Three Women Who Won The War

Lubna asked to postpone the interview, her little boy is sick today; “He needs me by his side”, she said. We stopped recording; Lubna apologised, several times. Later in the afternoon, she zipped up her small bag and left her apartment in Lyon, where she is going to return tomorrow to take care of her child, but today she has to go to the International Court of Justice in the Netherlands. 

A few thousand kilometres away, Haneen is trying her luck again – the Internet connection in northern Syria is not good enough for an interview. We cancelled the call with her as well; a woman calls her for help and she has to be there for her! 

Reem, Razan Zaitouneh’s sister, lives at the other end of the world, in Canada. The huge time difference made me call her at night. She talked a lot about Razan; our call did not get interrupted or cut. Reem kept sharing her dreams about her older sister until the very end of the interview. “Goodnight… Let me know if you need anything!”, she said before hanging up.

This is a story about three young Syrian women – Lubna, Haneen, and Reem. They went through the years of war in different ways, shaping narratives about the Revolution and the conflict from different perspectives. In this story women are not victims, widows, or grievers as described in mainstream narratives of wars; they are brave leaders and pioneers. 

While preparing for this story, we met with Lubna and Haneen several times, we recorded our conversations, as well as tons of long voice messages via WhatsApp; we also talked with Reem, Razan’s sister, and many of her close friends  and colleagues. During this process, I talked to many people in different countries, I watched documentaries and investigative shows, and read many studies and reports. I used all of these to write a story about women – war winners.

This project was implemented under a fellowship of  Jim Hoge legacy , International Center for Journalists in Washington, ICFJ.

In the 1970s, Syrian high school students started wearing military uniforms to school. They also had military education as a subject, where they learned how to use Czech rifles and grenades, practised cleaning weapons, and were exposed to other basic military rules. This subject was taught by “Futuwwa” – Cadet –  trainers.

Lubna Kanawati says as she looks away, “I remember the teacher of military education in middle school. We used to call her Miss Jamila. She used to call us ‘animals’ and shout at us. Cruelty and military life are an essential part of the upbringing of boys and girls of that generation. The walls of our schools were grey; the iron doors were black, they looked like prison cell doors.” Lubna’s “naughty” personality was far from what was expected of students at the time in terms of good behaviour. Early on, Lubna realised that she was living in a world that did not welcome her energy, ideas, and dreams; she understood that she would not find the freedom she needed.

Female students at a school in Damascus during military training. This image was published by National Geographic in 1974 (National Geographic /Fair Use, all rights reserved.)

Lubna continues, “My father played a huge role in shaping my personality; he was a leftist oppositionist who often shared with us his thoughts and political ideas at home.” At an early age, due to challenging financial circumstances, Lubna began working with her father in his workshop in the city of Harasta, east of the Syrian capital Damascus. It was not easy for her to combine her university studies with the long hours spent printing clothes and drawing designs. She says, “I lived in two worlds: the world of simple press workers, their slang, their interests and their difficult lives, and the world of my university studies and the Spanish Cultural Centre, where I used to meet the so-called cultural elite.” This division and the belonging to two diverse communities helped Lubna understand the Revolution and the motives that pushed people to protest. It also allowed her to form strong ties with the revolutionary youth at a later stage.

With the coming to power of Hafez al-Assad, the 1973 constitution put an end to the political life in the country, and forced all political parties to fall under the umbrella of the National Progressive Front, a political body led by the so-called “leading party”, the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party, and consisting of seven political parties. The political entities that refused to join this body were forced to work secretly – a dangerous option for which they paid a huge price in the years that followed.

Women participated in the field work of various Syrian parties, but their presence was noticeably less significant – even absent – in leadership positions. This was also true for leftist parties that claimed to support women’s rights in their statutes.

According to Women’s Political Participation, a legal study conducted by researchers Sabah Hallaq, Anwar Majni, and Khaled Adwan, this constitution preserved the right of women to vote and run for Parliament elections, but its formulation did not allow them to run for presidency. The research shows that the constitution did not explicitly stipulate the need for the president of the republic to be male, but it used sexist language in the text that lists the conditions for candidacy: “Whoever is nominated for the presidency of the Republic is required to be a Syrian Arab (formulated using the masculine form only, – TN) enjoying his civil and political rights at the age of forty.” In fact, the study adds that this factor is of no great importance because the constitution was designed in a way that allowed only one person to become president – Hafez al-Assad. Let alone the changes that were made at a later stage to allow his son, the current President, Bashar al-Assad to hold office at the age of 34 instead of 40. Therefore, the position was designed to fit one specific person only. 

Reem Zaitouneh, Razan’s younger sister, lives with her family in Canada. Describing Razan, she says, “Sometimes, she used to read three books a week and wanted to become a journalist. In her early twenties, while studying, she actually started working as a journalist, and published articles on local websites.” Razan’s friends remember her growing up ambitious and determined. Some of her articles were banned, others were withdrawn after publication. Censorship started affecting her work and people warned her to be more careful. This motivated her to closely observe the violations of rights and freedoms in Syria.

After graduation, Razan joined the law office of Haitham al-Maleh as a trainee. Lawyer al-Maleh was working at the time on cases of political prisoners. Razan collaborated with him on these cases, as well as on cases of Syrian detainees in Israeli prisons. She had a comprehensive and broad perception of justice. Describing Razan’s work at the time, Reem says,

Bashar al-Assad took power in Syria in 2000, after a constitutional amendment to modify the age of the president of the Republic, which was unanimously approved by the members of the Parliament. At the time, talks about “novelty and modernisation” were spreading fast in the country while al-Assad, the son, started forming a new guard consisting of his young friends and acquaintances. This period was associated with a relative openness that was called by politicians at the time the Damascus Spring. According to The Syrian Human Rights Committee, the phenomenon of intellectual forums was a real test of the seriousness of Bashar al-Assad in adopting modern democratic statements. At the same time, the country witnessed the emergence of some newspapers, magazines, and websites that tried to formulate a daring democratic narrative compared to the one mainstreamed by conservative Syrian media. Razan, at the time in her twenties, was attending political meetings and forums and writing in some periodicals and websites about civil law, women’s rights, and freedoms.

Osama Nassar stood in front of the building of the State Security Court in Damascus. He was hoping to see the detainee Abdul Rahman Al-Shaghouri during his trial that day. Osama wanted to hear from him about his detained friends. Visits were prohibited; Osama and the families of detainees did not know anything about the fates of their loved ones. Suddenly, Osama spotted Abboud’s face in the narrow window of the dark military car. Abboud put his thumb up to tell Osama that the guys were safe and sound.

Razan was standing by Osama as Abboud’s lawyer. Obviously, she wanted to follow up on this case. During our conversation, Osama Nassar recalls, “That was our first meeting. I was very touched and emotional after I was told that my friends were ok. Later, we became friends and worked on several projects and activities for more than ten years, until the day she was kidnapped in Douma.” 

Later, Razan met Wa’el Hamada. They built a strong friendship, fell in love, and got married. They made a home together and shared ideas and dreams about the Syria they wanted to live in. Reem remembers that Razan spent most of her time working with Wa’el on human rights causes. “That was her whole life”, she says.

Haneen lived in the village of Ma’aret Hurmah. She explains, “Our village life was simple. Since I was a child, I was curious about everything. I used to follow the news and read everything that I could get my hands on. I realised at an early age that I was interested in learning and helping others.” 

Just like Lubna and Razan, Haneen was shocked by the school system. Schools in Idlib and small marginalised villages were just like schools in Damascus and its suburbs; children were exposed to the same authoritarianism and military education, in addition to the double social pressure that girls and women in rural areas face. Haneen explains, “I was reprimanded by my teacher because I shared uncommon ideas; everyone treated them as strange.” At home, she felt the support of her father and the affection of her mother; she was a hardworking student. Haneen says, “My older sister was the first young woman in the village to go to university in Aleppo. She had to travel alone, and people in the village did not like it, but my father supported her.” Going to university was easier for Haneen because she studied in Aleppo with her brother.

At the beginning of her studies, Haneen lived in a university residency for female students, where she met people of different backgrounds, religions, ethnicities, and opinions. These encounters pushed her to ask big questions. That marked the beginning of her search for answers and the start of her journey to  understand the environment she was in and the relationships in the big city. It was very  different from her small traditional village, where people share  the same religious background, customs, and traditions.

Osama Nassar, a friend of Razan Zaitouneh, tells us about the sit-in organised at the Ministry of Interior to demand the release of political prisoners in Syria. Dozens of families and relatives of political prisoners gathered in Marjeh Square near the Ministry of Interior in central Damascus on 16 March, the day after the first demonstration that marked the beginning of the Syrian Revolution. Osama Nassar was arrested during the sit-in along with a number of other participants, including the opposition activist Suheir Atassi, journalist Kamal Sheikho, human rights activist Mazen Darwish, lawyer Anwar al-Bunni, and Muhannad al-Hassani.

Osama says, “I arrived late to the sit-in and found the signs torn on the ground. They started arresting people. They arrested me along with other protesters.” Razan managed to escape arrest, then returned in the evening to the court, along with six other lawyers, to defend the detained protesters.

Image of the sit-in in front of the Ministry of Interior to demand the release of political prisoners in Syria – March 2011 – Source DW

Since the beginning of the Revolution, Razan emerged as a young human rights activist and a strong defender of protesters’ demands. She was one of the few activists who appeared on TV, showing her face and stating her name, to tell the world about what was happening in the streets. Razan’s sister, Reem, recalls those times, “We, family members and friends, asked her to use a fake name or  another identity, and hide her face during interviews, but Razan insisted that it was part of her job and that she was always going to show her real identity,” and she adds, “I do not know the number of times Razan was summoned for interrogation before she started hiding from the Syrian intelligence services. She did not tell us all the details, because she wanted to protect us from her work and the danger it entailed.”

The demonstrations continued peacefully in some areas of Syria. Intelligence agents opened fire on the demonstrators, and thousands were arrested. Horrible torture videos and shocking practices of security and intelligence officers leaked on social media. Weapons infiltrated the opposition areas unevenly. Violence escalated, and demonstrators began to go out in large celebrations under the guard of gunmen in Daraa, Homs, Damascus countryside, and other parts of the country.

Women’s participation in the demonstrations was weak. The extremely dangerous security situation played a big role in that, in addition to the activists’ fear of how the Syrian security men were dealing with women. UN, as well as international and human rights organisations, such as Human Rights Watch, reports showed that rape had become a weapon in the war in Syria. Since the beginning of the uprising in Syria in March 2011, sexual assaults have been a strategy of war and destruction of the enemy as it is a widespread tool to insult human dignity.  A report issued by the Syrian Network for Human Rights at the end of 2023, stated that at least 11,203 women have been detained or forcibly disappeared since the beginning of the war in Syria. It also added that 11,541 incidents of sexual violence targeted women in Syria, the majority of which were committed by Syrian Regime forces.

Despite this, the Syrian Revolution witnessed the emergence of some female leaders, such as Razan Zeitouneh, Fadwa Suleiman, Khawla Dunia, Mais Skaff, Samar Yazbek, Suheir Atassi, and others.

Lubna decided to go into hiding after the raid of her father’s print shop. She travelled to Egypt, where she stayed to avoid arrest. However, Lubna could only stay away from the Revolution for a few weeks. In November 2012, she returned to Syria illegally crossing the Syrian-Lebanese border and went to Douma in the eastern suburbs of Damascus, the city adjacent to the town of Harasta, where she had been living throughout the previous years. At the time, the Syrian Regime had completely lost control of Douma; it was taken over by armed opposition groups. Lubna thought that she was going to be able to work freely in areas controlled by the opposition.

Women noticed that they were not able to work side-by-side with men, so they started gathering in women’s committees, as feminist writer Lama Kannout noted in her study In The Core Or On The Margin: Syrian Women’s Political Participation, “As the peaceful protests developed and spread, both women and men took part in the coordination committees. <…> Moreover, many coordination committees were founded by women revolutionaries, <…> such as The Coordination Committee of Salamiya Women, Darayya Women Assembly, The Women Revolutionaries of Free Tal, A Grain of Wheat (also in Tal, Damascus Countryside), The Coordination Committee of Free Douma’s Women.”

Lubna found herself a simple apartment and tried to complete its construction with the help of her friends so that she could stay in it. She wanted to do her work as well as possible and slowly build her social circles in a city she was not familiar with, just like Razan, Wa’el, Osama and other oppositionists who fled Damascus to Douma.

Pictures of Lubna in her house in Douma – 2013

Lubna’s house became a gathering place; she brought a printer from her father’s printing shop in Harasta and used it to serve the local community. She started printing papers, sometimes to generate income, and sometimes free of charge. She also volunteered her time for medical efforts helping the wounded and moving between different medical points. She says, “I had no experience, I learned on the spot because there was a great need for help.” Lubna discovered then that she had been living in a “bubble”, as she calls it, and had not noticed the reality of women in the society. While working in Douma under the suffocating siege and volunteering for emergency relief efforts, Lubna created strong ties with women in the area. “They used to call me ‘doctor’. They would say, ‘Come change my bandage’, ‘Come give me the injection’,” and she adds, “I got to see how people were living; I saw their houses, how they managed hunger, extreme poverty, and the circumstances imposed by the war. I also saw the tremendous layers of oppression of women and the violence committed by their husbands against them.”

Razan arrived in Ghouta and accompanied Osama Nassar on one of his visits to Lubna Kanawati’s house. They were in the process of founding the magazine Rising for Freedom,  and wanted to collaborate with Lubna in getting the printing inks. Afterwards, Lubna got in touch with Razan several times and met Samira al-Khalil, Wa’el Hamada, and Razan’s friends who lived in the same building. Later, the four activists were kidnapped by members of Jaysh al-Islam.

In the north, Haneen was overcoming obstacles imposed by customs and traditions in her village. Idlib and surrounding areas were no longer under the control of the Syrian Regime, the general situation was deteriorating. Haneen’s studies were interrupted and she decided to establish a small community development centre in her village, at her parents’ house. She volunteered her time determined to improve the conditions of women in the village, “I was the first woman to mobilise a team to support the women of my village. I worked passionately and provided people in my area with psychological support services. We managed to change people’s perception of mental health and well-being and their importance, especially for women,” says Haneen.

Community work, especially with women, is a major challenge in northern Syria, where Haneen lives. Women activists were harassed and extremist groups burned women’s centres and threatened and harmed Syrian women activists who worked in the region. Some Of them were forced to flee the country, while others stopped their activities. Some centres in the area remain open, however they are always threatened to be shut down and their managers and activists participating in their activities face constant threats of arrest.

When Haneen decided to start filming and do journalistic work, she faced lots of criticism, “People in my area were unhappy about my field work, they used to criticise me and bother me. Once a young man attacked me while I was covering an event. He threatened to break my camera on my head. He said that just because I was a woman doing work that was supposedly reserved for men.”

Haneen received many threats and cruel videos asking her to stop working as a journalist. “My brother has always supported my work. He encouraged me, helped me and supported me emotionally. Although I come from a conservative family, he insisted that I continue my work”, she says.

After becoming an independent journalist, Haneen covered the conflict in her area on a daily basis for a number of media outlets. She centred her stories around civilians, both men and women, and created a space for women to express themselves and document their experiences. She was doing all of that in one of the most dangerous places for journalists in the whole world.

Razan requested access to different prisons run by the Syrian armed opposition factions in Rif Dimashq. According to an investigation conducted by the DW, Razan was trying to investigate allegations of detainees being tortured in these prisons. This raised a wave of rage and made many question Razan’s “loyalty” to the Syrian Revolution.

Razan and her friends felt unwelcome; the documentation of violations committed by the Syrian Regime was allowed and celebrated, but it was not the case for violations committed by armed opposition factions; that was forbidden.

In 2013, Rif Dimashq Governorate, especially the city of Douma, witnessed conflicts between ISIS, al-Nusra, and Jaysh al-Islam; the latter ultimately took control of the area. Osama told us that an armed man had gotten angry while talking to Razan at the market and had fired his gun. Razan and her friends received multiple threats at the time. Osama, who lived in the same building as they – on the second floor – was also threatened.

Bassam al-Ahmad, describing what happened on 9 December 2013, says, “That night Razan and I were chatting on Skype about work and the overall situation in Syria. Just random stuff. Suddenly, she stopped replying. I thought that there was a power cut or that she got busy. I finished my work and went to sleep. In the morning, my phone was exploding with messages and notifications. I knew something wrong had happened!”

Osama Nassar said that he was in his room when he lost Internet connection. He recalls that moment, “We had regular power cuts. When they happened, Razan would turn on the generator and the Internet connection would be back in a few minutes. That night she did not do so. I waited a little then went to sleep. I thought she was asleep or busy.” The day after, Osama learned that an armed group of people had come at night and caused great chaos in the building. They had kidnapped Razan, her husband Wa’el Hamada, her colleague Nazem Hamadi, and Syrian activist Samira al-Khalil, or the Douma Four, as they were later called.

Osama says that friends and families of the Douma Four pushed hard to investigate their kidnapping. Several entities tried to help, and it has been concluded beyond doubt that Jaysh al-Islam – the faction that controlled the area – was responsible for the kidnapping of Razan, Samira, Wa’el, and Nazem. Osama says, “We have no proof that Razan and our three friends are still alive, but we do not have any proof that they were killed either.”

At the beginning of 2018, the Syrian Regime forces, with the support of Russian air force, carried out a major attack that continued intermittently for several months. It led to the end of Jaysh al-Islam’s and Failaq ar-Rahman’s control of the area in April. The United Nations estimated that 151,000 people were displaced from the area, more than half of them children and women; 79,000 of them arrived in northern Syria, the last stronghold of the opposition forces in Syria.

Idlib’s vast camps!

Haneen married Amjad al-Maleh, a civilian activist from Rif Dimashq. Amjad was displaced in 2017 from a small town on the outskirts of Damascus and arrived in northern Syria like thousands of other displaced people. He continued his activism, which led to his arrest by Hay’et Tahrir al-Sham, previously known as Jabhat al-Nusra, an Islamist body that controls large areas in Idlib and the suburbs of Aleppo.

During the Syrian Regime’s attack on Douma at the beginning of 2018, Turkey opened a war front in northern Syria as well, calling this operation The Olive Branch. By March, Turkish forces and the Syrian opposition and armed factions took control of the city of Afrin. Syrian opposition factions and Turkish forces are being accused of carrying out a large-scale demographic change through the displacement of the local population. Opposition factions are not allowing civilian Kurds to return to their villages and towns amid continuing violations committed against people in the region on the basis of ethnicity.

Haneen hopes that the Kurds of Afrin will be able to return to their homes and that she will also return to her village. She is currently separated from her siblings and parents by many military checkpoints. Sometimes she gets frustrated; there is no life or future where she lives now. However, her work with women and her camera keep her hope alive every step of the way.

Reem founded a non-profit organisation in the name of her sister Razan Zeitouneh and registered it in Canada. Razan’s family wants to continue the work of their daughter and bring her case back on the table.

Lubna is considering getting a Master’s degree and a PhD. She often thinks about her only son, worries about his future, and asks herself, “Is this our last exile? Or will I live and experience other ones?”

Translated from Arabic by Kristina Kaghdo

Contribution to the video filming and production: Mahmoud Abu Ras, Amjad al-Maleh

Drone footage: Abdel Aziz Haj Ahmad

This project was implemented under the Jim Hoge Legacy fellowship, ICFJ in Washington.