After a day's work in an Iraqi public sector job, Azhar offers legal support to women who are victims of domestic abuse, something she knows well, given her experience with a brutal husband.
After she was forced into marriage by family pressure, Azhar, 56, battled in court for about a decade to divorce the man who would beat her up.
“I believed I was going to die,” she said, recalling one attack and showing pictures of purple bruises on her arms and legs. “That was the moment when I decided to break my chains.”
She eventually won her freedom and the ordeal prompted her to study law.
“I felt I was weak in the face of the justice system,” recalled Azhar, who heads an NGO that offers legal support to victims of violence and is part of the Iraqi Women's Network coalition.
“I help any woman who is a victim of violence or in need of legal aid, so that these women become aware of their rights and can defend themselves,” she said.
From marriages involving minors to economic coercion, feminists and lawyers struggle to defend the rights of women in the overwhelmingly patriarchal country.
They cite regressive laws and the indifference of authorities as key obstacles.
In a country of 40 million, about 17,000 complaints of domestic violence were registered in 2021 by the Interior Ministry's family protection unit, said media official Gen Saad Maan.
'Victims pay the price'
The marriage of minors is on the rise in Iraq, according to a government survey. For females under 18, it jumped to 25.5 per cent last year, up from 21.7 per cent in 2011.
Azhar, who did not want her surname to be published for security reasons, was about 20 when she first got married. But she was soon widowed and forced again into marriage seven years later.
She eventually left her abusive second husband with her eight children and filed for divorce.
The first judge knew the man and rejected the request, despite three medical certificates proving her injuries, she said.
“'I will not break up families on the basis of certificates'," she recalled the judge telling her.
“'So what if a man beats his wife?'," she quoted him as saying.
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Zaha Hadid portrait by Miramar in Amman, Jordan. Amy McConaghy / The National -
Miramar in her studio in Jabal Amman. Amy McConaghy / The National -
Let your eyes be cast on the mountain tops,” painted by Miramar, in Amman, Jordan. Amy McConaghy / The National -
Miramar in her studio in Jabal Amman. Amy McConaghy / The National -
Miramar in her studio in Jabal Amman. Amy McConaghy / The National
In cases of domestic abuse, judges often push for “reconciliation”, said the head of the family protection unit, Brig Ali Mohamed.
But “it is the victim who pays the price,” said Hanaa Edwar who heads the Al Amal organisation and has worked for 50 years as a rights defender.
“The justice system's considerations for affairs involving women is much weaker than the machismo that dominates the minds of judges.”
Iraq has no specific law dealing with violence against women, and the 1969 penal code contains an article that allows rapists to escape punishment if they agree to marry their victims.
Rights groups are seeking parliament's endorsement of a draft law on domestic abuse, but it has been blocked by Islamist parties since 2010.
A key provision of the bill is the creation of shelters for victims of domestic violence, said lawyer Marwa Eleoui.
'Leaving a prison'
Mobilising public opinion is often the only way to make headway and score the smallest of victories in Iraq, as in the case of Mariam, 16.
The teenager was disfigured by a man who broke into her home and sprayed her with acid, after her family spurned his offer of marriage, media quoted her parents as saying.
Mariam's story drew sympathy nationwide when it was reported by Iraqi media in December, seven months after the acid attack. Authorities say two people have been arrested over the assault.
“If it weren't for media pressure, Mariam's case would have taken two years before it went to court,” said Ms Eleoui.
In the northern province of Kirkuk, Lina was among the young women for whom the Al Amal organisation became a critical lifeline.
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Iraqi women and girl cyclists gather for a race near the war-damaged Great Mosque of Al Nuri, in the city of Mosul, northern Iraq, on April 12. Reuters -
The all-female event featured 35 riders, aged between 15 to 30, from all over Nineveh province. EPA -
Cyclists enjoy a light-hearted moment at the event organised by the Iraqi Ministry of Youth and Sports and Italian non-government organisation UPP. EPA -
Iraqi female cyclists and their coach pose for a selfie after taking part in the first all-female Mosul cycle race. All participants received medals. EPA -
Cyclists prepare to start in the first all-female Mosul cycle race. The event was intended to help change attitudes in conservative Iraqi society about women and girls riding bicycles. EPA -
Female cyclists walk towards the starting line, past a building destroyed in fighting with ISIS during its occupation of Mosul between 2014 and 2017. The race was also intended to draw attention to the need for more reconstruction efforts. EPA -
Cyclists gather for the first all-female Mosul race near the Great Mosque of Al Nuri. The Mosul landmark was damaged during the occupation by ISIS. EPA -
The war-damaged Great Mosque of Al Nuri, behind Iraqi female cyclists waiting to start their race. The old parts of the city were the scene of fierce fighting to drive out ISIS in 2017. EPA -
Cyclists ride to join fellow competitors and take part in the first all-female Mosul cycle race. EPA
At only 13 years of age, she was married off against her will to a man she said was violent.
“I was 25 when I told myself I'd had enough,” she said. “He would beat me up in a way I cannot describe.”
When she complained, her husband – and her father – tried to obtain a certificate from a doctor saying she was mentally unstable, eager to avoid a social scandal.
“The doctor saw the bruises and put me in contact with the association,” said Lina, who uses a pseudonym, fearing for her safety.
Now she works with Al Amal and makes house calls to tell women about their rights.
“Leaving the courtroom after I got my divorce was like leaving a prison,” she said.
