Crafting independence

The war brought harsh challenges for Syrian women. Forced to turn to creative solutions to secure their livelihoods, they have sought to maintain both financial stability and social connection while also healing psychologically. The backdrop to their struggles is often the loss of their husbands—leaving them without a provider—or the country's dire economic situation.

Each woman has a unique story that deserves to be told. What these stories all have in common are the consequences of the war—displacement and exile.

One of these stories is that of Kholoud Hanidi, an activist working across civil society and culture. She has turned an old Arabic building in the southern Syrian city of Suwayda into her workshop. In 2017, she founded the project Fajjatul Khurq (فجّة خُرق) to support the large number of people fleeing from other parts of Syria to the city.

Speaking to Qantara, she explains: "I wanted to create a form of support that goes beyond the traditional concept of aid for displaced families. At the same time, I wanted to revive an old handicraft tradition from the south known as Fajjatul Khurq. The result is a project that combines preservation of our cultural heritage and financial empowerment of displaced people."

Fajjatul Khurq is a traditional craft in which leftover scraps of all kinds of fabric are recycled and turned into colourful rugs. In Kholoud's workshops, modern designs are developed for various household accessories. 

Since its foundation, the project has employed displaced and local women while reviving an almost-forgotten craft. 

Kholoud, who holds a master's degree in psychology, explains: "Our courses focus on professional empowerment. In addition, we offer workshops on topics such as mental health, political rights, parenting and everyday skills. The goal is to strengthen women’s awareness of their rights and their position in society. The women working in the workshop carry significant responsibility—most of them are the sole providers for their families. On top of that, they face the social challenges that women in our societies already encounter, especially those who live alone."

Visitors to the Fajjatul Khurq workshops experience solidarity among the women and their desire to confide in one another. Kholoud believes that "the success of a project depends on the quality of relationships between the participants," as the women also support each other in their work. 

A local project goes global

Ola Sheikh Hassan from Damascus tells Qantara how the idea for her project, Sama Handmade, came about: "It all started in 2014, when we faced the challenge of finding blankets for refugees. Back then, my colleagues and I suggested to an aid centre in Damascus that instead of buying prefabricated blankets, we should buy wool and make the blankets ourselves."

That idea laid the foundation for the project. The next step was for Ola and her colleagues to set up women's groups specialising in crochet and embroidery. They started by making bags and cushions inspired by the mosaic art from Deir ez-Zor, Idlib and Damascus. An old craft from southern Syria was also revived: needle crochet. 

In the last ten years, around 185 women have taken part in the project. Most of them are supporting their families alone. Some of them emigrated and went on to set up their own small businesses abroad. Meanwhile, the project has become profitable and grown in popularity through social media. 

Purchasing power in Syria is very weak, so Ola and her partners found ways to sell their products abroad. Today, for example, they have a warehouse and a sales outlet in Germany. "Participation in the project helps women achieve financial and psychological independence. Some participants have even returned to education after a long break as a result," adds Ola. 

Psychological and material support

After she was forced to leave her home in Eastern Ghouta and displaced to Idlib in 2018, Sanaa Natfaji felt like she had lost everything: "After five years of siege and bombings, we were in a state of intense misery and fear. The hardest part was experiencing expulsion from our homes while the world watched and did nothing but accuse us of terrorism. In Idlib, however, we were welcomed with love, which gave us hope. The Women's Empowerment Centre was our first refuge."

At the centre, Sanaa received financial and social support and was able to choose from various types of further training. She later taught courses there herself and started the Sabaja al-Funun (Art Women) project with her partners. For Sanaa, the name reflects the identity and spirit of the team. 

"I taught women handicraft techniques such as recycling, embroidery, wool work, wax work as well as crafting techniques and jewellery. During these seven years of practical training, we became so good that we decided to set up a team to make and sell the products," Sanaa says.  

The team is made up of seven women aged between 25 and 65, some of whom are from Idlib, while others came to the city as refugees. Some of them are the mothers of murdered people, detainees in the prisons of the former regime, or men who disappeared during the war. "One of the participants lost 13 family members in an air raid. The project was a way to support them psychologically and financially," Sanaa recalls.  

After the fall of the regime, Sanaa was able to return to Damascus herself. She is optimistic about the future of the project. From her point of view, it is still in its infancy, but she hopes it will "continue to grow and perhaps open a shop in Damascus in the future." 

Small steps

"Mama Samira", as she is known on social media, lost her home in the Yarmouk refugee camp in Damascus during the war. Samira, a Palestinian with Syrian citizenship, later found a new home in Bab Sharqi, a neighbourhood of Damascus, where she decided to open a restaurant selling homemade meals. 

"My project is still in its infancy. I started it in 2022 after I was displaced and lost both my house and my job in retail. I urgently needed to find a new job, even if it meant starting from scratch. So, I started cooking and selling food from home," says Samira. 

On social media, Samira's project seems bigger than it actually is. "I cook alone or with the help of a few friends when it's busy," she says. "I also work with someone who delivers the meals. My goal is for this small project to become a large restaurant in Damascus."

Although she has made a new home for herself, Samira still remembers her house in Yarmouk and knows the painful feeling of losing a roof over your head. For this reason, she regularly distributes meals to those in need—especially those who have lost their homes. 

Like so many other women, Samira's story is one of perseverance, of not giving up in the face of the sustained effects of war. 

What Samira and many other women have in common are these stories of perseverance, of not giving up in the face of the ongoing effects of war. "Most women experience similar things. I listened to them; there were stories of missing partners and sons, of flight and displacement," Ola says. 

These projects have become spaces of hope and mutual support. Everyone dreams of a more stable future, hoping that flight and displacement are merely steps on the road to a better life. 

This text is an edited translation of the Arabic original.