4 April - Jeem - The National Dialogue Conference (2012-2014) was a spark of light in the long night of women in Yemen. After the Yemeni revolution in 2011 and the popular movement advocating for the overthrow of President Ali Abdullah Saleh's regime and the establishment of a civil state with equal citizenship, women found themselves, for the first time, in front of an open door, albeit timidly. The 30 percent quota they secured allowed them a chance to sneak into the conference halls and negotiate the country's fate and the constitution with a boldness never before seen in the country.
This women’s quota—guaranteed seats for women—was an unprecedented step to ensure women's participation in the political process after their prominent role in the revolution.
Under the rule of former President Ali Abdullah Saleh, the women's quota was symbolically set at 15 percent, but the reality was very different; only two women were elected out of 301 members in parliament, instead of the 45 women that should have been elected according to this percentage. The 30 percent quota at the National Dialogue Conference was not a privilege women received automatically; it came as a result of continuous pressure from the Yemeni feminist movement, with support from the international community.
During the conference, and after intense discussions, a document was produced that included hundreds of recommendations, upon which the draft of the new constitution was based. Unlike previous constitutions, the proposed constitution recognized women's full citizenship and independent legal personality, and it stipulated a 30 percent quota for women in decision-making positions. This achievement would have placed Yemen second only to Tunisia in terms of the legal representation of women in power.
However, as is often the case in the country, not many dreams are allowed. The coup of 2014 came like an arch breaking in a storm, and the Houthis pulled everything into darkness. Politics retreated, rights scattered, and what had been built in months crumbled in an instant, like a house of cards blown away by the wind.
Yemen, a country that has always known nothing but wars, entered another whirlpool: a civil war eating the souls of its people from the inside, and the war of the Arab coalition led by Saudi Arabia tearing apart what remained of its bare flesh. Between all this, there were the women. Women were always there, but now with heavier shadows and more brutal pain.
The war was not just a war; it was another lust for violence, adding more wounds on top of old ones. The men were not content with blood; they wanted more... more control and more power. Women not only lost the rights they were promised, but they also lost their space of existence. They lost the idea that they had a place in public or even in private; violence against them became another part of the chaos, a natural extension of the wreckage.
Here, unavoidable questions arise: Is this just another end to their long story of injustice? Or is it a turning point that will leave deep impacts on their choices, their role in society, and their space in both public and private life? Will they fade into silence? Or will they create a new path from the rubble?
These are fundamental questions about the future of women in Yemen, where revolutions rise from beneath the ruins.
This women’s quota—guaranteed seats for women—was an unprecedented step to ensure women's participation in the political process after their prominent role in the revolution.
Under the rule of former President Ali Abdullah Saleh, the women's quota was symbolically set at 15 percent, but the reality was very different; only two women were elected out of 301 members in parliament, instead of the 45 women that should have been elected according to this percentage. The 30 percent quota at the National Dialogue Conference was not a privilege women received automatically; it came as a result of continuous pressure from the Yemeni feminist movement, with support from the international community.
During the conference, and after intense discussions, a document was produced that included hundreds of recommendations, upon which the draft of the new constitution was based. Unlike previous constitutions, the proposed constitution recognized women's full citizenship and independent legal personality, and it stipulated a 30 percent quota for women in decision-making positions. This achievement would have placed Yemen second only to Tunisia in terms of the legal representation of women in power.
However, as is often the case in the country, not many dreams are allowed. The coup of 2014 came like an arch breaking in a storm, and the Houthis pulled everything into darkness. Politics retreated, rights scattered, and what had been built in months crumbled in an instant, like a house of cards blown away by the wind.
Yemen, a country that has always known nothing but wars, entered another whirlpool: a civil war eating the souls of its people from the inside, and the war of the Arab coalition led by Saudi Arabia tearing apart what remained of its bare flesh. Between all this, there were the women. Women were always there, but now with heavier shadows and more brutal pain.
The war was not just a war; it was another lust for violence, adding more wounds on top of old ones. The men were not content with blood; they wanted more... more control and more power. Women not only lost the rights they were promised, but they also lost their space of existence. They lost the idea that they had a place in public or even in private; violence against them became another part of the chaos, a natural extension of the wreckage.
Here, unavoidable questions arise: Is this just another end to their long story of injustice? Or is it a turning point that will leave deep impacts on their choices, their role in society, and their space in both public and private life? Will they fade into silence? Or will they create a new path from the rubble?
These are fundamental questions about the future of women in Yemen, where revolutions rise from beneath the ruins.
Violence in the War Zones and Private Life
Amid the war, the parties involved in the conflict sought to gain further advantages at the expense of women, striving to suffocate them and impose strict restrictions on their active roles in resistance and in maintaining the social fabric.
Before the conflict, there were laws that acted as holes in the wall, swallowing women one by one. According to the Yemeni Personal Status Law (issued in 1992 and amended several times), women cannot marry without the permission of a male guardian, nor can they divorce without humiliation. They do not have the same rights as men in divorce, and they cannot retain custody of their children unless a man allows it.
Then came the Houthis, the Yemeni government, and the "Southern Transitional Council" supported by the UAE, tightening these restrictions. They decided that women could only move with permission and travel only with a male relative (a "mahram"). A woman needs written consent from her guardian to be allowed to travel—as if she were a commodity permitted to pass from one checkpoint to another. It is worth noting that the requirement for women to travel with or obtain permission from a male guardian was not imposed before the conflict began.
Young girls and minors, who barely understood the meaning of love and the nature of their own bodies, suddenly found themselves in the beds of men much older than them—by twenty, thirty, or even forty years. There is no minimum age for marriage in Yemen, and there never has been. But the war has made child marriages more widespread, more miserable, and more accepted by hungry families. Nothing protects a girl from poverty and famine except the possibility that a man older than her will bear her expenses.
There were threats, smear campaigns, beatings, and retaliatory detention. Yet, all of this was not enough for the parties to the conflict, who went further, ensuring that women were humiliated in prisons, subjected to sexual violence, and accused of prostitution and debauchery in degrading terms that left a social stigma on the victimized women.
As for the migrants from the Horn of Africa traveling to Saudi Arabia, they have another story. They leave countries ravaged by famine only to find another kind of hunger in Yemen—hunger for power and control. They are subjected to rape and torture at the hands of human traffickers. At the heart of this swamp, violence does not stop at the doors of the war zones; it sneaks into homes, bedrooms, and into the corners of kitchens where mothers cook meals for children who may later kill them.
In recent years, news of women being killed by their male relatives has become routine. A woman is burned in Lahj, another is slaughtered in Hodeidah by her ex-husband, a third is stabbed in Aden by her husband, and a fourth is suffocated with a poisoned needle because she said "no," and mothers are killed by their sons' hands. Death repeats itself like a hymn with new faces and names, all sharing the same fate.
We have seen justice take its course in only a few of these crimes. In February of this year, the Court of Appeal in Aden sentenced the accused, Mohsen Ahmed, to death after proving his involvement in the murder of the victim, Fatima Doman, in August 2023 inside a commercial center in Aden. The perpetrator stabbed his victim several times with a white weapon (a dagger), causing severe bleeding that led to her death.
Thus, the violence against women was not confined to the war zones; it also extended to private life. Domestic violence escalated dangerously as economic and social pressures increased, making women more vulnerable to being killed by family members. In light of the collapse of livelihoods, some men resorted to violence as a means of control and venting their frustration—a behavior that no circumstance can justify. Instead of addressing the real causes of the crisis, violence is directed at women, reflecting the entrenchment of a culture of impunity and the use of force to impose control in the midst of chaos and economic collapse.
In an interview with women’s rights defenders inside Yemen, they confirmed that divorce rates are on the rise, along with increased physical violence against women and children, including continuous beatings and harm. Thus, homes, which should be a safe haven, have turned into other arenas of violence and oppression. Despite this, Yemen still lacks a clear law to protect women from domestic violence.
The Legacy of Violence
Despite all of this, women in Yemeni society hold a special place, rooted in traditions and customs that grant them social respect within the family and community, making the contrast between this respect and the oppressive laws and the painful reality of women’s lives more evident. The duality in how women are treated—between social esteem and legal marginalization—stems from a complex intersection of customs, traditions, and legal structures derived from religious and tribal interpretations.
On one hand, women are seen as the backbone of the family, surrounded by respect and care, but this respect is conditional upon their adherence to strictly defined traditional roles. On the other hand, this view is translated into laws that reinforce male control over their lives, seeing this control as part of “protecting” them, rather than diminishing their rights.
The violence that has increased during the war against women is not just a physical blow to their bodies, but a deep crack in the fabric of society. Women have become the focal point of political and military conflict through systemic violence, including killing, detention, torture, and forced marriages as a means of survival amidst economic collapse.
The restrictions on freedom of movement, such as the "mahram" (male guardian) requirement for travel, are not merely regulatory measures but tools to enforce the control of armed groups over both public and private spheres, thereby strengthening traditional masculine authority in an even more repressive context.
Violence against women has not only erased the limited space for their political and social participation but has also turned their mere presence in public spaces into a direct threat. The targeting of activists and human rights defenders—through threats, slander, and assassinations—further isolates them from the public sphere, reinforcing that the repression of women is not merely a consequence of war, but an integral part of control strategies.
The psychological trauma, with the escalation of violence and systemic repression, has transformed into a daily legacy, with women carrying invisible scars in their bodies and memories, scars that are as painful as physical wounds. However, excessive repression often generates reactions that the perpetrators do not anticipate.
For example, many women have had to rearrange their personal priorities, not based on their desires or ambitions, but according to the harsh necessities imposed by the war.
Although there are no precise statistics on women's participation in the labor market, indicators suggest an increase in their involvement in the workforce in recent years. Some women have even started to take on jobs that were once considered reserved for men. For instance, women never drove taxis before the war; this was the exclusive domain of male drivers. However, young Ghadeer Al-Kholani launched the "Mashwari Hawa" app in Sana’a a year and a half ago to enable women to drive taxis for transporting women and children. The app started with five female drivers and has expanded to include 20 drivers today.
It is widely believed that the years of armed conflict have contributed to a relative increase in women’s employment, with many men losing their income sources or dying, being detained, or injured in the war. As a result, women found themselves forced to take on new roles as breadwinners for their families. While this development may be seen as a positive step, it has been driven by necessity, not as part of an economic liberation planned by the women themselves. There is always the danger of economic exploitation, low wages, and increasing risks to their lives accompanying this step.
In the context of war, the available choices for women are no longer built on desires or dreams; they have become constrained by the harsh realities and the ongoing state of emergency. Priorities have shifted to survival and securing the bare minimum of life, rather than achieving personal fulfillment or ambition.
When Will Change Happen?
The current conflict in Yemen did not create discrimination against women, but it has amplified it and given it new legitimacy, whether through restrictive laws or systemic violence. The war not only erased the few gains women had made since 2011, but it has completely redefined their existence—from active participants to marginalized individuals, from political claimants to victims of escalating violence. The war was also a revelation of the extent of injustice, the depth of exclusion, and the ferocity of those who fear that women might have a voice and a place.
Despite all this repression, there are signs that these forced changes may, in the future, create the impetus for a more radical feminist movement, drawing on the harsh experiences women have endured in the war. With the increasing number of women entering the workforce and becoming self-reliant, and with the growing awareness of different forms of oppression, a new feminist consciousness could emerge, one capable of challenging this reality, whether through human rights struggles or by reconstructing social roles after the war ends. History shows that major crises often serve as a precursor to radical transformations. The question here is not whether change will happen, but when, and what its features will look like.
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*This essay was first written in Arabic for Jeem website (source: here).
