org/ news_and_insights/ whats-happeningwith-fgm-law-inthe-gambia/.

46

While the year 2025 marks significant milestones in the fight for women’s human rights, celebrations have largely been overshadowed by alarming setbacks that threaten to undo decades of progress. With tensions between feminism, authoritarianism and patriarchy at an all-time high, harmful practices like FGM/C remain powerful tools of control over women’s bodies and lives.

The enforcement of anti-FGM/C continues to face serious obstacles, particularly in African countries. Of the 230 million women and girls who have undergone FGM/C, 144 million live in Africa.1 The Gambia and Ethiopia rank among the top ten countries with the highest prevalence. According to UNICEF, 73 percent of Gambian women aged 15-49 have undergone FGM/C, while in Ethiopia, the prevalence stands at 65 percent.2 Encouragingly, however, 74 percent of Ethiopian women and girls and 86 percent of men and boys in this age group believe the practice should end.3 Threats to Progress Both countries have made significant legal progress in banning FGM/C. In 2015, The Gambia amended the Women’s Act of 2010 to criminalise the practice, imposing penalties on perpetrators and enablers ranging from three years in prison and fines to life imprisonment if the procedure results in death.4 However, enforcement has been weak, and the National Policy for the Elimination of FGM (20222026) is yet to yield results.5 Ethiopia’s Criminal

Women in Islam, 2025

Code of 2004 also bans FGM/C, with penalties ranging from three months to ten years in prison.

Although enforcement remains inconsistent, the law has contributed to a significant decline in prevalence, from 77 percent to 47 percent among girls aged 15-19 in the past 30 years.6 However, these hard-fought legal protections have recently come under serious threat in both countries.

In The Gambia, the first-ever conviction for FGM/C occurred in August 2023, when three women were sentenced for performing the procedure on eight girls.

This landmark case triggered widespread debate, with religious leaders and some parliamentarians pushing for the decriminalisation of FGM/C under the guise of cultural and religious freedom. They introduced the Women’s (Amendment) Bill of 2024, seeking to legalise FGM/C for consenting women.7 In Ethiopia, a major setback occurred on 31 January 2024, when the Ethiopian Islamic Affairs Supreme

“

Of the 230 million women and girls who have undergone female genital mutilation and cutting, 144 million live in Africa.

8

9

Council (EIASC) issued a fatwa reversing its previous condemnation of FGM/C. Instead, it classified it as a recommended practice (sunna) under Islam, under the pretext of upholding family honour and preserving purity. This decision lacked any justification, as there is no clear religious basis for FGM/C in the Qur’an or the Hadith. Nevertheless, the fatwa threatened to undo decades of advocacy efforts and sparked fears of a resurgence of FGM/C. The Role of Women’s Rights Movements Women’s rights movements in both countries responded swiftly with powerful advocacy campaigns. In The Gambia, women-led civil society organisations (CSOs) hosted peaceful marches, held radio discussions, and launched billboard campaigns to highlight the dangers of FGM/C. The Network Against Gender-Based Violence, Think Young Women, and the Nala Collective coordinated these efforts, collaborating with men’s groups like Men4Equality to engage communities in dialogue.

With support from the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), a national conference was convened to further centralise advocacy efforts. CSOs also provided critical information to the National Assembly on FGM/C-related death rates and brought in survivors to testify about their experiences.8 International support also played a crucial role in increasing pressure on the government. CSOs leveraged social media platforms, such as X, to garner

“

Civil society's successful resistance to the rollback of anti-FGM laws in The Gambia and Ethiopia highlights the power of collective advocacy.

Freedom House, “Gambia: Activists and Civil Society Win a Victory for Women and Girls,” Freedom House, accessed April 1, 2025, https://freedomhouse.org/ article/gambia-activists-and-civil-society-win-victory-women-and-girls.

Isatou Touray, “The Gambia May Allow Female Genital Mutilation Again— Another Sign of a Global Trend Eroding Women’s Rights,” The Conversation, March 28, 2024., https:// theconversation. com/the-gambiamay-allow-femalegenital-mutilationagain-another-signof-a-global-trenderoding-womensrights-226632.

African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, “Joint Follow-Up Press Statement,” March 4, 2024. https://achpr.au.int/ en/news/press-rele ases/2024-0304/joint-follow-press-statement-african-commission-human-and-peoples.

10

regional and global solidarity. Gambian feminist scholars in the diaspora9 and the African human rights system10 amplified the issue. The campaign reached international forums, including the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women in March 2024. These combined efforts ultimately led to the National Assembly rejecting the proposed bill on 15 July 2024.

In Ethiopia, the backlash against the EIASC’s fatwa gained momentum after the local women’s rights group Article 35 launched a digital campaign in April 2024. The BBC Amharic’s coverage of the issue further fuelled public outrage, prompting condemnation from regional and international organisations, including the African Women of Faith Network.11 The United Nation’s Secretary-General also denounced the fatwa in a report.12 Eventually, the Ethiopian Human Rights Council intervened, urging the EIASC to clarify its stance. Under mounting scrutiny, the EIASC

11

12

African Women of Faith Network, “Press Statement on FGM in Ethiopia”, June 14, 2024. https://www.peacemakers network.org/ wp-content/uploads/2024/06/ AWoFN_Press_ statement_on_ FGM_in_Ethiopia_20241.pdf.

UN Women, Report of the Secretary-General on Intensifying Global Efforts for the Elimination of Female Genital Mutilation, October 14,2024. https:// www.unwomen. org/sites/default/ files/2024-11/a-79514-sg-report-female-genital-mutilation-2024-en.pdf.

Women in Islam, 2025

47

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

RAMATOULIE ISATOU JALLOW is an attorney from Botswana and The Gambia, specialising in human rights, national security, conflict prevention, and women, peace and security.

She has worked with the African Union, the United States Institute for Peace, and the Georgetown Center for National Security, where she led research on military coups in the Sahel and West Africa, civic education in the military, and indefinite detention.

ZEMDENA ABEBE is a leading Ethiopian activist and advocate for gender justice and human rights. A Mandela Washington Fellow, she serves as the Country Coordinator for SIHA Network Ethiopia and sits on ActionAid Ethiopia’s advisory council.

Recognised among Africa’s Top 100 Most Influential Women, she champions intersectional feminism and movement building.

48

“

Progress in women's rights is neither guaranteed nor permanent. Constant vigilance and sustained activism are necessary to defend hard-won gains.

Women in Islam, 2025

then issued a statement affirming its support for the Ethiopian government’s anti-FGM/C efforts and retracting its endorsement of the practice.

Strength in Numbers Civil society’s successful resistance to the rollback of anti-FGM laws in The Gambia and Ethiopia highlights the power of collective advocacy. These movements demonstrate the importance of grassroots mobilisation, survivor-led campaigns, and the

Artwork by EZRA HARERIMANA

strategic use of data-driven arguments. By leveraging multiple platforms—digital, analogue, legal, and international—activists effectively pressured key decision makers, leading to major victories.

However, these successes also serve as a reminder that progress in women’s rights is neither guaranteed nor permanent. Constant vigilance and sustained activism are necessary to defend hard-won gains. As Angela Davis aptly stated, “You have to act as if it were possible to radically change the world. And you have

to do this all the time.”

The fight against FGM/C is far from over, but the resilience and strategies demonstrated by these advocacy movements offer a powerful roadmap for future battles against gender-based oppression.

RAMATOULIE ISATOU JALLOW ZEMDENA ABEBE

Women in Islam, 2025

49

PHOTO STORY

Women in War: Voices from Sudan and Ethiopia In times of armed conflict, women often bear a double burden. Displaced from their homes, they have to ensure both their own survival and that of their families, all while navigating a collapsed health system, a lack of protection, and severely restricted access to humanitarian aid. This photo story highlights the experiences of women affected by the ongoing conflicts in Ethiopia and Sudan.

Since April 2023, Sudan has been engulfed in one of the most violent and complex wars in its recent history. The conflict has devastated infrastructure, brought public services to the brink of collapse, and forced over 10 million people to flee their homes, both within Sudan and across its borders. In regions such as Khartoum, Darfur, and Al-Gazira, women and girls have been subjected to repeated and systematic abuses, including conflict-related sexual violence, abductions, enforced disappearances, and femicide.

In Ethiopia, widespread violence and human rights abuses have also displaced large numbers of women and children across the Amhara, Benishangul-Gumuz, and Somali regions. Identity-based movements, territorial disputes, political unrest, and economic hardship have fuelled a deepening humanitarian crisis in recent years. Displaced women are particularly vulnerable, facing sexual violence, chronic food insecurity, and limited access to aid due to government obstruction. The lack of healthcare and education further compounds their already dire conditions.

Sudan Sifting Through the Ruins – Credit: Hassan Al-Tayyeb Homes are the heart of life in Sudan. They are where people gather and where the fabric of life and memories is woven. Yet the war has left countless homes destroyed: looted, burned, and razed to the ground. Here, in Old Omdurman, a woman sifts through the rubble, hoping to recover fragments of what once was.

Khartoum State, Old Omdurman, 13 May 2024

50

Women in Islam, 2025

Displaced and Forgotten – Credit: Hassan Al-Tayyeb With few organised displacement camps or shelters, many Sudanese women and children have been forced to survive in the open, enduring harsh conditions. This grandmother and her granddaughter have found no refuge but a street corner in Kassala.

Kassala, eastern Sudan, 23 August 2024

Childhood Lost to War – Credit: Hassan Al-Tayyeb Sudan’s children have been left unprotected in the face of atrocities, enduring killings, abductions, sexual violence, and enforced disappearances. Displacement, fear, and hunger are shaping a generation that has never known a normal life.

Khartoum State, Omdurman Al-Hattana, 21 June 2024

The Backbone of Relief – Credit: Hassan Al-Tayyeb Amid the brutal war, Sudanese women have emerged as the backbone of grassroots relief efforts. They run community kitchens and shelters, feeding the displaced and those stripped of their livelihoods. Their tireless work sustains entire neighbourhoods despite dwindling resources and constant danger.

Khartoum State, Omdurman Al-Hattana, 21 June 2024

Women in Islam, 2025

51

Ethiopia The Morning That Shattered My Family – Credit: Meriem Idris “One morning in May 2020, the Gumuz [an ethnic group in western Ethiopia known to have been involved in militia activity] entered our village and started shooting randomly. Many neighbours were killed, and others were kidnapped by the gunmen. The Gumuz killed my father. They took my sisters, my niece and nephew, and even my mother. I once had three sisters; now I have only one. My mother is old, and I don’t know what they’ve done with her. None of us know what happened to our family members.”

Surviving the Bullet – Credit: Murayeed Ibrahim “It is difficult for me to share what happened. They came into my house and shot me in both legs and in the stomach. I was eventually taken to Karamarda Hospital in Jijiga, where doctors removed the bullets. I underwent several procedures, and metal was inserted to support my leg. I still don’t know who shot me, but many people have been killed. My leg still swells and causes me pain. I have four orphans to care for.”

52

Women in Islam, 2025

From Fertile Fields to Freezing Camps – Credit: Hawa Arega “I was born and raised in Wollega, but the Oromo Liberation Army displaced us. For several nights, I hid with my five-month-old daughter in the maize fields, afraid of being attacked while we slept.

Eventually, our neighbours from the Oromo ethnic group burned our home. They were themselves threatened with violence if they didn’t comply.

My friend was seven months pregnant. When they found her, they cut open her stomach and removed the foetus.

We fled to Addis and lived in the streets for two months before moving to a camp in Debre Berhan. I’ve developed asthma from the cold and the poor living conditions. In the camp, I help distribute aid, but there’s a serious food shortage. If it continues, famine will come. Before all this, I was a farmer. I had a good life growing teff. I miss everything, even the leaves in my village. The land was so fertile.”

Praying for Those Left Behind – Credit: Leyla Abdella “We were living in peace in Wollega, until one night we had to flee to save our lives. There was gunfire everywhere. In our village, 30 people were buried in a single day.

We lost many relatives; some were killed, others disappeared. We left everything behind and came emptyhanded to Addis Abeba four years ago. I managed to bring some of my children and grandchildren, but had to leave others behind. I pray to Allah to protect them. My heart is full of anguish. I miss them deeply. If the country finds peace, I wish to return home, to the only place I truly know.”

Note: The SIHA Network would like to thank Setaweet Movement and Nubia Media plc for the photos from Ethiopia.

Women in Islam, 2025

53

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

The Cost of Speaking Out

Backlash to Activism and the Power of Solidarity In this powerful testimony, Omnia Mustafa reflects on her unexpected journey into activism during the war in Sudan. What began as sharing updates for her community grew into a wider platform that brought solidarity as well as online harassment and identity-based attacks. Her story reveals the cost of speaking out, the resilience it demands, and the power of collective support in times of crisis.

I never set out to be an influencer or an activist. It wasn’t something I had planned for—it just kind of happened. It all started when I began sharing updates about the war in Sudan. When the conflict spread to Medani, my hometown, I felt compelled to inform the local community as well as the Sudanese diaspora, who were concerned for their families, about the situation.

Unexpectedly, my posts began to catch the attention of many.

“

At first, I resisted the label ‘activist’. I wasn’t trying to fight for a cause; I just wanted to share updates to help my community. But over time, I realised that activism isn’t a one-size-fits-all concept; it’s simply speaking up when you see injustice. I have since embraced the label as a reflection of my willingness to stand up for what’s right. My goal became raising awareness about the Sudanese conflict, which was largely being ignored by international and regional media.

I realised that activism isn't a one-size-fitsall concept; it's simply speaking up when you see injustice.

54

Women in Islam, 2025

more information. That’s when I realised the power of my voice; my words were influencing others. The responsibility felt both empowering and overwhelming.

What I said could either help or hurt people.

With my growing reach, the misunderstandings grew as well. For instance, my posts in solidarity with Palestine led many to assume I was tweeting from Gaza. While it felt frustrating to have my focus on Sudan overlooked, it felt natural to support the Palestinian people. As a Sudanese, I could relate to their sense of displacement, injustice, and loss, which deepened my understanding of global solidarity. Our struggles aren’t isolated; they’re part of a much larger fight for human rights and dignity.

In the Line of Fire

Finding my Voice

Unfortunately, using my voice also meant putting myself in the line of fire. Because I was exposing the atrocities I witnessed and countering the propaganda, both sides of the Sudanese conflict came after me, accusing me of spreading lies or taking sides.

When my posts started gaining traction, my platform grew overnight. People started thanking me for sharing detailed daily updates on the conflict and contacted me for

As I sought to hold people accountable, I often found myself drawn into debates I never intended to be a part of. For example, when a journalist made an offensive remark about skin colour after Egypt redirected aid to Gaza instead of Sudan, I called him

out on it. In response, I was labelled a troublemaker, and my credibility was questioned.

I was threatened and intimidated, with people trying to silence me and shut down my platform.

My home address was even sent to me in a direct message—a chilling reminder of the dangers of speaking out. It wasn’t just online trolling; it was real and terrifying.

While in the war zone, I constantly feared death and sexual violence by militiamen.

To make matters worse, the attacks were not limited to my views on Sudan—they extended to my identity as a Muslim. People would target my faith directly in their criticism. I was called a ‘terrorist sympathiser’ and told that my opinions didn’t matter simply because I was Muslim. Being a woman only made the abuse more personal and degrading. Some fellow Muslims, on the other hand, claimed that my online visibility as a woman went against the teachings of Islam. My

Illustration by OSMAN OBEID

response was simple: Islam teaches us to stand against injustice, and if using my voice to help others is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

Women in Islam, 2025

55

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

“ OMNIA MUSTAFA

holds an undergraduate degree in International Relations and Diplomatic Studies from Sudan’s National University and currently works as a teaching assistant.

The attacks were not limited to my views on Sudan—they extended to my identity as a Muslim.

Paying the Price The personal cost of my advocacy was high. I’ve lost friends over it. Some no longer understood where I was coming from, while others misinterpreted my posts and accused me of targeting them personally.

My family trusted and supported me, but feared for my safety. At times, the negativity and anxiety made me question if it was worth it. But each time I considered stepping back, I remembered why I started: people needed information, and I could provide it.

Through it all, I did find support. Strangers reached out to offer encouragement and help. The community I built gave me strength and kept me going when everything felt overwhelming. Their solidarity even threw me a lifeline. When the situation became too dangerous due to the escalating conflict and the personal risks arising from my advocacy, it allowed me to set up a GoFundMe campaign to raise the funds needed to evacuate my family from Sudan. Their solidarity was truly lifesaving, as my mother’s health

56

Women in Islam, 2025

had worsened, and she couldn’t receive the urgent brain surgery she needed due to the collapse of Sudan’s medical system. That kind of collective strength is something I’ll never forget.

Driving Change Looking back, my journey has been filled with fear and frustration, but also with empowerment. I’ve learnt that advocacy requires resilience and a willingness to withstand criticism. The online space can be brutal, but it can also drive change. My advice to new activists: stay true to your cause and find a support system— online or offline—because you’ll need it. Take care of your mental health as well; activism can take a toll, and it’s okay to take breaks when needed.

Moving forward, I want to keep advocating online for justice and human rights, especially in Sudan and Palestine. But I also want to expand my efforts beyond the digital space—into humanitarian aid, policy work, and tangible action. My goal remains the same: to use my platform to amplify voices that have long been silenced and to foster solidarity among oppressed communities. This path hasn’t been easy, but it’s one I’m committed to following.

OMNIA MUSTAFA

Men-struation ALITH CYER MAYAR

You don’t know the history of my pain.

I am Junub A woman in end-less men-struation Buying daily your pads to c-over and protect my skirt from stains I continue to bleed afraid to speak of my periods But now I say, “I am in pain, help me.”

Silent guns shoot through my womb 23, 32, 10 The pad seller continues to pray for income I continue to men-struate Loose so much blood Staining.

Artwork by SHAHINAZ SABEEL

ALITH CYER MAYAR is a writer and poet pursuing a career in Policy and Advocacy. Born in Khartoum, she grew up in Sudan, South Sudan, and Uganda. She published two books—The Cry of the South Sudanese Children and The Battle within me—and founded the Writers Writing Fellowship, which offers online storytelling workshops with South Sudanese youth. Her passions include parenting, mental health, trauma healing, cultural heritage and tradition, social justice and transformational leadership.

Women in Islam, 2025

57

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

Where Is Roqia?

A Mother’s Search in the Shadow of Sudan’s Conflict Since armed conflict erupted between the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) in April 2023, Sudan has seen a sharp increase in reports of abductions, sexual violence, and forced marriages.

Enforced disappearances have been especially prevalent in areas under RSF control—a paramilitary group with a longstanding record of abducting and enslaving women and girls. At the same time, there has been a troubling rise in the arbitrary arrest and profiling of women in parts of central Sudan where the SAF has regained control.

DEKA BARROW

is a researcher, writer, and digital storyteller with a background in International Relations. She is passionate about women’s issues and current affairs. Her work focuses on SubSaharan Africa, particularly the Horn of Africa.

“

Among the many personal tragedies is the disappearance of the 18-year-old Roqia. On the morning of June 26, 2023, Roqia left her family’s home in Tayba to fetch ice, as temperatures had become unbearable amid extended power outages. She was last seen south of Omdurman, an area controlled by the RSF at the time.

Her mother, Siham Ishaq Hassan, waited through the day. “As the hours passed, I told myself, ‘Maybe she’s at a friend’s house... maybe she lost track of time,’” Siham recalled. But when night fell and Roqia still hadn’t returned, the uncertainty became agonising. Siham began reaching out to relatives, friends, neighbours—anyone who might know where Roqia had gone. No one had seen her.

Siham’s concern quickly escalated into fear. “Roqia was excited about her future—she planned to marry her fiancé after finishing her final year of secondary school and she had no conflicts with her family. She wouldn’t just run away,” Siham insisted.

I may never see my So, what did happen? Terrifying daughter again. thoughts raced through her 58

Women in Islam, 2025

Photos by SIHA NETWORK

mind. Was she injured? Did she collapse from the heat?

Or… had she been kidnapped by the RSF? The RSF has been repeatedly accused by local and international observers of abducting and exploiting women and girls to instill fear and assert territorial control. For families like Siham’s, these allegations were no longer abstract.

A Search Without End Siham did not wait for answers to come to her. In the days following Roqia’s disappearance, she searched hospitals and mortuaries in the area, fearing her daughter had been injured or killed. She distributed flyers with Roqia’s photo and visited mosques, asking imams to announce her daughter’s disappearance

“

Women are often treated as spoils of war, with their abduction and exploitation seen as entitlements within the RSF's campaign of violence. during evening prayers. None of these efforts brought new information.

Desperate, Siham even scoured the Libya Market in Omdurman and approached the RSF-controlled police station there. The officers assured her they would help.

“If she’s alive, we will find her,” they told her.

Days turned into weeks with no word on Roqia’s whereabouts. Siham expanded her search. Alongside her other daughter, she travelled hundreds of kilometres—from Atbara in the northeast to Doka in Al-Qadarif State in the south—visiting every town, stopping at every checkpoint to inquire about Roqia.

They spoke to several SAF officers, showing Roqia’s picture and leaving behind flyers.

By November 2023, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. During her relentless pursuit, Siham had stopped eating and sleeping. Standing in Doka, overwhelmed by despair, she murmured, “But by Allah, the matter is with Him now.”

Photos by SIHA NETWORK

The Tragedy of Sudan’s Missing Women Siham’s story is not unique. According to data compiled by the Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa (SIHA), at least 236 women and girls were reported missing in Sudan between April 2023 and December 2024. Only 27 had been found at the time of reporting. Many of these women and girls vanished without a trace while attempting to flee conflict zones or when leaving the house to obtain food, medicine, or other necessities. In areas under RSF control, there are also repeated accounts of women being abducted from their homes, some at gunpoint.

Some women and girls were returned to their families after negotiations, while others were released after their families paid ransoms to the RSF. One particularly disturbing case involved a girl who was freed after a ransom was paid. She had been held captive with 19 other girls in a location where, she said, the bodies of other girls lay decomposing. Some of her fellow captives had been subjected to sexual slavery.

Such testimonies have fuelled growing concern about the fate of those still missing.

Women in Islam, 2025

59

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

“

Many cases go unreported due to fear, stigma, and the absence of effective reporting mechanisms. unreported due to fear, stigma, and the absence of effective reporting mechanisms. Families are often reluctant to speak out, fearing social repercussions.

This silence not only hampers efforts to understand the full scope of the crisis but also hinders the search for the missing and reinforces a culture of impunity.

For those who survive, there are little to no resources or services in Sudan to support their physical and psychological recovery. As a result, many survivors are left to grapple with profound shame and face immense challenges in reintegrating with their families and communities.

Photos by SIHA NETWORK

In Khartoum and other urban centres, reports have also emerged of women being held captive in their own homes, forced to cook, clean and perform other tasks for RSF soldiers. This pattern of forced servitude underscores the severe abuse and dehumanisation women endure. Women are often treated as spoils of war, with their abduction and exploitation seen as entitlements within the RSF’s campaign of violence.

Stigma and Global Outrage The true number of missing women and girls is likely far higher than documented. Many cases go

60

Women in Islam, 2025

The crisis of Sudan’s missing women has sparked international outcry. Activists have launched social media campaigns using hashtags such as #WhereDidYouTakeThem, #LostSudaneseSisters, and #BringSudanMissingGirlsAndWomenBack to demand justice and accountability. These efforts not only raise awareness about the victims’ fates but also encourage affected families to come forward, inspired by mothers like Siham.

Siham’s search—painstaking, exhausting, and still unanswered—continues to highlight a crisis that remains insufficiently addressed. As the violence drags on, one question lingers in households across the country: Where are our daughters?

DEKA BARROW

Open Letter: A Survivor’s Message to Her Perpetrator The ongoing conflict in Sudan is blatantly being waged on the bodies of women and girls—stripping away dignity and life. It is causing generational trauma so vast we cannot even begin to comprehend it. This open letter shares the raw testimony of a woman who survived such sexual violence.

By addressing her perpetrator directly, she begins to process this crime and courageously reclaim her body and voice. At just 26 years old, she has endured horrors no one should ever have to experience. Yet her cries echo the voices of many others.

To protect her identity and safety, aliases have been used for both the survivor and perpetrator.

To HM and his fellow criminals, You have lived through nineteen springs of armed violence, marked by daggers instead of flowers. Your life has not been measured by the passing of seasons, but by the number of your crimes—some documented, others hidden in the shadows. Instead of reaping the fruits of your own work and contributions, you harvested the pockets of innocent Sudanese. You destroyed the futures of women working towards their dreams and nurturing the hopes of their communities.

You ruined the 26 years my parents spent raising me, instilling in me the very values that led me to stand in the trenches, helping abandoned women whose bodies have been broken by hardship and pain. After that cursed day, I entered a year-long nightmare, haunted by memories. There came a moment when I stood on the edge of despair, torn between the temptation to end my life and the anvil of regret and self-loathing.

To HM, It did not matter to you that I had helped your sister, comforting her as a survivor of sexual violence—only for you to betray me and inflict the same agony on me. My pleas meant nothing to you—that I was close in age to your sister and that you were younger than my brother. It did not matter to you that I was unarmed, powerless and defenceless. Nor did it matter that you were a husband and a father—something you mentioned to me while I desperately attempted to dissuade you from committing your horrific crime.

To HM and his partners in crime, To those whose hearts have died and turned to stone, whose eyes are blind, and whose ears are deaf to my cries—I ask you: what twisted desire drove you to commit your crime? I have spent nearly a year searching for an answer that might help me heal.

To HM’s parents, HM’s crimes are the bitter fruits of seeds sown long ago. When you taught him that manhood is measured by domination and the wielding of weapons, when you instilled in him the belief that women are nothing but obedient, you raised a criminal. You welcomed back a looter bearing stolen goods, his hands stained with blood and the cries of women left in ruin.

To HM’s mother, I understand the lump in your throat over what happened to your daughter. But do you realise how many lumps your son has left in the throats of other mothers?

Women in Islam, 2025

61

THE PERSONAL AND THE POLITICAL

Illustrations by IBRAHIM SAYED

62

Women in Islam, 2025

To HM’s sister, I do not know why you exposed me—the one who helped you—to your criminal brother and his accomplices, serving me up to them for their revenge. I do not know what I did to deserve this from you. But I forgive you, because, like me, you are suffering.

To that house, I know you are cursed, for you have heard the cries of women within your walls, their screams echoing until they were etched into you. Do you feel their pain? I know with certainty that you grieve for the women who were brought to you as victims of rape.

I forgive you, for you are merely concrete and stone, powerless like me and my sisters, whose fates I do not know. I still hear my own cries echoing between your walls. Swallowed by sorrow, you have become a cold and silent place. I pity you, as I pity myself, for you, too, were defiled by a handful of criminals.

I promise you that one day I will return to water the dry bougainvillea tree by your door, so you may once again hear the rustling of its leaves when the wind caresses it, making its branches sway and whisper stories of life. Dear house, you will forget what you have endured. Laughter will return to you; the voices of children singing with their grandparents; the peaceful memories that families will create under your roof. Prayers and rituals will cleanse you, lifting the burden of sorrow.

To my twenty-six-year-old self, Another year has passed, yet I have not forgotten. I speak to you in a trembling voice, as if trying to convince myself that I am not completely broken. I stare at my reflection, searching my eyes for traces of who I once was, but all I see are invisible scars— wounds that do not bleed, yet still ache and refuse to fade.

An earthquake shook my being; a storm swept away my dreams. But I am here. Still here. I will remain. I refuse to be a product of crime or a forgotten story. I will rise from the ashes, like the phoenix, and stand tall.

To you, HM, I now face the rubble your crime has left inside of me. I bled in fear and was burnt by pain, but I did not perish. You did not win.

You were, and still are, a coward—a man who stole my strength with the power of a weapon, yet possesses none of my resilience.

And I will reclaim every part of myself until the day comes when the mention of your name, or the echo of your songs, no longer frightens me.

I loathed you and still do. I will not forget, and I will seek justice wherever you may flee. That will be your reckoning.

Women in Islam, 2025

63

PERSPECTIVES

Trigger Warning: This article contains graphic accounts of sexual violence and gender-based violence in times of war.

Reader discretion is advised.

No One Heard Her Bleed Gender-Based Violence in the Ethiopia-Tigray Conflict

Sexual violence has long been used as a brutal weapon of war—an intentional strategy to inflict physical and psychological harm, break communities, and assert dominance. In the Ethiopia-Tigray conflict (2020-2022), it was widespread and systematic, leaving deep scars that endure long after the fighting has stopped.

Gender-based violence (GBV) refers to any physical, sexual, psychological, or economic harm inflicted on a person because of their gender. While women and girls bear the brunt, men and boys can also be victims.

Rooted in power imbalances, gender inequality, and entrenched social norms, it continues to be a devastating tool in armed conflict.

“

During the war in Tigray, sexual violence was perpetrated by multiple parties. Survivors have shared accounts of mass rape and forced impregnation. Some were deliberately infected with HIV/AIDS. Others were mutilated with metal rods and sticks—attacks intended not only to injure, but to sterilise. In some of the most harrowing cases, victims were coerced into raping their own relatives.

Gender-based violence is a war crime meant to destroy the social fabric of a people.

Severe Implications

These acts are not just individual crimes. They are war crimes meant to destroy the social fabric of a people. Many survivors endure severe psychological trauma, including post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, panic attacks, substance abuse, suicidal thoughts, and obsessive-compulsive behaviours. For some, the violence has stripped away their sense of self, dignity,

64

Women in Islam, 2025

and humanity. The collective trauma will have long-term and intergenerational impacts on individuals, families, and communities. “…even dogs are treated better than me! What am I? I am less than a dog in the street.”

The physical consequences have been equally devastating. During the two-year blockade and siege of Tigray, access to healthcare was near-impossible.

Many survivors went without treatment for serious injuries. Chronic pain, infections, and reproductive health complications remain unaddressed, deepening their suffering.

“I still have a yellowish fluid coming out of me, which has a very strong, bad smell. I feel ashamed when my child comes close to my dress. I have pain in my womb that feels like someone is poking me with sharp items. I isolate myself even from my family members due to this. I do not sleep much.

If it weren’t for my children, I would wish not to wake up.”

The violence has also eroded the social cohesion of Tigrayan society. Many women have been abandoned by their partners after disclosing they were raped, left to shoulder the burden alone. Children have also been rejected by their fathers in an attempt to avoid social stigma. Despite being victims of war crimes, survivors

FEVEN TECLEHAIMANOT ARAYA is a

Illustrations by PHILI WEDI SHIRE

often face discrimination in their communities and many have been ostracised. Thousands have been displaced and are now living in camps where they are vulnerable to further abuse and exploitation.

This article shares testimonies from survivors of the Ethiopia-Tigray conflict collected by a clinical therapist working in the region between November 2020 and June 2021.

Rape in Front of a Family Member Mihret, a 27-year-old mother of two, once lived in Sheraro town in northwestern Tigray. She now resides in a camp for internally displaced persons. During the war, she was publicly gang-raped by three soldiers.

“I couldn’t comprehend what was happening!

The soldier raped me anally while I held my

licensed clinical psychologist, lecturer, and gender-based violence specialist.

During the Tigray war, she provided mental health and psychosocial support to survivors. She holds a BA in Psychology and an MSc in Clinical Psychology, and is authoring a book on treating survivors of conflict-related sexual violence.

Women in Islam, 2025

65

PERSPECTIVES

Mesouda was only 11 years old when she was snatched from her mother’s arms by five soldiers. Her mother recounts:

Illustrations by PHILI WEDI SHIRE

“

They said, 'If your husband did not give you HIV, we will give it to you now.' daughter on my back. My son was forced to watch, and he was crying out loud. The second soldier replaced the first one once he had had enough, and then the third one continued. I began to bleed from my buttocks. It was my son who saw me bleeding first. He used all the power he had and cried loudly, ‘Leave her alone! You made my mom bleed!’”

Child Rape Women and girls of all ages were raped during the conflict. Some children died as a result of the assaults.

66

Women in Islam, 2025

“It was around December. They came to our house asking for Siwa (traditional home brewed beer). I stated I am Muslim, and I do not brew alcohol. They were not happy. They asked my 11-year-old to come closer. I begged them. They put their gun in one of my eyes and told me to move. I did not know what to do other than being quiet. They removed my eyeball and raped her… (crying out loud).”

Raping Victims with Objects Survivors were also raped with inanimate objects, such as sticks, metal rods, and umbrellas. Several reported that perpetrators used these objects to deliberately mutilate their bodies and permanently damage their reproductive organs to sterilise them.

“He brought a large metal [bar] and handed it over to his boss. I could not understand why. I never assumed they would insert it into my sensitive area.

I started screaming and begging. I cannot even describe the pain. I cannot!”

“After raping me, they brought a stick with different branches on it. I was in pain and my mind was not working at all. I could not predict what the next atrocity would be. He said, ‘You should

never give birth again, let us damage this ***** womb.’ I cannot tell you what happened after that, my daughter.”

Deliberately Infecting and Impregnating Victims Some survivors testified that rape was carried out with the intent to infect them with sexually transmitted infections and diseases.

“I pleaded not to be raped because I didn’t want to be infected with HIV. They started laughing and said, ‘Let us call ***.’ They called a guy with HIV. They told him to rape me. They were all giggling.

I do not know what was funny about that. I was crying like crazy and screaming. Two of them held me on each side and he raped me.”

“I told them my husband might have HIV. I thought it would prevent me from being raped.

They looked at each other and laughed. They said, ‘If your husband did not give you HIV, we will give it to you now. You will give birth to a hybrid child from us with AIDS.’ I could not believe what I was hearing.”

A Culture of Impunity The implications of this widespread sexual violence against women have been largely overlooked in peace and post-war negotiations in Tigray. Legal support for

survivors remains minimal, and access to mental health and recovery services is scarce to non-existent.

Justice mechanisms—such as truth and reconciliation processes—are vital for healing, not only for individuals but for entire communities. Public education about GBV can help mitigate the stigma survivors face and foster an environment where accountability becomes possible. Yet, these steps have not been taken. Instead, women are left in a limbo of unresolved pain and silence.

“

Justice mechanisms are vital for healing, not only for individuals but for entire communities.

Ending impunity is essential. Legal systems must criminalise all forms of GBV and prosecute perpetrators at every level. Without justice, these crimes will continue to be repeated. Survivors of GBV in Tigray deserve more than our sympathy; they deserve recognition, healing, and justice. Their pain must not be pushed to the margins. Their voices must not be forgotten.

FEVEN TECLEHAIMANOT ARAYA Disclaimer: All interviews were recorded with the participants’ permission and all names have been changed.

The illustrations in this article are produced by survivors.

Women in Islam, 2025

67

PERSPECTIVES

Intersectional Invisibility

The Bias Against African Muslim Feminism “What’s a feminist?” I asked the young man, who had quickly labelled me as one on a chilly November evening in 2008. I was sixteen and had just written my first article as a first-year student for the Union of Campus Journalists at Nigeria’s University of Ilorin. The article was ‘too good’ to have been written by a girl. Rumours soon spread that one of my male friends must have been the real author, as I couldn’t possibly have produced such an intellectual piece.

“

Before long, I became the target of subtle but demeaning remarks. My writing had threatened the status quo, and some felt compelled to put me in my place. But I wasn’t having it. Since childhood, I had been aware of the misogyny embedded in our Yoruba society—one of the three largest ethnic groups in Nigeria—so I stood my ground. I poured my anger and emotions into words, questioning why women were expected to go to unreasonable lengths to prove themselves whenever they challenged the perceived notion of inferiority allotted to them.

While African feminists successfully carved out Then, the young man walked up space for their to me and said, “I just read your unique realities, article. You must be a feminist.” It was the very first time I heard that they largely word, and the first of many times I overlooked those would be called a feminist, simply standing up for myself. Long of African Muslim for before that encounter, I had been women. engaging in conversations about 68

Women in Islam, 2025

the deeply ingrained misogyny in our society. I devoured books on the topic, particularly Buchi Emecheta’s novels, which vividly portrayed the harsh reality of African women. Yet, until that moment, I had never come across the term ‘feminism’.

That conversation—and my new found understa nding of feminist movements—changed me.

It unearthed something I had been hesitant to express, for fear of standing alone. Not only did I suddenly realise that many others share my views, but it also gave me the courage to openly defy my society’s subjugation of women—an act considered an immoral affront to our culture at the time.

The Limits of Global Sisterhood When I started reading African feminist theories, I was elated to find ideas that mirrored mine. These ideas rejected the notion that Euro-American experiences could be used as a universal blueprint. Gender alone does not define women’s roles and social positions. Therefore, African feminists rightfully called for a recognition of the unique socio-cultural, religious, class, historical and economic factors shaping African women’s lives and choices.

For example, American philosopher Olufemi Taiwo critiques Euro-American scholars for overlooking

how I could be both Muslim and a feminist. They argued that my religious identity was incompatible with feminist values—like oil and water, two elements that could never mix.

Feminist scholars often dismissed Islam’s potential as an empowering force in the lives of African Muslim women. In Recreating Ourselves: African Women and Critical Transformations, Nigerian activist Molara Ogundipe-Leslie identifies six forces that oppress African women, listing “European Illustration by GHAZAL QADRI Colonisation and Islam” as the first. She argues that both are Africa’s “bewildering diversity” and urges them to foreign to African culture and have approach the continent with greater respect and humility. undermined traditional societies, The argument is clear: African women’s value systems stripping women of their roles. She must be respected by Western feminists and scholars, further claims that female leadership who are quick to condemn cultural practices that differ in Islam is inconceivable and asserts from their own. that African Muslim women retain certain economic freedoms not The Bias Against Islam because of Islam, but in spite of it—crediting this to the inherent While African feminists successfully carved out space economic equality in African for their unique realities, they largely overlooked those cultures. of African Muslim women. I noticed a glaring omission in their theories: the absence of Islamic perspectives. So, Similarly, in The Status of African where did I, a black African Muslim woman, fit into all Women in Indigenous African of this? Identifying as a feminist forced me to consider Societies, American academic Niara Sudarkasa claims the multiple layers of my identity. People often asked that women in precolonial Africa held significant

“

Identifying as a feminist forced me to consider the multiple layers of my identity.

Women in Islam, 2025

69

PERSPECTIVES

WARDAH ABBAS is a

Nigerian lawyer, essayist, poet, and social justice activist. Her writing explores the intersections of gender, culture, identity, and Islam, and has been published in various journals worldwide. She is also the founder of The Muslim Women Times, a media platform dedicated to centring the diverse perspectives of Muslim women.

political power—except in highly Islamised societies.

Yet she ignores historical evidence of numerous African Muslim women who wielded considerable socio-political influence. For instance, Nana Asma’u, the daughter of Sokoto Caliphate founder Usmanu Dan Fodiyo, was a highly educated scholar who championed women’s education and socio-political rights in 19th-century Nigeria.

Despite the many examples of African Muslim women contributing to their societies—in the past as well as today—African feminists often exclude these voices from the narrative. They tend to label Islam as ‘foreign’ and ‘un-African’, while defending other African cultural practices as ‘diverse’ and ‘valid’. This imposes a single, universal definition of empowerment on all women, disregarding the diverse experiences and perspectives of African women. In doing so, African feminists must be careful to not become the very thing they oppose.

Their selective recognition of feminism mirrors the exclusionary tendencies of Western feminism and alienates a significant portion of African women.

Islamic Feminism: Bridging Faith and Equality Islamic feminism seeks to reconcile faith and feminism, recognising that women’s struggles within Muslim communities are shaped by a complex interplay of culture, history, and religion. To truly understand the synergy between feminism and Islam, we must engage with these perspectives, because Islam and feminism are not mutually exclusive, contrary to popular belief.

A societal structure is possible in which women can fight for equality from within Islamic traditions, by asserting their right to engage with and interpret religious law. Most Islamic feminists work to reinterpret religious texts in ways that affirm women’s rights, distinguishing Islam itself from the patriarchal interpretations of its doctrines.

A clear example of this is Morocco’s 2004 legal reform, which redefined marriage as an equal partnership

70

Women in Islam, 2025

“

Feminism should not require me to erase parts of myself. If the movement truly stands for equality, then it must make room for women like me— African, Muslim, feminist, and proud. between spouses. This reform granted women the right to initiate divorce and protected them from talaq, the practice of unilateral divorce by husbands.

A Call for True Inclusivity To be considered a feminist today, I am expected to leave my skin colour and/or faith at the door. Unless I strip away these vital parts of my identity, I am not seen as a ‘real’ feminist. Some look at my headscarf and assume it was forced on me. More than a simple misperception, this reflects a deeper, wilful ignorance of the fact that Muslim women are a heterogeneous group with diverse perspectives. While some are indeed forced to wear the headscarf and experience it as a form of oppression, others view the veil as a source of empowerment and liberation.

The truth is that feminism should not require me to erase parts of myself. If the movement truly stands for equality, then it must make room for women like me—African, Muslim, feminist, and proud. It is time to incorporate true equality into the mainstream definition of feminism and amplify Muslim voices from the Middle East, Africa, and Asia.

WARDAH ABBAS

The Burden of Shame

How Sexual Violence Is Fuelling Sudan’s Collapse Why does sexual violence surge in times of war? Sudanese psychiatrist Dr. Mawada Adam explores how it is weaponised to instil shame, fracture communities, and unravel the social fabric.

April 2023 marked a devastating turning point in Sudan’s history. Within days, the country spiralled into a brutal civil war, triggering one of the largest humanitarian crises on record. Over 12.8 million Sudanese have so far been forcibly displaced—roughly a quarter of the population.1 The destruction I witnessed, irrevocably altered my understanding of my home country. As a psychiatrist and a Sudanese woman, I began to reflect on the cultural undercurrents that have shaped our nation since its independence in 1956. Gender-based violence is not new in Sudan, nor is this our first civil war. But something feels different this time: there is a collective aftershock, a kind of apocalyptic unravelling. What role does shame play in all of this?

reaching out for help, many survivors turn inward, silenced by fear of judgment or rejection. But shame thrives in silence. It lodges itself in the body, haunting and festering, as long as we bow our heads and shrink ourselves into invisibility.

“

Sexual violence doesn't just destroy bodies; it corrodes identity and disconnects us from ourselves and each other.

Research has long shown shame’s link to post-traumatic stress disorder and other psychological injuries. Yet too little attention is paid to how shame uniquely affects women who endure sexual violence in conflict.

Their stories are often buried—hidden by fear and erased by stigma in a culture that mistakes silence for dignity.

Shame and the Self

Generational Scars

To explore this question, we must first understand shame itself. Shame is not just an emotion; it is a physical response to perceived failure, wrongdoing, or inadequacy. It stems from internalised social, cultural and religious expectations, combined with local power dynamics.

On a societal level, the effect of shame is amplified; it fuels intergenerational trauma and weakens the social fabric. To understand how deeply embedded this is, we must look to our history. Over the past century, Sudan has not only endured British colonisation and multiple civil wars, but it has also undergone profound cultural shifts that redefined womanhood through suppression and control.

Unlike more fleeting emotions, shame lingers. While anger can drive action and grief can invite support, shame isolates, leaving people feeling anxious, helpless and disconnected. Shame burrows deep into the psyche, eroding self-worth and fracturing identity. Instead of

The concept of shame as we understand it in Sudan today is relatively modern. It has been shaped by colonialism, religious fundamentalism, and political

1

World Health Organization, Public Health Situation Analysis: Sudan Conflict (10 March 2025) (Geneva: WHO, 2025). https://www. who.int/publications/m/item/ public-health-situation-analysis--sudan-conflict -(10-march-2025).

Women in Islam, 2025

71

PERSPECTIVES

“

Shame thrives in silence. It becomes lodged in the body—haunting and festering—long as we bow our heads and shrink ourselves into invisibility. manipulation. I remember stories from our greatgrandmothers walking topless in traditional attire, proud and unashamed. Back then, Afrocentric indigenous womanhood was celebrated, but over time it was reduced to a symbol of vulnerability, becoming a target for control and violence.

This erosion did not happen overnight. In the decades following independence, Sudan’s trajectory shifted dramatically. The Sudan of the 1950s to 1970s was a place of relative intellectual freedom and artistic expression.

But after the introduction of shari’ah law in the 1980s, women’s bodies became ideological battlegrounds. To be clear, this is not a critique of religion. It is a call to confront how religious narratives have been misused to control and traumatise.

Weak leadership, rising corruption, and the fusion of patriarchal religious ideologies with state power allowed shame to seep into the national psyche. What followed was a system of authoritarian conditioning—one that

72

Women in Islam, 2025

bred division, even within families. In a single household, you might find three generations shaped by different forces: a grandmother holding on to cultural traditions, a mother conditioned by state-enforced obedience, and a daughter punished for questioning both.

The Public Order Police, introduced during this period, did not bring order—they brought fear. They dehumanised women, reducing them to property owned by fathers, husbands, or brothers. From an early age, girls were taught to avert their gaze, cover their bodies, and obey. Defiance was met with punishment. Teachers, for instance, could cut a girl’s hair for not covering it ‘properly’, without her parents’ consent. Police were allowed to beat women for perceived disobedience. In a system that considered female autonomy a threat, silence became a survival strategy.

Today’s Sudan is marked by surveillance and moral policing. Public shame has become institutionalised, and stigma has driven countless survivors into isolation, exile, or even suicide. The fear of being disowned or shunned by their own families often outweighs the trauma of the event itself, which prevents survivors from speaking out.

Sexual Violence as a War Strategy The surge of sexual violence in times of war is not incidental—it is strategic. Sexual violence has long been

Illustration by AYN SAID

Women in Islam, 2025

73

PERSPECTIVES

DR. MAWADA ADAM is a

member of the Royal College of Psychiatrists and a consultant psychiatrist with the National Health Service (UK). She is the co-founder of Collective Circles, an organisation that cultivates healing spaces for communities affected by conflicts.

“

For healing to begin, we must name what we've inherited and choose to listen, speak, and honour the truth, even when it hurts. used as a brutal tool of war, not only to harm individuals, but to fracture societies and sustain conflict. Its goal is to dismantle the social fabric woven by women and traumatise a population for generations to come. Its power lies not only in the act itself, but in its aftermath.

It seeks to silence, and shame is its most powerful accomplice.

We’ve seen this before: in Darfur, in the Nuba Mountains, and in South Sudan. But we cannot treat it as a historical footnote. It is happening now. We must confront its recurrence in the present and recognise

74

Women in Islam, 2025

shame as a weapon, as a form of psychological warfare.

Our personal traumas are not isolated. They echo across Sudan and the diaspora.

The war in Sudan is not just a political crisis. It is a moral reckoning. Its roots lie in decades of marginalisation, colonial scars, and internalised oppression. We have allowed intertribal racism, Arabisation, and false narratives of nationalism to divide us. The war is not only being waged between two generals. It lives inside us, in our polarisation and our disconnection.

And yet, there is hope; it lies in Sudan’s youth and in its women. But healing cannot happen in silence. If we are to rebuild, we must lift the veil of silence. We must choose to speak, even when it’s painful. To listen, even when it’s uncomfortable. To honour the truth, even when it implicates us. Will we choose to see it? Or will we continue to bury our heads in the sand?

DR. MAWADA ADAM

Film Review: Dancing the Twist in Bamako Dancing the Twist in Bamako is a gripping exploration of postcolonial Mali, where youthful idealism clashes with entrenched traditions and the vested interests of the political establishment. Through brilliant cinematography and nuanced storytelling, the film exposes the multi-layered power struggles and the enduring quest for justice. A must-watch for everyone who continues the fight for equality.

I watched Dancing the Twist in Bamako twice. On my first viewing, I was captivated by the stunning settings, the authentic performances, and the meticulous craftsmanship in both production and writing. Director Robert Guédiguian—who co-wrote the film with Gilles Taurand—masterfully uses these elements to portray the complex challenges faced by post-colonial sub-Saharan African governments.

During my second viewing, I was struck by the film’s profound intensity and depth. It sensitively explores the intricate dynamics of social and political upheaval, delving into gender relations, power struggles, and the enduring grip of patriarchy. This struggle is personified in Lara, a young woman who defies deep-rooted traditions that jeopardise her well-being and humanity.

Her pursuit of freedom and equality leads her to join the socialist youth movement, declaring: “We are all equal even though we are not alike.”

Bamako’s Idealistic Revolutionaries Set in 1962, the story unfolds in Bamako—the capital of Mali—and its surrounding rural areas during the socialist presidency of Modibo Keïta, the country’s first post-independence leader. At its centre is Samba, a passionate young socialist who believes in collective power as a force for change. His ideals of social justice and equality are mirrored in his relationship with Lara, a pregnant young woman escaping a forced marriage.

Alongside their peers in the youth movement, Samba and Lara challenge the entrenched power structures rooted in land ownership, business interests, and social hierarchy. Their rebellion is expressed not only through political action but also through cultural defiance— dancing the Twist to popular American and French songs. This embrace of Western music draws sharp criticism from the ruling socialist elite. “Youth energy

must be focused on something other than wiggling around,” one party leader remarks.

In response, the authorities shut down The Happy Boys Club, Bamako’s socialist youth centre, denouncing it as a symbol of imperialist influence.

As tensions between the socialists and business owners rise, contradictions within families become more pronounced. Samba’s father, a wealthy textile businessman, struggles when the communist government’s export embargo cripples his trade with Senegal and Ghana. When business owners organise protests, the regime responds with repression, leading to his arrest.

Caught between his father’s legitimate grievances and his own political convictions, Samba is forced to confront

“

The film sensitively explores the intricate dynamics of social and political upheaval, delving into gender relations, power struggles, and the enduring grip of patriarchy.

Women in Islam, 2025

75

PERSPECTIVES

HALA ALKARIB is a

Sudanese women’s rights advocate and a leading voice in African feminism. She is also an analyst and essayist, contributing to both international and national media. She serves as the Regional Director of the Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa (SIHA) and as the Editorial Head of the Women in Islam Journal.

the harsh reality of a regime more interested in consolidating power than delivering justice.

Disillusionment deepens when the youth movement discovers that the regime has infiltrated their ranks, with some members spying for the authorities and betraying their comrades. In a poignant moment, Samba reflects, “We are not ready for socialism.” The onceunified movement fractures as some prioritise personal advancement within the regime over the collective fight for social justice and meaningful economic growth.

The film concludes with a stark shift to the present, highlighting the enduring struggles across the Sahel: rising religious extremism, military rule, and the continued repression of women.

Colonialist Shadows Dancing the Twist in Bamako portrays a young generation striving to build a socially and economically just society in post-colonial Mali. Determined to modernise their country, they embrace socialism and sever colonial ties, only to confront a harsh reality: the clash between tradition and reform, the prevalence of corruption, and power-hungry elites who manipulate political slogans to cement their power.

The film skilfully explores the internal tensions among African elites, caught between aspirations for modern statehood and a reliance on outdated traditions to retain power. Their rhetoric on national development frequently ignores the very people such progress is meant to serve.

Women’s rights, in particular, are sidelined under the pretext of preserving cultural and traditional values— though these arguments often mask a deeper resistance

76

Women in Islam, 2025

to recognising women as central agents in society. At its core, the film offers a sharp critique of neocolonial dynamics, illustrating how Mali’s post-independence leadership in the 1960s merely shifted its allegiance— from French colonial influence to alignment with the Soviet Union.

More than sixty years later, Mali remains trapped in cycles of dependence, its hopes for self-sufficiency and sovereignty repeatedly dashed. Yet, Dancing the Twist in Bamako is not just a film about Mali—it echoes the story of every African nation. Decades after independence, the struggle to build functional nation-states persists, as elites continue to falter and deepen the suffering of their people. The extraction and exploitation of Africa’s natural resources remain largely unchecked, while the well-being of the majority is increasingly disregarded.

This film is essential viewing for everyone, but especially for those who continue to fight against injustice and strive for peace, justice, prosperity, and equality.

HALA ALKARIB

DOSSIER: GUARDIANSHIP

Artwork by Amel Bashir

GUARDIANSHIP

A Feminist Reading of Wilayah and Qiwamah The Islamic concepts of wilayah (moral guardianship) and qiwamah (caretaking) have long been invoked to justify male authority over women in Muslim legal thought. This dossier introduction offers a critical feminist reading of both concepts.

This introduction draws on insights from Asma Lamrabet’s article An Egalitarian Reading of the Concepts of Khilafah, Wilayah, and Qiwamah. The original was published in Men in Charge? Rethinking Authority in Muslim Legal Traditions, a book widely recognised as one of the most rigorous academic contributions by feminist scholars to date. It challenges patriarchal interpretations of Islamic texts without dismissing the contributions of classical scholars. Instead, it situates their work within the socio-political contexts in which they operated and opens the door to more inclusive readings grounded in contemporary realities.

“

Isolating verses or terms has enabled restrictive and unequal readings that conflict with the Qur'an's egalitarian vision for all people.

To make the complex concepts in this important body of work more accessible to a wider audience engaged in social justice work, Musawah developed a reader’s guide in 2022. Musawah is a global movement for equality and justice in the Muslim family that advances human rights for women living in Muslim contexts. It brings together organisations, activists, scholars, legal practitioners,

78

Women in Islam, 2025

policymakers, and women and men from around the world. The following concepts are drawn from this guide.

Historical Misinterpretation Lamrabet argues that three Qur’anic concepts reflect Islam’s core spiritual commitment to justice and equality:

Istikhlaf (stewardship):

All humans, regardless of gender, are equal representatives (khalifah) of God on earth.

Wilayah (moral guardianship):

A shared responsibility among all people to do good and prevent evil.

Qiwamah (caretaking/ management):

The communal management of public and private spaces by all individuals, regardless of gender.

However, these concepts have been misinterpreted historically to uphold unequal patriarchal structures.

Lamrabet emphasises that they must be understood within the broader ethical and spiritual framework of the

“

All individuals share equal responsibility for social and moral stewardship.

Qur’an—rather than in isolation. Taking verses or terms out of context has enabled restrictive and unfair readings that conflict with the Qur’an’s universal message of justice and equality.

Lamrabet further identifies five core Qur’anic ethical values necessary for humans to fulfill their role as representative of God on earth. These affirm the Qur’an’s inclusive and egalitarian vision for all people, regardless of gender or culture.

‘Ilm (knowledge) ‘Adl (justice) Hurriyyat al-mu’taqad (freedom of belief) Ikhtilaf (diversity) Mahabbah (love)

Returning to the Ethical Meaning Lamrabet critiques how caliphs and classical scholars narrowed the concept of khilafah, turning it into a political tool for male rulers, often granting them unchecked power. She argues for a return to the original ethical meaning of the term: that all individuals share equal responsibility for social and moral stewardship.

True gender equality, she posits, is not only a spiritual imperative but also a prerequisite for societal progress.

It is through exercising responsibility that individuals can achieve true freedom.

Lamrabet concludes with a call to reclaim the Qur’anic meanings of qiwamah and wilayah, integrating them with concepts like khilafah and grounding them in the Qur’an’s ethical vision. In doing so, she advocates for a reformist and progressive approach to building knowledge that is loyal to the spiritual message of Islam.

Summarised by the Women in Islam Editorial Board, this article draws on Asma Lamrabet’s contribution to Musawah’s Feminist Reader’s Guide to Men in Charge?

Rethinking Authority in Muslim Legal Tradition, published in 2022.

ASMA LAMRABET

Women in Islam, 2025

79

GUARDIANSHIP

Who Was the Guardian of the Queen of Sheba?

A Call for Reinterpreting Male Guardianship Guardianship should be determined by ability, not gender. The Queen of Sheba’s story is a powerful reminder of that, showcasing that women can lead with wisdom and strength. As Muslim societies move forward, we must honour her legacy by ensuring that every woman has the freedom to reach her full potential.

Guardianship: Then and Now The concept of guardianship–known as wilayah (Arabic: ‫–)ِوِالية‬refers to one person’s authority over another. In Islamic jurisprudence, it is understood as the ability to act on someone else’s behalf, whether they consent or not. This authority extends beyond public figures like judges, imams, and police officers, reaching into private spheres by allowing adults to manage a minor’s personal and financial affairs or granting a husband oversight of his wife.

Scholars often justify guardianship as a way to protect and provide for those deemed vulnerable, such as women and children. In early Islamic societies, this rationale may have seemed logical. Physical strength was vital

“

The story of the Queen of Sheba serves as a powerful reminder of women's potential to lead, inspire, and break free from patriarchal control.

80

Women in Islam, 2025

in an era focused on territorial expansion and defence against oppressors, leading men to take on roles as protectors and providers. This dynamic translated into material advantages for men and the systemic exclusion of women from economic and political spheres.

I argue, however, that guardianship is neither an absolute necessity nor a natural relationship amongst members of a society. The Queen of Sheba, a historical figure whose existence predates Islam, serves as a prominent example. She ruled her kingdom with wisdom and independence, proving that women can successfully lead without the constraints of guardianship.

The Queen of Sheba as a Role Model The Queen of Sheba, or Bilqis, lived in the 10th century BCE as a contemporary of the Prophet Solomon (Sulaiman). Before her father, the king, passed away, he praised her wisdom and sound judgement in a speech to his advisors, affirming her capability to rule. As a leader, she inspired loyalty, trust, and pride among her people.

Bilqis’ legacy goes beyond her worldly leadership. The Qur’an extensively describes her strength and authority in Surah An-Naml: “I found a woman ruling over them.

She has been given [an abundance] of all things and she has a mighty throne.” (Qur’an, 27:23). Despite this clear precedent, religious interpretations often rely on isolated hadiths, taken out of their historical context, to deny women the sovereignty they deserve.

During my teenage years, I grappled with the ideals of feminism and Islam, finding solace in the story of Bilqis.

Illustration by MUNIRA YUSSUF

Women in Islam, 2025

81

GUARDIANSHIP

“ NOUR SALAHALDIN HEMAIDDA EL FAKI is a fourth-year medical student at the University of Khartoum.

She works as a freelance writer for the Andariya digital platform and is the founder and director of the Storyteller Project for the Sudanese Story Club. She has received several creative writing awards in Sudan and across the Arab world, including the Ghada Youth Award (2016) and the Tayeb Salih Youth Award (2020).

Achieving true change requires more than revisiting religious texts and amending laws; it demands action.

Her legacy became a beacon of hope, even as I felt sorrow for the plight of Muslim women today. Many remain confined by a system rooted in the belief that they are inherently inferior and emotionally volatile. The story of the Queen of Sheba serves as a powerful reminder of women’s potential to lead, inspire, and break free from patriarchal control.

A Call for Interpretative Judgement Discussions on women’s rights in Islam frequently refer to the Prophet’s wives and female companions while neglecting the Queen of Sheba. Her omission may reflect the societal context of early Islamic eras, in which historical conditions and prevailing social norms likely restricted women’s agency. However, the positions of power held by women in both pre-Islamic societies and today suggest that the circumstances of early Islamic times may no longer be relevant.

Islamic tradition emphasises ijtihad, the reinterpretation of religious teachings to address changing times. Leaders like Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab (586-644)—the second Muslim caliph, to whom the structure and legal practice of the later Islamic empire is largely due—exemplified this principle by adapting Islamic rulings to ensure fairness. For instance, he modified inheritance laws to grant women a larger share of their husbands’ wealth, recognising their contributions to the family’s prosperity.

Similarly, Muslim feminists today call for a reevaluation of male guardianship. While this concept may have had a purpose in the past, it now serves as a significant barrier to women’s advancement. Failing to recognise Islam’s adaptability and expansive nature

82

Women in Islam, 2025

deprives women of opportunities for growth and empowerment. It is time to prioritise reason over tradition.

Empowering Women Achieving true change requires more than revisiting religious texts and amending laws; it demands action.

Sudan offers a clear example of the complexities involved in challenging male dominance. Patriarchal attitudes thrive in the country, which is burdened by economic hardships and political instability. In such contexts, restrictions on women’s rights often stem from cultural customs rather than religious teachings, necessitating social transformation.

For over 35 years, Sudanese women have grappled with the Personal Status Law. Rooted in discriminatory provisions, it undermines women’s autonomy and dehumanises influential female figures in society.

Under Article 33, guardianship is exclusively assigned to Muslim men of sound mind, granting them authority over critical decisions, including marriage. This means a woman can effectively be married without her consent if her guardian approves.

Other provisions, such as Articles 25 and 32 through 42, further curb women’s agency and restrict their access to economic resources. Article 25, for instance, stipulates three conditions for a valid marriage contract: the testimonies of two witnesses, payment of a dowry, and the consent of a male guardian. These requirements reinforce the notion that women are minors under perpetual male guardianship.

Real change, therefore, requires empowering women through education, employment, and financial independence. When women can support themselves and make their own decisions, they are better equipped to challenge and overcome the constraints of male guardianship.

NOUR SALAHALDIN HEMAIDDA EL FAKI

“Reforming the Law Is Not Enough”

The Struggle to Lower Jordan’s Legal Guardianship Age In 2010, Jordan lowered the legal guardianship age for women from 40 to 30—an improvement achieved after years of advocacy. Nadia Shamroukh, General Manager of the Jordanian Women's Union (JWU), played a key role in the coalition that pushed for this reform. Still, the change did not go far enough. “Our goal remains to reduce the guardianship age for women to 18,” she says.

Born in Palestine, Nadia Shamroukh grew up in a refugee camp near Amman, Jordan. She worked as a schoolteacher before pursuing a law degree at Sudan’s Al-Neelain University. After 12 years of volunteering with JWU, she was appointed General Manager in 2002.

Today, the union runs 17 branches and two shelters across Jordan and relies on over 100 employees and 1,000 volunteers.

How does male guardianship restrict women’s autonomy in Jordan?

“Under Jordanian family law, any unmarried woman remains under the legal guardianship of her father until the age of 30. If the father is absent, another male family member assumes this role,” Shamroukh explains. A guardian’s approval is required for marriage, but his authority extends far beyond that—he can control many aspects of a woman’s personal life, including her clothing, friendships, and education. “Some fathers prevent their daughters from attending university, effectively curtailing their independence and future prospects.”

The male guardian also has the legal right to force a woman under 30 to return to the family home if he deems it unsafe for her to live independently. “If he reports her to the police, authorities are obligated to return her to her family—unless she can provide evidence of abuse,” Shamroukh says. However, when women report abuse, intervention is far from guaranteed, as societal norms often reinforce the guardian’s authority. “Many young

women avoid seeking help altogether, fearing stigma and potential repercussions at home.”

What other consequences does male guardianship have?

Jordan’s guardianship laws not only have far-reaching consequences for women but also for their children. “In cases of divorce, mothers typically receive custody, but legal guardianship remains with the father,” Shamroukh explains. “This means that while a mother may enrol her children in school, for example, the father has the power to overrule her decision.”

Shamroukh recalls one case in which a divorced woman received minimal alimony from her wealthy ex-husband while raising their five children. Unable to afford the international school they had attended before

“

Gender equality cannot be separated from broader social justice issues. Arab societies as a whole face repression, not just women. How can we advocate for women's workforce integration when there are no jobs for anyone?

Women in Islam, 2025

83

GUARDIANSHIP

LIEN SANTERMANS is the Editorial Coordinator of the Women in Islam Journal.

A seasoned writer and editor, she brings over a decade of experience working with non-profit organisations across Europe and the Middle East.

Passionate about gender justice and human rights, she specialises in storytelling that amplifies marginalised voices.

the divorce, she enrolled them in a public school: “Upon learning this, the father intervened, allowing the four girls to remain in public school while transferring their brother back to an international school.”

Although mothers shoulder the primary responsibility for child-rearing, fathers retain sole decision making authority. This reflects entrenched gender stereotypes: men are seen as too busy or incapable of caring for children, while women are considered too emotional to make rational decisions. “The JWU is advocating for equal guardianship rights for both parents,” Shamroukh explains, “to ensure that decisions are made in the best interest of the child rather than out of spite between expartners. Changing this law could also spark a broader societal re-evaluation of gender roles within families.”

What steps has the JWU taken to change the legal guardianship age for women?

The JWU has been advocating for family law reform since 1998. “Our first campaign focused on early marriage,” Shamroukh recalls. “Although our proposals led to legal amendments, a judicial clause still allows judges to approve early marriages.” Official data showed that 5,000 girls under 18 were married in 2023. While this marks a decline from previous years, early marriage still disproportionately affects girls, as only 100 underage boys were married that same year.

“

Feminist movements in the Global South need to assert themselves on the international stage, which is dominated by Western narratives that overlook the struggles we face.

84

Women in Islam, 2025

To push for further reforms in guardianship, custody, divorce, early marriage, and polygamy laws, the JWU collaborated with organisations in Egypt, Lebanon, Palestine, and Jordan from 2007 to 2010.

“After working with judges in all four countries for three years, we submitted our suggestions to our respective governments,” Shamroukh says. “In Jordan, this led to several legal changes, including lowering the guardianship age for women to 30, extending maternal custody rights until a child turns 18 (previously 11), and streamlining the divorce process for women, allowing them to obtain a unilateral divorce in months rather than years.”

Despite these advancements, the reforms remain incomplete. “Our goal remains to reduce the legal guardianship age for women to 18, as is already the case for boys,” Shamroukh reasserts.

What are the legal and societal obstacles to reform?

Since 2018, Shamroukh has been leading a coalition spanning 13 Arab countries—Morocco, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Sudan, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Palestine—working toward a regional civil law that would include family law. However, efforts to introduce it have been met with resistance, as Jordan’s constitution mandates that family law be governed by religious principles—either Sharia law or church law.

In response, the coalition has engaged Islamic and Christian scholars from across the Arab world, who have provided theological arguments demonstrating that the proposed reforms align with religious teachings. “Our advocacy does not oppose religion,” Shamroukh explains.

“Rather, we call for the separation of religion and state so that matters such as divorce, inheritance, guardianship, and marriage are governed by a secular legal system that

ensures equality for all citizens, regardless of their religious affiliation.”

“We are not just reforming articles,” Shamroukh explains. “We are building a new legal framework from the ground up— one that requires constitutional amendments.

This is not a five- or ten-year project. If this law passes one day, it will mean that we have essentially become secular states. I hope to live long enough to see it.”

What is needed for long-term progress on women’s rights in Jordan?

“Women’s rights are human rights. To improve them, we need justice for all,” Shamroukh clarifies, stressing that gender equality cannot be separated from broader social justice issues. “Arab societies as a whole face repression, not just women. How can we advocate for women’s workforce integration when there are no jobs for anyone?”

For Shamroukh, equality must extend to everyone.

“Some family law provisions disadvantage men, too,” she points out. “A working wife or mother bears no legal financial responsibility for the family, which is unfair.

And in divorce cases, why should custody automatically go to the mother instead of allowing for co-parenting?

We should assess which parent is best placed to care for the children.”

While legal reforms are essential, they are not enough.

“We need a social revolution that transforms political, religious, and cultural structures,” she argues. “Achieving this requires broad societal engagement. That is why the JWU continues to educate the public on feminism and the benefits of legal equality. We don’t just need to change

Illustration by HUSSEIN SALIM

the law; we need to change the entire way of thinking.”

What message do you have for feminist movements in other countries?

“Feminist movements in the Global South need to assert themselves on the international stage, which is dominated by Western feminist narratives that overlook the struggles we face,” Shamroukh says.

“By unifying our discourse, we can ensure that our issues are acknowledged and addressed. That is why the JWU is currently strengthening its ties with organisations in Ghana and South Africa and welcomes any initiative that fosters solidarity among women’s rights advocates.”

LIEN SANTERMANS

Women in Islam, 2025

85

GUARDIANSHIP

A Man Can Be a Feminist Too

A Story of Guardianship, Justice, and a Father’s Love In the past, unwanted daughters were sometimes buried alive: “And when the baby girl, buried alive, is asked for what sin she was killed.” (Qur’an 81:8–9). Today, they are silenced in other ways—through denial of education, inheritance, and the right to make decisions about their own lives. But what happens when a man, raised within a patriarchal society, chooses to reject this system?

My grandfather, Salem, was born in the late 1950s in rural India. He was an uneducated man in the formal sense. He had no degree to frame on the wall, no certificates to attest to his intelligence. Yet, his wisdom and experience made him far more enlightened than his educated brothers, who upheld rigid ideas of male dominance. In a world where men were expected to control women’s lives, Salem believed in empowering them.

At first glance, Salem seemed conservative—stern, quiet, and bound by tradition. But his actions told a different story. He refused to let his wife, Zohra, walk behind him in the marketplace, insisting that a woman should walk beside her husband, not trail behind him like a shadow. He rejected the idea that daughters were burdens, despite societal pressure. When his wife gave birth to daughters, his father’s resentment was palpable.

Yet, Salem never once wavered in his love for them.

Illustration by GALAL YOUSIF

86

Women in Islam, 2025

When his eldest daughter married, he didn’t simply hand her over to another man’s guardianship. Instead, he gave her words of wisdom, preparing her for a world that might not be as kind to her as he had been. And when she gave birth to two daughters, he worried. Not because they were girls, but because he didn’t want them to suffer the same fate he had witnessed for so many women.

He prayed for a grandson, not out of preference for a

male heir, but out of fear that only a son could protect his daughter and her rights in a system that refused to recognise women as equals.

Divine Justice The true test of his beliefs came when it was time to distribute the family property. His father, like many men of his time, believed that only sons should inherit wealth, while daughters were to be ‘married off’. Though Salem had worked tirelessly to build the family business from a young age—while his brothers pursued education— his father refused to acknowledge his right to a share, let alone that of his daughters.

A fortune teller once predicted that Salem would die before his father. Whether he believed it or not, he prepared accordingly, securing wealth outside of the family inheritance so that his daughters and wife would never be left at the mercy of his brothers. He would often tell them, “If you don’t give my daughters their due, I will meet you on the Day of Judgment.” His words were not just a warning but a reminder that justice is not just a worldly matter—it is divine.

After Salem’s passing, his fears proved true. His father lived on for several more years, and when he eventually died, the male heirs divided the family business among

themselves, excluding Salem’s daughters. His wife, Zohra, now a widow, was bullied by her brother-inlaw’s wife and treated as an outsider in the home she had once shared with her husband.

But Salem had taught her resilience. She took the wealth he had left her, moved out, and built her own home. In her late fifties, she chose independence over silent suffering. Eventually, she travelled for Hajj with her daughters and son-in-law, closing one chapter of her life but never letting go of the autonomy she had claimed with Salem’s support.

Salem was a guardian, but not in the way his society expected. He did not see guardianship as control but as protection, justice, and love. He proved that a man— educated or not—could be a feminist in the truest sense.

Male guardianship, as practiced today, often robs women of their agency. But if more men were like Salem, it could mean something entirely different: a responsibility to empower, rather than suppress.

MISSWHA QURESHI is

a dentist and emerging writer with a passion for storytelling.

Currently interning parttime at a dental college in Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh (India), she crafts emotionally resonant narratives often rooted in personal experiences.

She shares her reflections on Medium under the pseudonym of Margaret Blossom.

MISSWHA QURESHI

Women in Islam, 2025

87

GUARDIANSHIP

I Know What the Watched Bird Posts

Guardianship in the Digital Realm in Saudi Arabia The World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report 2024 ranked Saudi Arabia 126th out of 146 countries—the first time in many years that the Kingdom was not at the bottom of the list.1 This apparent progress sparked commentary from media outlets worldwide on the rights of Saudi women, including their digital freedom.

YANA SPENCER

is a journalist and women’s advocate. She runs Tamu, a non-governmental organisation that empowers vulnerable women and girls worldwide through baking therapy. She divides her time between empowering women and writing. Her literary work, like her charitable work, focuses on women’s experiences– often through the lens of food.

While I don’t claim to be an authority on the subject, my three years as an expat in Saudi Arabia have given me the opportunity to listen to women’s perspectives firsthand. This is my fly-on-the-wall account of how Saudi women navigate guardianship in the digital realm, inspired by Maya Angelou’s metaphor of a caged bird— one that, despite all hardships, still sings.

male guardian, usually her father or husband. Until a few years ago, they had to obtain their guardian’s permission to study abroad, travel, work, receive medical treatment, or marry. Now, under the 2022 Personal Status Law, guardianship ends when a woman reaches 18, yet she must still obtain a male guardian’s consent to marry, no matter her age.

Halima and Farah

Women’s rights activists have long called for an overhaul of the system. Some conciliatory measures were taken in 2009 and 2013, but it wasn’t until June 2016 that the movement gained traction. Women across Saudi Arabia joined an online campaign calling for the end of the guardianship system. Nearly 15,000 Saudi women signed a petition, and the hashtags #TogetherToEndMaleGuardianshipOverWomen and #SaudiWomenWantToEndGuardianship trended on Twitter.

Weddings and Guardianship Reforms Halima opens her phone to search for her engagement videos: “Here you go.” A stunning young woman in a pale peach-coloured dress extends her hand to her future husband. In front of the assembled parents and guests, he places hefty, expensive-looking pieces of jewellery around her neck, on her wrist and on one of her fingers. “This is our security for tomorrow, our version of ‘women’s rights,’” her friend Farah says jokingly.

We chat excitedly about wedding costs—3000 Saudi Riyals (800 USD) for make-up alone—and compare our countries’ traditions. Hearing our infectious laughter, more women join the conversation. “We first have to register our engagement online with the Ministry of Justice before we can go ahead with the wedding,” one explains. I Google the registration form, and the first line reads: “Fill in the information of the wife, husband, and the wife’s guardian.” I am puzzled. “I thought the male guardianship system had been changed?”

The women look at each another, and shrug off my question. In Saudi Arabia, every woman must still have a

88

Women in Islam, 2025

In response, major reforms were introduced in 2017 and 2019, reducing the extent of the guardianship system. Women no longer needed permission to receive certain state services, such as interacting with the police. They were granted access to the judicial system in marriage and divorce matters. Women aged 21 and over were also given the right to travel without a male guardian’s permission.

“Nowadays, when we travel, we don’t need our guardian’s permission,” Farah explains. “But when I first got engaged and was travelling with my family to a neighbouring country, we were stopped at the border.

I needed permission from my ‘new guardian’ to leave

the country, meaning my future husband. So, we were stuck—even with my dad present, who had been my guardian all my life. Alhamdulillah (praise be to God), we no longer need this. Khalas (it’s over)!”

The New Personal Status Law, which came into effect in June 2022, further modernised the legal framework governing family life, formally codifying the rules on male guardianship and easing some of the more restrictive practices surrounding marriage, divorce, child custody, alimony, gifts, wills, and inheritance.

Freedom of Online Expression How have these changes, driven by female-led social media campaigns, influenced the choices Saudi women make when expressing themselves online?

I ask Halima, who is getting married in a few days, “Would you post content from your wedding on social media?” Her public Instagram account already features reels of her engagement cake, table set-ups, decor, and invitation designs. She says that all her male relatives follow her account, and that she does not need to ask her guardian’s approval on what to post.

Her friend Farah uses her Instagram as a personal blog. Over 500 posts showcase her passion for travel through beautifully curated pictures of European landmarks, high-end shops and glamourous cafés.

Sometimes, you can catch a glimpse of her toddler’s back. “I can post whatever I feel like, as long as it does not go against our Islamic way of life. Nobody

“

I can post whatever I want, as long as it does not go against our Islamic way of life. But I would like daughter to be under strict guardianship until she is 30. is limiting my freedom.” Then she adds, “But I would like my eleven-month-old daughter to be under strict guardianship until she is at least thirty! Youngsters do not always act or post appropriately, and I want her to follow what is right.”

There were 36.84 million internet users in Saudi Arabia at the start of 2024.2 The population of Saudi Arabia stood at 37.21 million in January 2024.

42.6 percent of Saudi Arabia’s population is female, while 57.4 percent of the population is male.

Women in Islam, 2025

89

GUARDIANSHIP

Reem and Noor

Work, Travel, and Morals Noor is your typical 23-year-old—bubbly and bursting with enthusiasm for her job at a bookstore. In perfect English, she could easily talk for hours about her passion for books and her travels around Saudi Arabia and neighbouring countries. “Saudi youth use TikTok the most. This is my most popular reel—some fun footage from a bus journey I took,” Noor says, lifting her niqab (veil) to take a sip of her coffee.

“So, even though your account is private, you still only post videos of yourself wearing the niqab?” I ask. “Yes. My dad follows me there, so out of respect, and because of all the moral obligations, I do not feel comfortable removing it. Don’t get me wrong, no one is forcing me.

It’s entirely my decision. He doesn’t tell me what to post.

Make sure you mention that in your article.”

“

Noor’s latest video, Recap of 2024, shows snippets from her daily life: commuting to work, walking nervously across a skyscraper’s glassfloored skywalk while clutching her friend’s arm, choosing an ice cream, browsing for books, and even posing with her dad (who is smiling at the camera, seemingly without having been forced to by his social media queen of a daughter). “One day, Insha’Allah, I will make him dance with me on TikTok and send it to you.” We laugh and exchange social media handles.

One day, Insha'Allah, I will make my father dance with me on TikTok.

Reem is a similar age to Noor and an avid reader as well. We meet at the local library. Her sister is still in college but is not as studious as Reem used to be, so Reem sometimes helps her make notes.

“My sister’s generation is lucky,” Reem says. “They can leave campus without a chaperon. In my day, if classes

90

Women in Islam, 2025

finished early, I had to wait in the foyer for my dad to pick me up. It was too time-consuming for him to fill in a form every time to say I could leave on my own. Nowadays, my sister can study with her friends in a café after class. Although, they often end up messing around with their Instagram and TikTok videos more than they study! But, you know, my family still follows the traditional rules, so I am glad my sister sometimes asks my dad for guidance when she is not sure if some videos are a bit too fun to post.”

When I ask to see her sister’s posts, Reem rushes to pick up her books and apologises for not remembering her sister’s social media handle.

Internet users in Saudi Arabia, aged 16 to 64, who use each platform monthly:3 1. WhatsApp 83% (21.5m) 2. Instagram 73% (18.8m) 3. TikTok 72% (18.6m) 4. Snapchat 71% (18.2m) 5. Twitter/X 66% (17.1m) 6. Telegram 60% (15.6m) 7. Facebook 59% (15.2m) 8. FB Messenger 41% (10.5m) 9. Pinterest 29% (7.6m) 10. LinkedIn 28% (7.1m)

and friends have started following my tips.

They say my pictures make the food look appealing to them.” Scrolling through her 110 carefully curated Instagram posts, I notice the great attention to detail—the placement of the dish, the lighting, the backdrop of the sea or a bustling city. Yet, there is not a single picture of the food critic herself. When I offer to take one of her sampling the dessert, she shakes her head, “That is not my style. I prefer showcasing the food, not myself.”

A friend of a friend sends me Mai’s profile, eager to prove that Saudi women are not forced to hide their faces or identities: “Mai’s posts show her cooking or studying for her culinary diploma in France!” I take a look—Mai’s profile picture is creative, featuring her hijab Illustration by OSMAN OBEID and the outline of her head. In about ten out of a hundred reels, her hands appear as she Nofah and Mai prepares dishes.

Food Blogs and Culinary School Diplomas “What about this one?” my friend insists, pointing to Over the past decade, Saudi Arabia has witnessed a a photo of Mai receiving her diploma in France. “That remarkable surge in social media users: from 7.6 million is a proper picture!” I read the caption: Dream, because in 2014 to a whopping 35.3 million in 2024. Interestingly, dreams do come true. Mai is beaming in the picture, the social media advertising audience is predominantly and I can’t help but smile too. At least now, she has the male, making up 65 percent.4 freedom to study abroad, earn her diploma, and proudly share this moment with the world.

One social media trend that engages men and women equally, however, is food blogging. As soon as a new café, restaurant, or takeaway opens, Instagram is flooded with aesthetically pleasing pictures as young people post their YANA SPENCER reviews. At a local café, Nofah and I carefully angle our cameras, trying to capture the most flattering shot of our umm ali desserts. As we chat about our favourite Disclaimer: All interviews were recorded with the variations of this traditional Egyptian pudding, she participants’ permission and all names have been changed. enthusiastically shares her feed, which features at least five other recommended places to try it.

“My passion is finding the most exciting places to dine and exploring the latest food trends. My family

1

2

3

4

Kusum Kali Pal, Kim Piaget, Saadia Zahidi, and Silja Baller, Global Gender Gap Report 2024 (Geneva: World Economic Forum, 2024). https:// www.weforum.org/ publications/global-gender-gap-report-2024/.

Global Media Insight, “Saudi Arabia Social Media Statistics 2024,” Global Media Insight, accessed January 30, 2025, https://www. globalmediainsight. com/blog/saudi-arabia-social-media-statistics/.

Global Media Insight, “Saudi Arabia Social Media Statistics 2024,” Global Media Insight, accessed January 30, 2025, https://www. globalmediainsight. com/blog/saudi-arabia-social-media-statistics/.

Global Media Insight, “Saudi Arabia Social Media Statistics 2024,” Global Media Insight, accessed January 30, 2025, https://www. globalmediainsight. com/blog/saudi-arabia-social-media-statistics/.

Women in Islam, 2025

91

GUARDIANSHIP

A Threat to Women’s Sexual and Reproductive Health Guardianship in Somaliland and Somalia

In Somaliland and Somalia, women must obtain approval from a male guardian before receiving essential healthcare, a restriction that can lead to life-threatening delays. By denying women the right to exercise autonomy over their bodies, the healthcare system prioritises male authority over women’s well-being.

YOUSEF TIMACADE

is a lawyer and legal analyst with over a decade of experience in human rights, policy, and social justice. He holds master’s degrees in law and executive management and currently serves as the Country Coordinator for Somalia and Somaliland at SIHA Network.

Male guardianship grants men authority over nearly every aspect of a woman’s life—from education and career choices to marriage and healthcare. While the concept is not explicitly codified in Somalia’s statutory legal system or constitution, it is embedded in cultural traditions and patriarchal interpretations of religious texts. Over time, statutory courts have adopted and upheld these norms.

Some Islamic scholars argue that male guardianship is outdated, as the historical justifications of physical strength and financial dependency no longer apply.1 In addition, Islam itself underscores mutual respect, consultation, and autonomy for both genders.2 Yet, despite these evolving perspectives, no significant legal cases have challenged the guardianship system.

Judicial decisions continue to align with traditional

“

The doctor said that family planning was intended to space out births for the benefit of breastfeeding, not to meet a woman's personal needs.

92

Women in Islam, 2025

beliefs, severely restricting women’s access to essential healthcare, particularly reproductive services.

Unaccompanied women face even greater obstacles, as healthcare providers often perceive them as lacking social support or legitimacy. This bias leads to delays in care or outright denial of services, putting their lives at risk. The widespread assumption that male guardians must oversee medical decisions and financial matters further reinforces gender inequality, leaving women with little autonomy over their own healthcare.

Obstacles to Medical Care Medical facility protocols in Somaliland dictate that surgical interventions for women require formal authorisation from a male guardian—even in lifethreatening situations.

For pregnant women, these restrictions can be particularly dire. According to the World Health Organization, Somalia had the sixth highest maternal mortality ratio in 2023, with one in 1,000 women aged 15-49 dying due to pregnancy- or birth-related complications.3 “Pregnant women without male guardians often face discrimination from healthcare providers,” explains

Hamda Djama, a midwife in Hargeisa. She refers to both single pregnant women and those whose husbands are absent when they seek medical care. “This leads to delays in diagnoses and treatments that can escalate into life-threatening situations for mother and child.

Denying women access to the services they deserve, is a violation of their reproductive rights.”

One tragic case is that of Ayan Abdisamad, a 35-year-old mother of six. While her first five deliveries were without complications, the birth of her sixth child required an emergency C-section. “I was informed by the doctor that I needed surgery, but despite his medical understanding of my critical condition, he couldn’t proceed without my husband’s consent,” Ayan recalls. “I suffered in the emergency room for hours while my husband hesitated.

He was sceptical and insisted on waiting. By the time he finally consented, I was at death’s door.”

Although the law does not mandate a guardian’s consent, doctors can be held liable when a woman is injured or dies during surgery if a male guardian did not formally approve the procedure. A woman’s consent over her own body is insufficient to protect doctors from potential financial repercussions. Unless the government enacts a formal decree shielding them from liability, medical practitioners will likely continue to demand male guardian authorisation.

Barriers to Family Planning

“

By the time he [my husband] finally consented, I was at death's door.

In Somaliland and Somalia, health centres cannot provide contraceptives without a husband’s consent. Male doctors’ biases further limit women’s access to family planning solutions.

This prevents women from making independent choices about their bodies and birth control. Amiro, a young woman from Mogadishu, shares her struggle in navigating these barriers:

“I got married young and didn’t want to have children right away. I asked my husband if we could seek family planning advice and, to my relief, he agreed. But the doctor dismissed my request. He asked if I was in pain or experiencing complications. I told him I was healthy; I simply wanted to delay having children. He then advised me to have my first child before considering contraceptives, emphasising that family planning was intended to space out births for the benefit of breastfeeding, not to meet a woman’s personal needs.”

This encounter undermined Amiro’s autonomy and shifted her husband’s perspective: “After hearing the doctor, my husband changed his mind. He started insisting I should have a child. He assumed my reluctance

1

2

Musawah, A Feminist Reader’s Guide to Muslim Family Laws, 2022, https:// www.musawah.org/ wp-content/up loads/2022/01/AFeminist-ReadersGuide-MIC-Digital.pdf.

Adbullah Yusuf Ali, The Holy Quran Translation (2022), https://quranyusufali.com/4/.

Women in Islam, 2025

93

GUARDIANSHIP

meant I didn’t love him or that I feared poverty. He accused me of lacking trust in Allah.”

“

The Dangers of Unsafe Abortion

Healthcare providers often perceive unaccompanied women as lacking legitimacy, leading to delays in care or denial of services.

Articles 418 and 419 of the Somali Penal Code impose severe penalties on anyone who intentionally causes a woman’s abortion. As a result, many women resort to unsafe abortion procedures, often disguising them as miscarriages. These abortions are carried out using traditional methods—such as sheep fat and herbal remedies—by xaqitaan (sweepers), who are said to ‘sweep’ the foetus out. With no skilled healthcare professionals present, the risks of complications and maternal mortality are significantly increased.4

For survivors of sexual violence, the lack of safe abortion services adds to the trauma of rape, subjecting them to further social stigma, isolation, unwanted pregnancies, and even forced marriages.

The Role of Religion in Reproductive Rights Somali cultural and religious values often associate large families with prestige and economic security.

Religious leaders frequently cite Surah Al-Isra 31 on matters related to family planning: “Do not kill

94

Women in Islam, 2025

your children for fear of poverty. We provide for them and for you. Surely killing them is a heinous sin.” Although this verse does not explicitly address sterilisation or modern contraception, it is used to discourage limiting family size due to economic concerns, urging trust in Allah’s provision.

While Islamic teachings permit temporary birth control methods to ensure family well-being, the selective use of religious texts often leads to a narrow view of family planning.

Religion is thus weaponised to control women’s bodies, aligning more with cultural norms than with Islamic principles.

The restrictions that ensue prevent women from exercising their autonomy within the permissible bounds of Islamic jurisprudence. Cases like Ayan’s and Amiro’s highlight the profound consequences on women’s health and well-being. They expose how patriarchal norms and legal barriers place women’s lives at risk and perpetuate systemic gender disparities.

YOUSEF TIMACADE

3

4

Artwork by HUSSEIN SALIM

World Health Organisation – Eastern Mediterranean Region, “International Women’s Day: WHO and Ministry of Health Strive to Achieve Gender Equity in Somalia by Employing Technological Innovations,” WHO EMRO Website, March 8, 2023. https://www.emro. who.int/somalia/ news/international-wom ens-day-who-andministry-of-healthstrive-to-achievegender-equity-insomalia-by-employing-technologicalinnovations.html.

FEMNET, Policy Brief – Strong legislation to protect women and girls’ rights is a must, November 2021. https://femnet.org/ wp-content/uploads/2022/09/SOMALIA-final-min. pdf.

Women in Islam, 2025

95

GUARDIANSHIP

My Grandmother, the Guardian Rewriting the Role of Women in Islamic Families

EPTISUM LASKAR is

a postgraduate student in English Literature at Diamond Harbour Women’s University and an independent researcher. Her research interests include South Asian literature, ecological posthumanism, food studies, and women’s studies.

She has presented at international conferences and has forthcoming publications on literary and cultural studies.

96

Growing up in a semi-urban town in West Bengal, India, I was always told that men were the guardians, the protectors, the providers and the decision makers.

Yet, in my own home, it was my grandmother who held everything together. She was the keeper of stories, the quiet strategist, the one who ensured that our house was more than just walls—it was a sanctuary. If guardianship meant offering guidance, wisdom, and protection, then she was our wali (guardian) in every sense of the word.

My grandmother never raised her voice; she didn’t need to. Her authority was woven into the very fabric of our family’s existence. She managed the finances with precision, advising my grandfather on investments when others assumed she had no understanding of money.

She ensured that her daughters received an education, challenging the belief that women were only meant to learn how to run a household. She negotiated family disputes with diplomacy, her words carrying more weight than the pronouncements of the men around her.

And yet, in the eyes of the world, she was simply a woman—someone under wilayah (guardianship), not someone who exercised it.

Islamic traditions often frame wilayah as a male duty, a form of protection offered by fathers, brothers, and husbands to the women in their lives. But what happens when women assume that role, not out of defiance, but because life demands it? With my grandfather often away for work, my grandmother didn’t wait for permission to

Women in Islam, 2025

“

When I hear debates about guardianship, I think of my grandmother.

I think of the millions of women who have shaped families, communities, and histories without recognition. be a guardian. She became one through action, sacrifice, and an unwavering sense of responsibility.

She was the first to wake up and the last to sleep, ensuring that everyone was fed, clothed, and cared for.

She taught me my first prayers, whispering Bismillah (in the name of God) into my ear before I ate, studied, or stepped out into the world. When my mother struggled with decisions, it was my grandmother who guided her, shaping the course of our lives with the wisdom of experience.

If guardianship means providing safety, counsel, and support, then why should it be restricted to men? History is filled with stories of women who have embodied wilayah without holding the official title. Khadijah bint Khuwaylid, the Prophet Muhammad’s first wife,

Illustration by GHAZAL QADRI

was not only his emotional and spiritual support but also his financial guardian. Aisha bint Abu Bakr, a scholar and leader, was a custodian of knowledge, who shaped Islamic thought for generations. Yet, in modern discourse, guardianship is still framed as a privilege and a responsibility reserved for men.

My grandmother’s life proved that this narrative is incomplete. She did not seek power, yet she held it. She did not claim authority, yet it rested on her shoulders.

She did not call herself a guardian, yet she protected, nurtured, and led.

have shaped families, communities, and histories without recognition.

The question is not whether women can be guardians—they always have been. The question is when we will acknowledge that guardianship is not about gender and control, but about care, responsibility, and strength.

It is time we recognise the role of women in Islamic families, not as dependents, but as guardians in their own right.

Today, when I hear debates about wilayah and who should have the right to be a guardian, I think of my grandmother. I think of the millions of women who

EPTISUM LASKAR

“

My grandmother didn't wait for permission to be a guardian.

She became one through action, sacrifice, and an unwavering sense of responsibility.

Women in Islam, 2025

97

I commend Issue 6 of the Women in Islam Journal for addressing such crucial topics.

Each article prompted reflection on the systemic challenges women face globally under patriarchy. The article Jailed for Crimes That Do Not Exist particularly stood out to me, as it highlighted the Sudanese transitional government’s lack of attention to women’s rights despite their active role in the revolution. Other compelling pieces explored the experiences of migrant women from Somaliland, Muslim women politicians in Ethiopia, and the hijab ban in Europe. Thank you to the SIHA Network for documenting these struggles and victories. Your journal has inspired our team at Article 35 to develop our own digital magazine, Feminist Ethiopia. Kiya Ali, Founder and Director of Article 35

The 6th issue of Women in Islam powerfully highlights the persistent barriers to dignity, rights, and autonomy faced by Muslim women worldwide. From the piece on Muslim women in sports to the article on period checks, the issue underscores how religious norms around modest dress code often limit women’s freedoms. The story of Sit Al-Nofor, unjustly killed for peacefully protesting, is especially moving, as is the broader focus on forced migration. This issue stands as a testament to the resilience of Muslim women, particularly in Somaliland, Sudan, and Ethiopia, as they continue the struggle for a more just future for generations to come.

Naddunga Lenah, Program Coordinator at FIDA-UGANDA

Helmi Ben Meriem’s article in Issue 6 of Women in Islam powerfully examines Somali womanhood through the lens of Nuruddin Farah’s novels, challenging stereotypical portrayals of Somali women as monolithic and submissive. The piece masterfully illustrates how harmful patriarchal norms are often cloaked in religious justification. By bringing such nuanced depictions to light, the journal plays an important role in deconstructing oppressive gender ideologies and contributes to a broader feminist discourse that is both locally rooted and globally relevant. Naima M Hassan, Somali Journalist and Women Peace and Security Expert

The Women in Islam journal feels like a revival of what the voice fighting for women should be. What particularly caught my attention were the creative aspects in artistic depiction and writing, combined with solid research that deserves celebration. As someone interested in culture and the arts, I found the story of visual artist Munira Yusuf particularly moving. This young woman from Somaliland, who obtained Swedish citizenship, has become a voice for brown women in the country through her captivating brushwork and wonderful paintings.

Nasraldin Abdelkader Hassan, Sudanese Journalist and Writer in Nairobi

98

Women in Islam, 2025

SIHA Journal Issue 06/2023

I read the sixth issue of the Women in Islam journal with great interest. The section Equality Begins at Home particularly caught my attention, as it shows how real change starts with the small details of daily life, such as sharing household tasks and respecting girls’ opinions. However, what moved me most was the inspiring story of Amoun Adan Ismail and her experience of establishing a sports centre for girls in Hargeisa. Sport is not just a way to maintain good health, but also a space for self-expression, building confidence, and breaking down societal barriers. Thank you for opening this space for us and speaking to us in a language that connects with our reality. I look forward to reading more inspiring stories that truly resonate. Rayyan Hassan, Sudanese University Student

SIHA PUBLICATIONS Richness in writing is what distinguishes the sixth issue of Women in Islam. A dazzling diversity of genres opens windows into the lives of others. The issue discusses the political economy of land and delves into the memory of Sudanese women’s struggle for justice.

Ahmed Al-Sadiq, Sudanese Academic and Writer in Nairobi

This issue exposes the misuse of religion as a tool for domination rather than a platform for justice. It shows how women confronted this manipulation by returning to core Islamic values: peace, justice, and the rule of law. Despite the long road ahead, the deep faith expressed by the writers and thinkers in this issue opens a horizon of hope. For a civilised society, as Sit-al-Nofor said, cannot be so if it excludes half of its members. Hiyam Hashim, Sudanese Civil Society Activist

Going through Issue six, I was pleasantly surprised by the design and the selection of distinctive visual artworks to accompany the texts. These added a wonderful aesthetic dimension to the important dialogues captured in the journal. Thanks to the journal’s contributors for bringing it to us with such beauty. Essam Abdelhafeez, Visual Artist

The sixth issue of Women in Islam delves into a diverse range of topics through its well-curated sections. Editor-in-Chief Hala AlKarib rightly credits the journal’s continued publication and sustainability to the steadfast commitment of both women and men activists from the Horn of Africa and beyond. Hussein Saad, Journalist

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS, STORIES AND ANALYSES! Do you wish to highlight the challenges, experiences and achievements of women living in and alongside Muslim communities? Do you want to contribute to the growing voices against prejudice and gender inequality within Muslim societies?

Send your article or essay to: journal@sihanet.org Engage with us on social media: X: @SIHA_Journal Facebook: Women in Islam Journal Instagram: @Women_in_Islam_Journal

Sha re your thoughts !!!

THE FEMINIST PEACE LAB TRAINING MANUAL The Feminist Peace Lab Training Manual offers tools and guidance to mentor emerging activists in the Greater Horn of Africa, making it a valuable resource for Women, Peace, and Security practitioners. The manual’s collective approach incorporates the participants’ experiences and insights, fostering cross-regional networks and encouraging shared learning.

“RAPE TAKES PLACE GRADUALLY, NOT SUDDENLY” This report examines sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) in Wau, South Sudan. Using both qualitative and quantitative methods, it critically analyses the gradual emergence of rape and other forms of SGBV in ongoing conflicts, the barriers to justice, and the societal implications.

Data sources include firsthand accounts from SGBV survivors, local community surveys, and existing legal and policy frameworks. The report concludes that a combination of legal, social, and cultural strategies is necessary to support survivors and prevent future violence.

GENDER, CONFLICT, AND POWER ANALYSIS This analysis identifies key conflict dynamics, along with women’s concerns and priorities in Ethiopia, Somalia, South Sudan, and Sudan. It also examines the relevance of existing structures for conflict resolution and women’s political participation. The analysis is based on a thorough literature review, as well as qualitative key informant interviews and focus group discussions with stakeholders.

LOST GAINS: SOMALIA’S REGRESSION FROM WOMEN’S EMPOWERMENT TO SYSTEMIC OPPRESSION This brief provides feminist resistance collectives across Africa with the tools to advance gender justice while fostering inclusivity. It also strengthens their resilience against escalating attacks from anti-rights movements.

The paper traces the evolution of the feminist movement in Somalia, highlighting its early successes as well as the increasing backlash, including the repeal of critical protective policies and the introduction of regressive laws in recent years.

For more publications, resources, and the latest updates from our work, visit

www.sihanet.org

Women in Islam, 2025

99

Issue No. 7, 2025

A journal published by:

SIHA, the Strategic Initiative for Women in the Horn of Africa Network, was born out of the social justice movement. Since 1995, it has grown to a membership of over 100 indigenous African women’s rights organisations. SIHA works in a variety of cultural, political, and geographical environments in Uganda, Ethiopia, Djibouti, Eritrea, Somalia, Somaliland, Sudan, and South Sudan.

SIHA firmly believes in the collective power of African women.

The network was built on the shoulders of women’s rights activists from the Horn of Africa, and has been sustained by their

relentless commitment to advance gender equality and their cause. As an inclusive and diverse feminist women’s rights network, we draw strength from the multiplicity of women’s experiences and voices.

SIHA’s vision is that all women and girls in the Horn of Africa have the right to live in a peaceful, just environment, and to exercise their equal rights as human beings.

To make this vision a reality, SIHA aims to unlock the massive potential of feminist and women’s rights movements in the region by strengthening and supporting collective action for social and political change.

SIHA acknowledges that almost all challenges that women face are based on socially and politically constructed norms that actively subordinate women. Thus, our work foregrounds fundamental political transformation, with a focus on challenging political repression, fundamentalism, and restrictive traditions.

SIHA is committed to generating and disseminating knowledge informed by women’s lived realities and day-to-day struggles. Women in Islam is one of SIHA’s many publications.