MANIFESTO: CLARISSA WARD

By Clarissa Ward

This is for the women living on the front lines of conflicts around the world. You may not see or hear from them much. Their voices are too often drowned out by the cacophony of war.

This is for the mother in Gaza who buried her two year old last week but must still summon the strength to find food and keep her remaining children alive.

The little girl in the refugee camp in Chad, too afraid to go to the bathroom at night because of the very real threat that she will be sexually assaulted.

This is for the Rohingya woman in Bangladesh, who survived rape and the murder of her husband, now saving every penny she can to buy a second-hand sewing machine with the hopes that it will improve her family’s life.

It’s for the Afghan 16-year-old girl, forced to leave school, now learning English on a radio in her home, while on the streets she has been erased from public life.

It’s for the Ukrainian woman, fighting back tears as she leaves her children with her mother so that she can go out and help defend her country.

It’s for the Russian grandmother, waving goodbye to her youngest son as he heads off on a bus of new recruits to a front line so deadly, it has been dubbed the meat grinder.

In the nearly 20 years I have been covering conflicts and crises around the world, I have seen first-hand, time and time again, how women are disproportionately affected by wars they almost never choose. It does not matter what side of the conflict they are on. Far too often, they pay the price for decisions and actions taken by men. Decisions they don’t have a say in.

According to a report from the UN Secretary General, “more than 600 million women and girls lived in conflict-affected countries in 2022.” That’s a 50 percent increase since 2017.

And it gets worse. Only six out of 18 peace agreements reached in 2022 included provisions relating to women. And of those, only one was signed by a local women’s organization, in South Sudan.

Despite so often being excluded from the conversation, I have seen women on the front lines show a resilience and resourcefulness that is humbling and frankly astonishing. So many refuse to be seen as victims. They don’t want pity. Empty promises and hollow platitudes are not going to feed their children.

So what can we do?

Firstly, we need to prioritize women’s voices and tell their stories when we talk about conflict. For far too long, war correspondence focused on military maneuvers and geopolitical jargon. Stories about the suffering of civilians were seen as sentimental. When I started this work, I was warned off of covering stories about refugees by a former employer who shall remain nameless. “They rate terribly and it all looks the same,” I was told. Eighteen years later, we are fortunately in a much better place. There are many more women doing the same work as I, and the stories of women are no longer seen as an afterthought. Storytelling is perhaps the most effective and impactful way of making the suffering of others real, of allowing people to feel connected to women a thousand miles away.

Secondly, we need to make women a central part of the conversation. I can’t tell you how many conferences I have attended with important people in powerful positions, where the impact of conflict on women, and their ability to play a meaningful role in resolving those conflicts, is not even seen as a footnote. When I bring it up or talk about the plight of women, I can see the discomfort in the room. I have been described on more than one occasion as “emotional”!

Thirdly, we need to involve women in peace-seeking initiatives. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the smart thing to do. According to UN Women, “Women’s participation in peace processes makes agreements more durable and sustainable,” which should come as no surprise given that women are often the backbone of their communities.

Lastly, we need to support and fund women’s organizations. Perhaps the best way to help women in conflict-affected countries is to give them the tools to help themselves, and to engage with and support that process.

I am a journalist, not an activist. It is not my place, nor my desire, to prescribe policy or issue demands. I can only tell you what I have seen with my own eyes: the countless women around the world who show unimaginable grace and strength every day, in the face of crushing violence and injustice. Their voices deserve to be heard.