Syria’s Recovery Is Being Led by Women

This month, I returned to Syria for the first time since the fall of Bashar al-Assad brought an end to years of devastating civil war. What I saw was a nation rebuilding itself from the rubble—brick by brick—to create a new, prosperous Syria for generations to come.

As I witnessed Oxfam’s programs in action and met communities recovering from nearly 14 years of conflict, repression, and unimaginable suffering, one thing became clear: women are at the heart of Syria’s recovery.

I visited Eastern Ghouta, a once lively community in rural Damascus - now shattered in the aftermath of war. The destruction was overwhelming. Fragments of family homes laid flat after countless bombings left them as nothing more than blocks of cement. Entire streets resembled ghost cities ground down by conflict. 

But among the devastation, I could feel the return to life. Small shops with humble shelves and modest storefronts stood alongside the buildings still bearing the scars of war. Families were repairing parts of their apartments, determined to move back despite the damage. It brought a sense of hope.  

It was Syrian women who carried the weight of survival and resilience throughout the war—and who are now on the frontlines of rebuilding. I heard stories of women who had lost their homes, their families, and years of their lives to violent conflict. Some are now the sole providers for their households after their husbands were kidnapped or killed, while many continue to endure the trauma of losing children and other loved ones.

Most of the women I spoke with had endured multiple displacements within Syria and across the region. Many fled Syria in the early years of the war, seeking refuge in neighboring countries, only to return before it was safe because of the difficult conditions they faced as refugees or violence in their host countries. As a mother of three myself, I cannot imagine what it was like to make such difficult choices while trying to provide for a family and keep one’s children safe.

Now, the women I spoke with are doing the hard work of recovery. Today, 16 million people in Syria need humanitarian assistance to carry on with their daily lives, and almost 90 percent of the population lives below the poverty line. These women, and countless others, are taking charge of rebuilding their lives—not only for their own futures, but for the futures of their families.

I was invited into the home of Hanadi*, a participant in an Oxfam-supported farmers’ field school that provides women in the community with training in animal and crop care, while empowering them to share knowledge and resources as they work to support their families. The field school’s main program teaches women the best techniques to care for dairy cows so they can sell milk in community markets. Classes focus on animal health, milk production and breeding so they can scale up production. These efforts have had visible impact in their homes — men traditionally handled the family’s income before the program, but now, women are leading their family farms and increasing their household income. 

After completing the program, participants become instructors themselves, leading classes for new groups of women in their communities. Over the past year and a half, the field school has established 30 groups across Syria, reaching more than 100 women and their families. The income they now earn has enabled them to provide more for their households—putting food on the table, purchasing essential goods, and paying their children’s school fees. For many, it has eased the painful trade-off between meeting their families’ immediate needs and investing in their children’s futures.

What I saw and heard was less tangible than income, but no less powerful: a renewed sense of confidence, joy, pride, purpose, and dignity. The women spoke with delight about the visible changes their work had brought to their homes. But the field school offered more than a way to earn money; it had become a place of connection and solidarity. They were no longer simply survivors, but neighbors and sisters to one another—celebrating and carrying one another through grief. What unites them is the determination to stand on their feet again, even if it means starting from scratch, and the excitement to take on new roles in their lives.  

I met a young widow named Reem*, whose husband was killed in the war. Unable to afford the cost of supporting her and her two young children, her parents had little choice but to place the children in the care of other relatives. Having already lost so much, Reem found the separation from her children almost unbearable. She recalled feeling profoundly alone, with few people to turn to or confide in.

The farmers’ field school became Reem’s lifeline. What she valued most was not only the opportunity to learn new skills, but the sense of agency and belonging it gave her. “I became stronger because I realized I can provide for myself,” she told me. “And because of the people I met here. These are people I can rely on and talk to. I feel I’m growing stronger day by day.” Through the school, Reem found not only confidence and hope, but a community she could depend on.

Despite all they have accomplished, women continue to face formidable barriers as farmers and entrepreneurs. Farah*, one of the group’s leaders, explained that they sell their products through milk collectives that often provide little meaningful support. Middlemen purchase their goods at unfairly low prices, leaving the women with only a fraction of the profits their work should command. At the same time, they shoulder unbelievable responsibility—as mothers, wives, and now economic providers—while wider regional instability drives up the cost of fuel, food, and fertilizer.

Yet despite all they have endured, these women spoke to me of a future they still believed in. They are working together to bargain collectively within the milk cooperatives and asserting their rights as business leaders. One day, they hope to establish a farmers’ union that can secure fairer prices and stronger protections. They also continue to find joy in the rhythms of daily life. Their smiles, laughter, and energy radiated through the stories they shared. I felt their strength in every word and gesture.

These women—and millions like them—are playing a vital role in Syria’s postwar healing and recovery. As I traveled throughout the country, it became abundantly clear that to invest in women is to invest in Syria’s future. 

*Names have been changed for safety reasons.