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Syrian Feminism: Questions of Confrontation and the Rights of All Women

Published on 05.08.2026
Reading time: 5 minutes

If feminism is a project rooted in the defense of freedom, equality, and human dignity, then it cannot be selective. A woman does not lose her right to protection because her political affiliation is unpopular, nor does a violation become less serious because it is committed by a new authority or by those who claim to represent a different political discourse from the previous regime. Rights, if they are truly rights, are not determined by the identity of the victim but by their status as universal and indivisible human rights.

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With the fall of the Assad regime and the end of its dominance over political life, Syria’s feminist movements now face a pressing question: what comes next now that the justification long used to explain their weakness has disappeared?

Yet the complexities of the post-Assad period have transformed the nature of that question. The door has opened, at least in theory, to rebuilding the public sphere, returning responsibility to society after decades in which it had been placed almost entirely on authoritarian rule. In this new context, it is both legitimate and necessary to hold rights movements accountable for the roles they play, judging them by their ability to exercise moral independence rather than simply by their history of opposing the former regime.

The feminist movement, perhaps more than any other, is being tested by this moment. The record of the current authorities, who once imposed hudud punishments on women accused of “adultery,” reveals their previous position. Despite the “pragmatic” shifts they now claim to have embraced, those responsible for enforcing such punishments remain in government office, including Judge Shadi al Waisi. This makes the current moment an opportunity to redefine Syrian feminism.

A Unified Feminist Position?

Since the fall of the Assad regime, Syria has witnessed a series of developments that have directly affected women. These include their exclusion and marginalization from political life, the adoption of a model in which a single woman is presented as representing “all” women, the kidnappings of women from the Alawite and Druze communities, and the reinforcement of a singular image of the Syrian woman in public discourse that reduces her to a single cultural or social model.

This has taken many forms, from countless “awareness” campaigns that begin with eye-catching posters, to Sheikh al Dhahabi’s campaigns to distribute niqabs in public spaces, the replacement of photographs of female doctors with cartoon illustrations on a conference poster issued by the Hama Medical Syndicate, and official circulars regulating clothing, modesty, and makeup in several governorates.

The point here is not to evaluate each incident individually or to examine its legal or political dimensions. Rather, it is to highlight a broader pattern: the absence of a unified feminist position that clearly affirms that women’s rights are indivisible and that their dignity should never depend on their political, religious, ethnic, or sectarian identity.

Some may argue that feminist voices did speak out and that statements and public positions were, in fact, issued. That is true. But the existence of individual positions or scattered statements does not answer the question at hand. Social movements are measured by their ability to produce a collective position that can shape public debate and generate social pressure, not simply by the number of voices they contain. This raises a fundamental question: what makes a feminist movement a movement?

Agency and the Layers of Women’s Activism

If feminism is a project rooted in the defense of freedom, equality, and human dignity, then it cannot be selective. A woman does not lose her right to protection because her political affiliation is unpopular, nor does a violation become less serious because it is committed by a new authority or by those who claim to represent a different political discourse from the previous regime. Rights, if they are truly rights, are not determined by the identity of the victim but by their status as universal and indivisible human rights.

This is not an idealistic or purely moral demand. It is the condition that gives any rights movement its legitimacy. Without independence from power, any power, rights movements lose their essential function and gradually become part of the political balance of power instead of serving as a conscience that monitors and challenges it.

But the issue goes beyond maintaining independence and offering criticism from a distance. It also requires effective action on the ground to defend rights. This is where the gap becomes clear between the polished language of NGOs that produces recommendations and the reality of grassroots activism.

The contrast is evident in Syria. On one side are workshops “led by women” from particular social classes that reproduce the discourse of the pre-2011 era. On the other are women who take to the streets, occupying public space through protest and visibility. Some publicly celebrate the niqab, while others demand the right to pass Syrian nationality to their foreign-born children and call for reforms to Syrian law. They bring these issues into the public sphere as everyday concerns rather than reducing them to awareness-raising statements.

Perhaps it is precisely because of this class divide that another, more uncomfortable question must be asked: have we actually succeeded in building a feminist movement with an independent social base, or has much of feminist activism remained confined to NGOs, donor-funded projects, and institutional representation? And has gaining access to decision-making positions become an end in itself rather than a means of defending women and advancing their rights? 

Who Defends the Rights of All Women in Syria?

The point here is not to diminish the importance of women’s presence within the institutions of the “new state.” On the contrary, women’s full participation in political life is a fundamental requirement for any genuine democratic transition. But that participation loses its meaning if it is not accompanied by the ability to hold those in power accountable and to stand with women whenever their rights are violated, regardless of who holds power or who the victim is.

Transitional periods are not only a test for new authorities. They are also a test for the movements that demanded change. It is in moments like these that it becomes clear whether the principles those movements championed were truly universal or simply directed against a particular political adversary. When silence becomes more comfortable than confrontation, the line between rights-based discourse and political discourse begins to blur.

Today, the Syrian feminist movement may be facing the most significant test in its modern history. Not because it is expected to hold a single position on every issue, nor because it must issue a statement after every incident, but because it must uphold the principle that gives it meaning: defending the rights of all women without exception, without selectivity, and without fear of confronting those in power or distancing itself from them.

At its core, a feminist position is not about aligning with those in power, siding with a particular group, or seeking symbolic representation within state institutions. It is a sustained commitment to the principle of justice. When silence itself becomes the position, the loss extends beyond the weakening of the movement’s voice. It also erodes confidence in this voice’s ability to represent all women.