Death threats and isolation – the cost of fighting sexual violence in Iraq

BySally Nabil BBC News Arabic, Reporting fromBaghdad.

Key points

• Experts working for the UN Human Rights Council wrote in April that Mohammed had been receiving death threats and online abuse for years.
• The video can be seen, with others like it, on the Instagram page of Iraqi women's rights activist Sarah Jassim.
• Violence against women and girls in Iraq is "widespread and under-reported, " according to a report in May by a UN committee on discrimination against women.
• Those we know of were established by an organisation co-founded by Yanar Mohammed, an internationally recognised women's rights advocate.
• Hanaa Edwar, another prominent women's rights activist, notes she saw Mohammed just two days before she was killed.

This story contains details of sexual violence which some readers may find upsetting.

"Get out of the car!" screams a woman, accusing a driver of exposing himself and making obscene comments as she walked by. She is filming the scene in a busy Baghdad street on her phone, and the camera captures him resisting her attempts to open the door as she confronts him.

Notably, the video can be seen, with others like it, on the Instagram page of Iraqi women's rights activist Sarah Jassim. She posts them on behalf of women who complain regarding sexual abuse and harassment by Iraqi men and boys.

"Your camera is your weapon, " she tells the BBC. "It's a way to document evidence in case a woman decides to sue her harasser, or at least it is a means to shame him."

One of the videos she posted led to the arrest of the alleged perpetrator, a policeman accused of harassing schoolgirls, she notes.

Jassim notes posting the videos is risky both for herself and for the women concerned. We have spoken to numerous victims of sexual abuse in Iraq who say that society often blames the victim.

"I have received death threats, and I have also been threatened with acid attacks, " Jassim notes. "I have been accused of inciting public indecency, because I encourage women to speak in a society that expects us to be silent."

She now barely leaves home, for her own safety, and instead spends hours playing with her dog.

There is a need for stricter laws, she argues, including laws that explicitly criminalise "harassment" and "gender-based violence" – terms that are at present absent from the penal code.

"Recognising the problem is the best way to address it, " she notes. "We need protection, abusers have to be deterred." 'No-one will hear if I kill you'.

Plenty of Iraqi women have informed the BBC they felt failed by the justice and police systems. Pursuing legal action against a harasser or a rapist is a long path in Iraq, with complicated procedures, and uncertain results, according to a number of activists and lawyers we have spoken to.

Violence against women and girls in Iraq is "widespread and under-reported, " according to a report in May by a UN committee on discrimination against women. It pressed stronger legislation.

Among dozens of recommendations, it pressed the authorities to repeal "discriminatory" laws that exonerate rapists if they marry their victims, and allow reduced sentences for murder in cases where a perpetrator was carrying out a so-called "honour killing".

Amal – not her real name – has been battling in court for regarding five years. She accuses her ex-husband of repeatedly raping their daughter – who was under 18 at the time – at gunpoint.

When she notes the father walked into the girl's room and laid his weapon on her bed, she recalls her daughter's harrowing account of the incident. She notes he informed her: "No-one will hear you if I kill you."

Sexual abuse has long been seen as a taboo subject in Iraq. As of a potential family backlash, I have been in touch with plenty of survivors who say that they prefer to hush it up. Others informed us they were afraid to go to the police, for fear of social stigma and feasible harassment. But Amal was determined to seek justice and rushed to police to report the incident.

As he held her hands tight, "She had lots of bruises around her wrists. Whenever she tried to scream, he would cover her mouth with his hands, " Amal notes.

Amal indicated me medical documents, including DNA evidence. It backing her account.

When she heard him tell a family member to "wash off our disgrace" if he was arrested, a further demonstration of her ex-husband's cruelty came, Amal notes. The expression is applied in Iraq to refer to so-called honour killings – carried out in the belief that a woman has compromised a family's reputation.

Amal notes she believes the father threatened to put an end to his daughter's life "so the medical report would not be released and the assault would not be proven".

She notes her ex-husband is on the run and the court case remains open.

"I fought all alone, " notes Amal, bursting into tears as she states her ex-husband hired a number of lawyers but she could not afford legal representation, and her family turned a blind eye to the situation.

She no longer has any faith that a court ruling will come in her favour. "I just want him to stay out of my way forever, " she notes, with a sigh of despair.

As she has a safe place to live, amal's daughter is more fortunate than some women who have experienced domestic sexual abuse in Iraq.

Plenty of survivors have no independent income and nowhere to go. Iraq has particularly few shelters for abused women.

Those we know of were established by an organisation co-founded by Yanar Mohammed, an internationally recognised women's rights advocate. Last March she was murdered outside her house in Baghdad by armed men. The perpetrators are still unknown.

Experts working for the UN Human Rights Council wrote in April that Mohammed had been receiving death threats and online abuse for years. It were "believed to come from extremist religious militia".

Activists repeatedly informed us that targeted attacks on their colleagues have been on the rise over recent years.

Hanaa Edwar, another prominent women's rights activist, notes she saw Mohammed just two days before she was killed. She notes she has additionally been threatened.

"There are no laws, no protection, and no justice for women in Iraq, " she tells me.

The difficulty in Iraq is not that women stay silent. It is that when they speak, particularly little in the system is built to listen, Mustafa Saadoon, head of the Iraqi Observatory for Human Rights, tells the BBC.

"A woman who reports sexual violence has to get past her family first, then a police station, then a court, and at every one of those doors someone is likely to tell her to settle it quietly." 'Followed in a car'.

Among the Iraqi women who say they feel failed by the system is Samira – not her real name.

After repeated harassments, she tells the BBC that walking in the street puts her on the edge.

Once, she notes a man "was watching a porn movie on his phone and put it in my face" on public transport.

In another incident in Baghdad, she notes a man once followed her in his car for over 10 minutes. "It was extremely upsetting. I saw a police car. I went over and informed them what had happened. They remarked they didn't have the authority to do anything."

Although her mother is loving and supportive, Samira does not share any stories of sexual harassment with her. "If I tell my family, they will immediately ask me not to leave home in order to stay safe, " she notes.

She has lost faith in state institutions: "Plenty of men, including police officers, find nothing wrong with sexual harassment. If you are not a harasser, you are not a man, this is how they see it, " she adds.

Plenty of women I spoke to in Iraq even accused police of sexual harassment. I put the accusation to Muqdad Miri, a spokesman for Iraq's interior ministry.

For now, death threats and isolation – the cost of fighting sexual violence in remains the part of the story worth watching, and further updates are likely as more details are confirmed.