Occupation of Iraq destroys women's lives

By Serene Assir

A US soldier stands over an Iraqi woman in her home, May 2008. (Jason Fudge)



http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11723.shtml

January 10, 2011

More than seven years after the US- and UK-led invasion of their country, Iraqis continue to endure an occupation that has systematically violated their rights to life, dignity, self-determination and economic development. The occupation has been and continues to be so destructive and so violent that one in four Iraqis are estimated to be dead or displaced. One in five Iraqis has been made a refugee or an internally displaced person (IDP).

In particular, the role and situation of women and girls has declined precipitously compared to prior to the invasion. From torture to rape to assassination, from forced separation for mixed couples to women and their children enduring the death of their husbands and fathers, from a loss of educational rights to expulsion from the workplace and public life, and from sexual slavery to forced flight or enforced disappearance, for the past seven years Iraqi women and girls have endured the most terrifying of fates. They are living at the mercy of an occupation that both seeks to terrorize them into submission, and to use them as objects for the terrorization of the whole of Iraqi society.

No security

Dr. Souad al-Azzawi, who authored a study on Iraqi women entitled "Deterioration of Iraq women's rights and living conditions under occupation," published in January 2008, told The Electronic Intifada: "The most significant loss that Iraqi women have suffered is a complete and total loss of security." She explained that the loss of security entails both the loss of physical security and "the economic, social and civil securities Iraqi women were so accustomed to prior to the occupation."

In fact, it appears that the loss of physical and other aspects of security have a Catch-22 effect on the lives of women. The lack of legal and institutional support for women by an Iraqi puppet government which is at best ineffective has meant that in the vast majority of cases the criminals, mafias, militias, death squads, US occupation forces and Iraqi police and army forces committing crimes against women are not held accountable for their actions. This has in turn encouraged the development of a situation characterized by lawlessness and criminality, in which women are prime targets. As such, many women have been forced to leave their jobs and quit their education, for fear that they may be the next victim of rape or assassination.

According to al-Azzawi, Iraqi women have had to resort to "the relative security of their homes," often taking their children out of school too if they were the only parent able to accompany them there and back.

Echoing al-Azzawi's words, an Iraqi refugee speaking on condition of anonymity said that she was forced to leave Iraq precisely because of death threats issued against her by militias who had found out she was actively working as a journalist seeking to expose the injustices taking place against women. Had she stayed in Iraq, the threats likely would have been fulfilled.

"Not only was I being targeted, but I was also without protection, given that Iraq has no government to speak of," she explained. She added that "I could have been killed at any moment, and no one would have been held accountable for it. It was for one reason alone that I fled: because I had no choice."

Criminal levels of poverty

The figures speak for themselves. According to a dossier on Iraqi women published by the BRussells Tribunal, prior to the invasion 72 percent of working women were government employees. The dismantlement of state institutions immediately after the invasion meant that these women became unemployed. Instability and ineffective institutions in Iraq render it impossible to pinpoint the total rate of unemployment today, but estimates range from 15 percent to 70 percent. The few stable jobs that exist, according to the dossier, are usually given to men, though a growing number of female-headed households means that many women need to take extraordinary risks in order to try and cater for their children ("Iraqi Women Under Occupation" [PDF]).

The same economic insecurity affects Iraqi refugee families. Aseer al-Madaien, the Protection Officer for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) - Syria, says that out of 139,000 registered Iraqis in Syria, 28 percent are households headed by women. In total, estimates for the total number of displaced Iraqis, including both refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs), range up to almost five million, according to the international organization Medecins Sans Frontieres, which believes that there are 2.5 million Iraqi IDPs and 2.3 million refugees.

IDPs suffer both extreme vulnerability and insecurity, as they seek refuge in the homes of relatives and friends, said Hana Al Bayaty, member of the Executive Committee of the BRussells Tribunal. Many of them are the victims of ethnic cleansing, whereby a country once free of sectarianism is increasingly witnessing the targeting of persons on the basis of their religion or ethnicity. Mixed marriages in these conditions are all too often broken up by force, according to a report published by the UN-affiliated IRIN humanitarian news agency ("Mixed Marriages confront Sectarian Violence," 6 April 2006).

The majority of Iraqi refugees have headed to neighboring countries Syria and Jordan, where they are not allowed to work, as they are legally considered "guests." In 2007, the UNHCR reported that an estimated 40 percent of Iraq's middle class had fled the country. Not only have almost half of those with the qualifications and experience to help rebuild Iraq left the country, but they are also suffering from the most extreme form of disempowerment, according to Al Bayaty.

Al-Azzawi explained that "For the educated middle class, this situation is shattering as everything we have worked so hard to earn and build up over decades of war and sanctions is being brought down by military force before our very eyes."

Unable to work legally, it is often refugee women who take upon themselves the burden and the risk of working as they are less likely to be asked for documentation on the streets of Amman, Damascus and beyond, and they thereby hope to be less likely to be deported.

Unemployment levels in Syria and Jordan, however, mean that even illegal work is hard to come by. It is because of this that the phenomenon of forced prostitution is becoming increasingly rife. The growing problem of sex trafficking is partly caused by poverty.

According to al-Azzawi, the lack of work permits, qualifications and opportunities "leads some women to prostitution in order to feed their children and their families." In other cases, the sheer lack of protection faced by some women push them into prostitution. Problems in such cases include threats of kidnapping issued against women should they not accept to prostitute themselves. These threats are issued especially against women whose husbands are dead or missing. "The women of Iraq live in a very fragile situation as a result of the American occupation's crimes," al-Azzawi said.

Death, torture and enforced disappearance

No statistical reference can adequately convey the sheer suffering experienced by the people of Iraq, as a whole, from the genocidal sanctions period through the invasion and ensuing occupation. Current estimates place the number of dead at anywhere between 1.5 million and 2.5 million.

According to Iraqi human rights analyst and advocate Asma al-Haidari, "Up to one million Iraqis have been forcibly disappeared." Behind the enforced disappearances are the US army, Iraqi government forces including the army and police, and al-Qaeda and other militias that operate freely across the country, according to a presentation given by Dirk Adriaensens, member of the BRussells Tribunal Executive Committee, at a London conference organized by the International Committee Against Disappearances on 9-12 December 2010. According to calculations by Adriaensens, based on UNHCR statistics, 20 percent of internally displaced Iraqi families have reported cases of missing children ("Enforced Disappearance. The Missing Persons of Iraq" [PDF]).

It is also understood that, given that there is a very real and justified fear of retaliation against families who report the disappearances of their loved ones, many others suffer in silence. Thousands of detainees, some of them in secret, illegal prisons, according to al-Azzawi, are women. Estimates published in 2008 by the Iraqi Parliamentary Women's Committee and the Iraqi Ministry of Women's Affairs indicate that between one and two million Iraqi women are widows.

Inside Iraq's jails, legal or not, cases of torture and sexual abuse have been widely reported. Revelations by WikiLeaks published on 22 October 2010 were described by Iraqi activists such as Sabah al-Mukhtar, president of the Arab Lawyers' Union, as just "the tip of the iceberg," as he said on an Al-Jazeera English interview on 24 October. According to al-Azzawi, women are usually jailed on trumped-up charges of terrorism, where there is no proof and while there is no adequate legal system to ensure their right to a fair trial. "Many are awaiting execution," al-Azzawi added.

Further, when it is the man who disappears, whether he is dead or missing, women and their families have to fend for themselves in a hellish situation. Out of this horror comes forth one of the more obtuse trends, inexistent in Iraq up until 2003, of families giving their daughters away in early marriage for fear of being unable to adequately support them.

One immediate effect of this phenomenon is the fact that girls aged 13, 14 and 15 sold into early marriage lose their right to education. As figures currently stand, according to the United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) report published on 1 September 2010, for every 100 boys in school, there are only 89 girls ("Girls Education in Iraq 2010" [PDF]).

"Lots of those little girls are very bright and are willing to finish their education if they are allowed to," said al-Azzawi.

Worse still is the flourishing of what are known as "pleasure marriages." These are short-term marriages conducted out of court, whereby separation is also very simple. It is a practice that Iraqi women's rights advocates describe as linked to prostitution, because of the wrongful abuse of the practice by men in power, often blackmailing fathers into giving their daughters away in a "pleasure marriage," and also because once a girl or a woman has married in this way and has received alimony for her short-term commitment, she will find it very difficult to reintegrate back into her family.

"Many girls are forced into prostitution and ultimately sex trafficking this way," al-Azzawi added.

Forced Islamization of society

It is deeply telling that Iraqi society is becoming forcibly Islamized by militias tied to the Iraqi puppet government, which is dependent upon the United States for its survival. Meanwhile, Washington claims to be fighting a war on Islamic terrorism. The reality, as is frequently the case, is the precise opposite. Previously a secular state, Iraqi society is becoming forcibly transformed into a theocracy. In such systems, women and girls inevitably lose.

The results of the proliferation of fundamentalist militias are varied. While reports of Christian women veiling in order to avoid attacks are troubling in the Iraqi context, what is potentially much worse is that the notion of an Iraqi state for all its citizens is fast disappearing. Not only does this mean that Iraqi girls are no longer safe on the streets; it also means that if the occupation fulfills its goals, Iraqi "career women" may be a thing of the past.

Al-Azzawi notes that "Economically the country has lost a huge, skilled working force, which is exactly what the occupation planned to do, and the lives of millions of working women and families were shattered."

Considering that there is not a single right enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that the US occupation has not violated -- as the International Initiative to Prosecute US Genocide in Iraq team found when working in 2009 to bring a legal case for war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide against four US presidents and four UK prime ministers -- it is amazing yet encouraging that the US occupation's goals have failed.

Not only is the US administration under President Barack Obama still battling to maintain control over a country whose people resist in the name of their dignity and their love for Iraq, but many of the most outspoken and brilliant advocates for Iraqis' rights in general are in fact women.

"I have much hope for Iraq," said human rights advocate Asma al-Haidari, "Nothing will make me lose hope."

Serene Assir is a Lebanese independent writer and journalist based in Spain.

Iraqi Women Quietly Endure Horrors of War

By Cyril Mychalejko
11 March, 2008
Countercurrents.org

March 8 marks the 99th celebration of International Women's Day, a day to commemorate the political, social, and economic struggles and achievements of women globally.

This year we should use the holiday to observe and reflect on the suffering of Iraqi women, who have become invisible "collateral damage" in our country's war in this now defenseless Middle Eastern nation. A good place to start would be by picking up and reading Haifa Zangana's book, "City of Widows: An Iraqi Woman's Account of War and Resistance." Zangana is an Iraqi woman, journalist and activist, who was also a former prisoner of Saddam Hussein's regime. She dedicated her book to A'beer Quassim Hamza al-Janaby.

Who is al-Janaby?

She was a 14-year-old Iraqi girl who was gang raped and set on fire by five U.S. soldiers in March 2006 (while her family was murdered as well). This is just one extreme case. But while this horrifying crime received some attention in the media, though not nearly enough (think JonBenet Ramsey), there have been countless others which have gone uncovered. Zangana points out in her book there have been 1,053 cases of documented rape between 2003 and 2007.

Zangana also puts into perspective what the number of civilian deaths means in Iraq, which some estimates suggest eclipsed 1 million people. She cites a 2006 report that stated more than 90 women become widows each day.

"Since men are the main target of US led troops, militias and death squads…It is women who have come to bury the dead. Baghdad has become a city of bereaved women," writes Zangana.
Women are also bearing the brunt of the ongoing refugee crisis. According to an Iraqi Red Crescent report titled "The Internally Displaced People in Iraq" released Jan. 27, there are more than 2 million internally displaced peoples (refugees), while women and children under the age of 12 compose roughly 82 percent of this staggering number.

But I would be doing Iraqi women and Zangana's "City of Windows" a disservice by solely focusing on suffering and their role as victims. Because despite the web of destruction, violence and repression Iraqi women face on a daily basis, we must not forget their acts of courage and empowerment despite the hardships they are facing.

Iraq has a strong history of women's activism through arts, literature, politics and revolution. This can help explain why Iraq, while under the tyrannical rule of Sadaam Hussein, was still one of the most progressive countries in the Middle East regarding women's rights. In fact, UNICEF reported in 1993, "Rarely do women in the Arab world enjoy as much power and support as they do in Iraq."

But sadly Zangara points out that things have gotten worse, not better, after the "liberation" and during the current occupation—despite claims by the Bush Administration that the emancipation of Iraqi women was yet another reason to justify this war.

"In reality, Iraq now has US-sponsored medieval sectarian militias who have barbaric ideas about women's role in society," writes Zangana.

But Iraqi women continue to persevere.

Hana Ibrahim is a shining example that Zangana uses. She is an "independent left wing activist" dating back to the 1970's, and former editor of the weekly newsletter Gender, which covered problems Iraqi women faced at home and in the workplace. In 2002 Ibrahim founded the organization Iraqi Women's Will (IWW). IWW initially started as a women's cultural center in Baghdad which hosted events such as art exhibits and poetry readings. But after the invasion in 2003 IWW was kicked out of its space by gunmen, before the government at the time led by Paul Bremer reclaimed the space only to give it to the US funded NGO Women for Women International.

But Ibrahim would not be deterred. The organization continues to run, though its focus has shifted to ending the occupation and working to improve the political, social and economic rights of women in the country.

But any Iraqi woman could be used an example. Just getting out of bed, taking care of self and family, and living in a country with a wrecked medical system, where electricity is available for only a few hours a day, where clean water is inaccessible for over 70 percent of the population, and where armed militias and mercenaries run rampant—is a heroic act.

By pointing out the hardships Iraqi women face is not an indictment of this war in Iraq—it is an indictment of war period. Each of us needs to ask ourselves, what is the responsibility we bear as citizens of the country which has executed this war?

Ignorance is not an excuse, and apathy is acquiescence.

Heroines - the daily life of Iraq's war widows

Written by: Iraqi women's organisations
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Eighty-two percent of the 2.4 million people displaced inside Iraq are women and young children under the age of 12. Many mothers have lost their husbands in the sectarian violence that has torn the nation apart. But in the face of adversity, they are proving to be true heroines.
These stories, collected by women's organisations in Iraq ahead of International Women's Day on March 8, give a rare insight into how Iraqi widows are helping their families survive while retaining their dignity in times of extreme suffering.

Suhair's story

For the war widows who have moved to the outskirts of Baghdad from all over the country to try to eke out a living, each day is a struggle for survival.
"A lot of these women are young - they are not the 'old ladies' we'd imagine as widows, as we did in the past," says one such woman, Suhair.
"Without food and electricity, it's getting harder and harder to provide for our families. When we wake up in the morning the first thing that we think about is if there is any electricity or fuel. We think about how we are going to put food on the table."
Women like Suhair take great risks by selling what they can - usually chewing gum or tissues - in violence hotspots.

"This phenomenon was hardly visible prior to 2003," says Suhair. "We women face a lot of danger in doing this. The fear of having your children's lives, your life taken away is constant... Your mind stops functioning when on your way to work you see a car near you and you fear it could explode."

There are no longer any vehicles in the streets at the entrance of this part of Baghdad because people are so afraid of car bombings.
"Even in the summer, we sell gas on the streets when it's 60-70 degrees Celsius," she says. "We go to the gas station, wait in line for hours and get very little in return for our hard work. We have to go to the market every day as there is little electricity and food needs to be preserved, especially in summer. Refrigerators are rarely used any more for their original purpose. They are now being used in houses as additional cupboards!"

It's not surprising that fear dominates the minds of these women, especially when they visit places notorious for violence to make their living: markets, gas stations, crowded streets.
"A mother usually has a panic attack when she hears car bombings or shootings," Suhair says. "We ask whether it is our child that might have been killed. As mothers, we cannot hide the reality on our doorsteps as our children face seeing dead people on a daily basis; such a sight has become the norm in their lives.

"But as mothers we are the source of calmness and affection for our children. We have to hide our emotions, keep them to ourselves so that our kids do not feel afraid or worried."

Huda's story

In Huda's house, it's hard not to miss the gaping hole where a mortar fell. Three widows and seven children still live here.
Sewage flows outside the house through an open channel where it finally drains into a big pond. Children play in this water. They are barefoot and wear filthy, torn clothes.
Huda says she lost her husband and her eldest son in the first year of the conflict. Her second son died shortly after, leaving behind a wife and five children.

It's incredible how Huda is managing to look after the family. The area she lives in offers no job prospects so she ekes out a living by baking bread to barter with her neighbours.
An old clay-oven sits in the corner of the room. Pieces of wooden logs are scattered around. With no gas or electricity, Huda uses logs and dry wood that she collects nearby.

She reflects on how things have changed since the war began.
"Life was difficult back then but not as hard as today. When my husband was alive, he used to take up all responsibilities. Now I work from dawn till night. I've become like a machine. I don't enjoy life but I work so we don't need help from anybody."

She pulls one of the children to her, strokes his face and says: "We live on the minimum... I work all day so we can eat. If we do not work, we eat what is left of the stale bread or old food with that so-called tea that we now drink... We cannot visit a doctor if we fall ill.
"Life used to be much better than it is now. We always say yesterday was better than today. It's me and the other widows who do everything now that there are no men to support us. Every day the situation gets more and more difficult."

Basima's story

A dirt road leads to Basima's home on the outskirts of Baghdad. We see her sitting under the sun, watching her grandchildren. Their father is missing. He is one of those labelled "missing with no news".

Basima is about 60 years old. She wears black, as she has done for decades - a sign of how long she has been mourning for her lost family.
Her house is made of mud. It has one room with a small window and a door. She has painted the walls with gypsum and covered the floor with straw mats made of reeds.
Part of the ceiling has fallen. Termites have attacked the beams. She had to build her own roof, on her own, out of mud, soil and hay.

She tells us her house is 3 km from the nearest water source.
"I have two plastic canisters to gather water. One of them holds 20 litres of water. Sometimes I borrow the neighbour's donkey to carry the water but the rest of the time I do it myself. The conditions here are very bad - there is no water, no oil, not enough gas... Since my husband died I receive no pension. I do everything myself."

A tear rolls down her cheek as she lifts her grandson to her lap. The child is thin, wearing a light blouse that doesn't protect him from the cold winter or the heat of summer. He sucks his thumb, something we are told he has done since his mum was killed along with his grandfather, father and uncle.

Basima works all day to provide for her two grandchildren.
"Sometimes we sleep without dinner but I work on a small piece of land that has been given to us which does bring us some food. I go out to collect wood to keep us warm and to cook with."
She goes on: "Sometimes, I wish Allah would take my soul, but my grandchildren, who would take care of them if I were not here? I am a woman taking sole responsibility of my two grandchildren. I've counted the days I've lived like this - I've been here for two years, five months and four days."

Shukriya's story

Shukriya, a 50-year-old woman with six children, lives in a temporary home with no glass in the windows. The floor and walls are made of earth. In spite of the cold weather, all the family members wear summer clothes - they can't afford to buy anything else.
"We have no toilet or bathroom so we go outside," she says. "I built a simple roof from palm leaves, where we wash - I have to heat the water in a metal bucket."

The family has no mats to sleep on nor covers to keep them warm at night. I'm told the roof drips a little but that it is more protected than other people's homes.
When the rain is heavy, Shukriya shares the little space she has with other members of her family. "During the last heavy rain, I took in 14 relatives - we all stayed in one room."
I ask her how life was before the war.

"My family life used to be so different. I wouldn't say we lived as kings but we lived a decent life, a life that meant we didn't go hungry. We owned our own home and didn't have to move from place to place as we do now.
"We had livestock and I planted vegetables and watermelons and helped our men in farming, cropping, harvesting and marketing produce. This was enough to put food on our plates. We got our fair share and it paid quite well."

These days, the family usually only has bread and tea, and often they go to bed without any food at all. They are entitled to food rations every month but the collection point is too far away and Shukriya can't afford to pay for transport. She manages to scrape enough money together to go every three months. This serves to at least supplement the little they have.

"My children have offered to go and get the rations themselves but I fear for their safety, so often I go instead of them," she says.

Shukriya didn't say, but I know many women in her position are victims of violence on such journeys.

"My six children want to work to try to help out the family situation and bring in some income for us all. Unfortunately, no one wants to employ them as they can't read nor write. They go out and try to do what they can but they often come back empty-handed. It's difficult for me to get a job because I can't read or write either."

She continued: "Sometimes I collect Pepsi cans and nylon to sell to factories who recycle them. That way I can make small amounts of money."
Shukriya has asthma due to direct exposure to smoke and fire while baking bread. The damp in her home adds to the condition.

"I no longer have my husband," she says. "He died of tuberculosis. So nowadays, I am completely responsible for my children. It's a big responsibility but what else can I do? I also look after my sister-in-law, which is difficult. She is disabled and therefore can't help us get what we need to live.

"These are our circumstances and this is our life."

http://www.alertnet.org/db/blogs/49959/2008/02/7-114838-1.htm