Shna Faiq (left), an Iraqi Kurdish journalist, when she was still working for the independent media outlet Roj News in Iraqi Kurdistan. Photo provided by Shna Faiq.
In the autonomous region of Iraqi Kurdistan, journalists who investigate sensitive topics are regularly subjected to pressure and reprisals. For women, practicing journalism also involves facing gender discrimination and the weight of social norms.
By Charlotte Dessolin
“The threats and intimidation intensified as soon as I was appointed. At first, the goal was to shut down the agency’s operations,” she says. Founded on three principles, women’s liberation, democracy, and the environment, Roj News covered topics considered “red lines” by regional authorities.
Although the autonomous region of Iraqi Kurdistan is often portrayed as more stable and open than the rest of Iraq, critical journalists there are regularly subjected to legal proceedings, arrests, smear campaigns, or intimidation.
Media outlets aligned with the ruling parties largely dominate the media landscape, while independent newsrooms operate in an increasingly restrictive environment.
“When they see that they can neither buy us off with money nor intimidate us with threats, they don’t hesitate to imprison us, or even assassinate us,” says Shna Faik.
This view is shared by Chawaran Mahmud, a journalist with the independent media outlet Shar Press. “This profession carries life-threatening risks for a female journalist in Iraq and in the Kurdistan Region,” she says.
Specializing in investigations into corruption and violations of citizens’ rights, she has faced multiple forms of pressure. While investigating the illicit oil trade, she explains that she was prevented from filming and conducting interviews in the field. After her reports were published, her Facebook page was the target of several hacking attempts.
Gender-based repression
Shna Faiq was the first woman to be appointed editor-in-chief of an Iraqi Kurdish media outlet.
This is a tactic frequently used against critical journalists. Shna Faik has also been a victim of it. “Because I am a woman, the authorities adopted a more vicious method to repress me: personal intimidation and defamation,” she continues. For women journalists, the pressure goes beyond the methods typically used against the independent press. It often takes on a personal and gendered dimension.
After her Facebook account was hacked, sexually explicit photos were sent in her name to groups of professional journalists. “Their goal was to level moral and sexist accusations against me, but it proved futile; not only was I not afraid, but my hatred for them grew day by day,” she explains.
She also recounts having repeatedly received photographs of dead women accompanied by the message: “Your fate will be the same as theirs.” She shared these threats only with her outlet’s management so as not to “spread fear and anxiety” among her colleagues.
Despite threats from the authorities and social pressure, Shna Faiq has always fought to freely practice her profession in her country. Photo provided by Shna Faiq.
Chawaran Mahmud also describes the violence she has endured while doing her job. “My personal cell phone was stolen, my equipment was confiscated, and my press credentials were also seized,” she lists.
Faced with this pressure, the journalists interviewed emphasize the importance of professional solidarity. “We protected one another and drew strength from one another,” says Shna Faik. But being a journalist in Iraqi Kurdistan doesn’t just mean confronting political authorities. It also means navigating the expectations of a society that remains largely conservative.
Fight against patriarchy
“At first, it was difficult; I had to force myself not to let the community’s taunts get to me,” she recalls. “I had to keep an eye on the time and not come home too late, so that my family wouldn’t stop me from pursuing my career out of fear of what people might say. ”
Although her family ultimately supported her career choice, they were not entirely immune to society’s judgment. The pressure extended even into her family circle. She recalls a conversation involving her older brother: “Someone had told him, ‘If you don’t stop your sister, she’ll surely be killed.’ My brother replied, ‘We know how dangerous her work is, but if we stop her, we’ll be the ones killing her.’ ”
In an environment where women journalists remain a minority, professional success also becomes a way to legitimize their presence in the public sphere. Even when they rise to positions of responsibility, their legitimacy is sometimes still questioned. “Sometimes, media executives would meet to discuss certain topics, but I wasn’t invited. Because it was still hard for them to see a woman at their level,” says Shna Faik.
« Staying and being stubborn at that point had only one outcome: death »
Shna Faiq, journalist
Unlike Shna Faik, Chawaran Mahmud still lives and works in Sulaymaniyah. Despite the threats, she refuses to give up her profession. “My determination and my sincere conviction that I am on the right path in my work give me the courage to carry on,” she says.
For Shna Faik, however, the situation has become untenable. In 2022, faced with escalating threats, she chose to leave Iraqi Kurdistan. “Staying and being stubborn at that point had only one outcome: death. A death that would only serve the regime’s objectives and become a source of fear and despair for other women journalists,” she says.
Now a refugee in Sweden, she continues her work with the Kurdish feminist magazine Jineoloji. Her commitment has taken on special significance since the assassination in Sulaymaniyah in October 2022 of Kurdish journalist Nagihan Akarsel, a member of the magazine’s editorial staff.
“For me, picking up Nagihan’s pen is both a sacred moral duty and a great honor, so that I can keep alive the voice of truth and women’s freedom,” concludes Shna Faik. Thousands of kilometers away from Iraqi Kurdistan, she continues the struggle that led to her exile: reporting despite threats and defending an independent press in a region where, for many, practicing journalism remains an act of resistance.