What does it mean for people to protest? I believe the answer cannot be given in a superficial definition, but rather through understanding the nature of the act itself, as an extension of a collective stance reflecting an imbalance between the ruler and the ruled, between public rights and their confiscation, between the state as a guardian entity and power as a tool for appropriation.

At its core, a protest is a political act. It makes no difference whether people take to the streets demanding basic services or protesting an authoritarian decision; politics is not an exclusive domain of elites, but an expression of managing public affairs. Demanding livelihood rights such as electricity and water, or better salaries due to the collapse of the national currency, is itself a positioning at the heart of politics, not on its margins.

Therefore, the distinction between “political protests” and “non-political” ones, or between “women’s” and “men’s” protests, is a misleading reduction of the protest act and an attempt to strip it of its essential content. The differentiation is not in form but in stance; when women take to the streets, as happened in Khormaksar Square in Aden, the temporary capital of the Republic of Yemen, on the afternoon of Saturday, May 10, 2025, demanding under the banner of the “Women’s Revolution” accountability for corrupt officials and the provision of the most basic necessities of life, they are exercising a legitimate political right and advancing into a space from which they have long been marginalized.

“We only want our rights as human beings, a dignified life befitting us, and equal citizenship that we deserve,” says Judge Noura Daif Allah Qaatabi, from Aden, adding: “I am proud to belong to the women of my beautiful city of Aden, the glorious, strong women who loudly demand their rights and demands without hesitation or fear. We will continue until we achieve our demands, rights, and the dignified life we long for, and we will embody it as an inevitable reality.”

But, as in every free protest scene, danger lurks in attempts at co-optation, where political forces seek to turn the protest into a platform for their own support, even if they are themselves part of the power structure being condemned.

In the women’s protest in Aden, the “Women’s Revolution,” there was an attempt to divert the course when slogans supporting the Southern Transitional Council were raised. This council is a component that actually participates in the Presidential Leadership Council and the government itself, with the governor of Aden belonging to the Transitional Council and also being a member of the government. Here, the paradox becomes glaring: is it acceptable for a party to protest against itself?

What intensifies the harshness of this paradox is that Yemeni women, despite all the slogans raised since 2015 about empowerment and participation, remain excluded from real representation in decision-making positions. Despite five successive prime ministers since that year (Khaled Bahhah, Ahmed bin Dagher, Moeen Abdulmalek, Ahmed bin Mubarak, and Salem bin Breik), no woman has been granted a ministerial portfolio to this day. This absence is not only explained by political shortcomings but reflects – in my view – a troubled governance structure that keeps women outside the equation of action, even in moments when the authority claims transformation and openness. It is a soft exclusion, in which the authority conspires with the masculine mentality, confiscating any possibility of real equality, or even some real equality, in representing societal issues.

The success of protests, especially when led by women, is not measured only by numbers or resonance but by their ability to remain faithful to the core demands and to stay away from alignments that exploit popular anger for narrow agendas.

In the troubled Yemeni context, the women’s protest becomes a dual act: a reclaiming of rights and a symbolic resistance to the culture of complicity that turns every protest into political spoils.

More precisely, the success of women’s protests is measured not by the number of participants but by the extent to which they maintain the independence of their demands and their ability to challenge attempts at co-optation. In the face of a shocking and frustrating Yemeni reality where everyone evades responsibility, women’s voices emerge more honestly and clearly because they come from a place of suffering, not from the corridors of power.

At its core, protest is not a rhetorical occasion but – as I believe – a confrontation with a structure of imbalance that must be dismantled, and this should be understood by the women who took to the streets in Aden, and by men alike. Therefore, regardless of its form or name—“Women’s Revolution” or “Women’s Uprising”—the protest should not be measured by its proximity or distance from power but by its sincerity in representing the pain of the people.

In the end, no protest is innocent of politics, but true politics is that which listens to the people’s anger, not the one that exploits and distorts it.