Since I began studying post-2003 Iraq, three events in particular have shocked me about the experiences of Iraqi women during this period of significant change in the country.
My first shock came in 2014 when I visited my family in Iraq for the first time and began to learn about my roots. One day, while I was out in public, a family member told me off for laughing too loudly, warning that it might attract unwanted male attention. I was surprised to discover that this behavior, labeled 3ayb (a term for dishonor in Arabic), was regarded as more serious than many other significant offenses.
Then, the second shock occurred in 2018 when I watched the BBC documentary Undercover With The Clerics: Iraq’s Secret Sex Trade, reported by journalist Nawal Al Magafi. This eye-opening documentary reveals how some clerics in Karbala and Baghdad exploit vulnerable girls and young women through so-called “pleasure marriages” (known in Arabic as mut’ah). At one point in the documentary, a young woman shared that a cleric sold her to his friends, while hidden cameras captured another cleric arranging a “pleasure marriage” with a girl who was only 13 years old.
Finally, the third shock, which I want to address here, is the most recent attempt by the Iraqi parliament to amend the Personal Status Law. Established in 1959, this law is deemed one of the most progressive for Muslims in the region, covering marriage, divorce, and inheritance. However, the proposed changes would allow couples to choose between the Personal Status Law and specific sect laws, potentially leading to unequal protections and deepening existing divides. This amendment could also legalize unregistered marriages, increasing the risk of child marriages for girls as young as nine, while making it more difficult for women to access healthcare and legal rights.
The process of amending this law has gone through several stages. The first reading occurred on Aug.4, 2024, following similar proposals that failed in both 2014 and 2017 due to public outcry. On Sept. 3, the parliament attempted a second reading, but a boycott disrupted the session. The second reading eventually took place on Sept. 16, during which women MPs voiced their frustration over having their concerns ignored. To the surprise of many, on Sept. 17, the Iraqi Federal Supreme Court ruled that the proposed amendments were constitutionally valid. Finally, on Oct. 2, the parliament was scheduled to vote on these amendments; however, the meeting was canceled at the last moment.
When discussing the Personal Status Law, it’s crucial to recognize that child marriage is not a new issue in Iraq; it has deep historical roots influenced by various factors. First, education plays a vital role. In 2018, approximately 46.2% of women aged 20-24 who married before age 18 had little to no education, compared to only 8.5% of those who received higher education. That said, years of conflict have caused many children to miss school, increasing the likelihood of early marriage. Second, poverty is another significant factor. Many families facing economic hardships often feel pressured to marry off their daughters to ease their financial struggles. In fact, that year, about 35.8% of women from the poorest households were married as children, while only 14.2% of those from wealthier families faced the same situation. Third, religion also plays a critical role. Sharia law, which governs family law in Iraq, provides limited protections for girls and women. For example, some clerics conduct child marriages without official registration, leaving brides without legal rights.
The idea of honor also plays a big part in how and why child marriages are so common. Many families believe that marrying off their daughters off early protects their own honor, with older generations often stating that keeping an unmarried girl at home is similar to storing “a barrel of gunpowder.” This implies that child marriage is viewed as a means to prevent any inappropriate relationships, though it doesn’t mean that it promotes healthy, consensual unions or safeguards children’s rights.
While some may view child marriage as a means of survival— especially for girls from poor families— I, along with many women around the world, believe it should be made illegal wherever possible. Unfortunately, this is not the case in Iraq, and I find myself mourning the futures of these young girls if the amendments move forward.
My mourning comes with criticism— not aimed at the country I love, but directed at the lawmakers in power, some of whom have daughters, sisters, or cousins— who choose to control women’s futures instead. Rather than focusing on how to protect women and girls in Iraq, these lawmakers seem more concerned with limiting their rights. Addressing complex issues like religion and family honor that contribute to child marriage can be challenging, but it’s crucial to start with more manageable factors, such as lack of education and poverty. By improving these areas— issues highlighted during the October protests in 2019— girls can find viable pathways to escape harmful situations while taking control of their own fate, gain independence along the way, and make informed decisions about their own lives without the pressure of forced marriage, societal expectations, or familial obligations.
My mourning for these girls’ futures is rooted not only in current events but also in reflections from the past, especially through my mother’s stories about her life as a woman in Iraq. She often says “‘Ayam helwa” (which translates to “sweet days” in Arabic) as she reminisces about her upbringing, particularly in the late ’70s. Just before leaving Iraq in 1980, she experienced a time when the country had a strong education system, with female literacy rates reaching 87% by 1985, with and women playing ed important roles in both the private and public sectors.
During that time, my mother was not surrounded by discussions of restrictive laws; instead, the focus was on the future and what laid ahead for her. Encouraged by her parents to excel in her education and career, she embraced opportunities that allowed her to follow in the footsteps of Zaha Hadid in the field of architecture, ultimately establishing herself as an architectural engineer. But as beautiful as these memories of education and success are for my mother, they also weigh heavily on her heart. She frequently asks me, “What if we had never left Iraq? What if you had to grow up under these dangerous laws?” These questions are never-ending.
As I and the rest of the world await the outcome of the proposed amendments to the Personal Status Law— potentially allowing girls as young as nine to marry men twice their age, if not more— I feel a deep sense of anxiety, and I know I am not alone in these thoughts. Over the past two weeks, I have reached out to Iraqi women who are currently working on or fighting for women’s rights, and they share my concerns.
Nadje Al-Ali, a professor of International Studies and Anthropology at Brown University, expressed her feelings to me: “I feel saddened, worried, and angry about these plans, which contradict everything that generations of Iraqi women (and men) have struggled for. This effort to amend these laws is more a sign of weakness than strength; men feel so threatened by girls and women that they are trying to control them at all costs.”
Razaw Salayi, an Iraq researcher at Amnesty International, echoed these sentiments, stating, “I worry for displaced little girls and teens who are at acute risk of being married off to relieve economic pressure. Families across Iraq live in poverty, and girls always bear the brunt of that. ‘Honor,’ poverty, and tribal negotiations— how young will the victims be in the years to come? If we continue down this path, generations of girls will grow into women deprived of education, healthy lives, and the most basic rights.”
Naturally, my conversations with Al-Ali and Salayi led me to ask about the future for these women if the amendments were to pass. Salayi explained the dangers well: legalizing child marriage would expose young girls to increased violence and serious health risks, including maternal mortality and life-long emotional trauma. These issues would be worsened by an already struggling healthcare system. In the long term, allowing child marriage would perpetuate poverty and gender inequality. Young brides are less likely to finish their education, limiting their job opportunities and financial independence. Furthermore, the amendment could also increase illiteracy rates among women and reinforce social norms that restrict their roles.
Creating separate legal frameworks based on sects would also deepen sectarian divides, leaving women and girls vulnerable to religious interpretations of their rights rather than ensuring equality under Iraqi and international law for all. Over time, these changes would likely roll back progress in women’s rights, reversing efforts for equality in a country once known for its progressiveness laws. Nadje adds, “If the amendments go through, harmful social practices of child marriage will be decriminalized, normalized, and likely to increase.
“Girls and young women could be deprived of education and forced into unwanted marriages, facing sexual abuse and early pregnancies, leading to both physical and mental health repercussions. The amended laws would also lead to increased vulnerabilities and a loss of rights regarding divorce and inheritance.”
Shanaz Ibrahim Ahmed, the First Lady of Iraq, has also weighed in on what the future may hold, stating on X (formerly Twitter) on Oct. 3: “Some of these amendments might threaten decades of progress that we realized in securing the rights of women and children in our country.”
Since the proposal to amend was first announced, many have taken to the streets to protest, with the latest demonstration on Oct. 11 denouncing threats to women and girls, including fears of child marriage. Currently, little information has been shared about when the next meeting will take place.
Waiting for the final verdict is stressful, but during this time, there are ways to help ease the worry. One can read poetry that advocates for Iraqi women’s rights, like that of Nazik al-Malaika, or speak with others who share the same concerns. Besides these two approaches during these challenging times, I am also finding comfort in looking through photos of my mum and her friends from late ’70s Iraq. I don’t do this to romanticize the past, but to remind myself that there is hope and good news could be on the way.
