From Displacement to Defiance: The Entanglement of Memory and Resistance in Syria

by Abdur Raheem Desai

A black and white photograph of an older Syrian woman presents a striking image of a figure standing before a textured stone wall, dressed in a long floral-patterned garment and a kuffiyeh that obscures most of their face. The subject holds a pistol in one hand, raised slightly, while the other grips a larger firearm, possibly a shotgun or rifle. The composition places emphasis on the contrast between the traditional attire and the presence of modern weaponry, creating a visual tension that evokes themes of resistance and defiance. This image invites interpretation not simply as a portrait but as a statement on conflict, and historical continuity. The rough stone wall in the background enhances the starkness of the scene, grounding the subject in a setting that appears weathered and war-torn. Rather than portraying violence directly, the photograph operates through suggestion: placing its subject in a liminal space between tradition and armed struggle, personal resilience and broader political realities.

In 2013, a striking image of Um Ahmad, a 72-year-old woman from Daraa, Syria, appeared in Time magazine. Wrapped in a keffiyeh and gripping a gun, she stood as an unexpected symbol of resistance. As a mother of three, she was forced to flee from southern Syria to Aleppo as the revolution against Assad intensified. But rather than remain a bystander, she took up arms, joining a unit of women fighters within the Free Syrian Army (FSA), the opposition force leading the uprising. This image highlights the space Syrian women occupied in the revolution, challenging both the regime and stereotypes about Middle Eastern women.

This image of Um Ahmad was arguably instrumentalized by western media platforms; the rupture of expectations a veiled woman holding a gun produces for a western audience would be useful for two reasons: to evoke a sense of surprise and to frame her participation as a novelty. This framing ignores the long history of Middle Eastern women in armed resistance, such as Palestinian revolutionary Leila Khaled. This selective framing is evident in how Time and others have largely ignored Palestinian women in the ongoing genocide in Gaza. Acknowledging this instrumental use of this image by the West shouldn’t, however, take away from it representing a memory of a woman’s participation and sacrifice in revolution. Rather than allowing the Western gaze to dictate its meaning, this awareness should serve as caution against perpetuating the same framing in our own interpretations. 

Alongside the image, some words of Um Ahmad were quoted. She said: “My house in Daraa was destroyed by 2 bombs…I moved to Aleppo with my family, I chose to pick up a weapon and fight the regime.” Her words reveal that her transformation was not just about resisting the regime but about redefining herself. Revolution, in this sense, extends beyond the external structures of governance and military struggle; it unfolds at the level of the psyche. Both her words and the image show this shift; she is no longer just displaced but an armed fighter who has chosen resistance. Um Ahmad stands firmly, gripping a pistol in one hand and a larger firearm in the other. She is not portrayed as a grieving mother or a helpless victim but as an active participant in the revolution. The phrase “I chose to pick up a weapon” signals a deliberate act of self-reconstruction, a reimagining of her role in the face of violence.

Memory also plays a central role in her transformation. The destruction of Um Ahmad’s home in Daraa is not just a cause for her resistance but a continuous reminder of why she must fight. Her words indicate that her act of resistance is not merely reactionary but sustained by the memory of loss and displacement. Memory here is not passive but an active force driving her resistance. Instead of portraying her decision as an immediate response to trauma, the memory of her destroyed home becomes a recurring presence that reinforces her commitment to the revolution. In this sense, memory is not just something she looks back on; it is something she carries with her, continuously informing her identity, actions, and political subjectivity.

Sandra Hale’s concept of politicizing memory seems relevant here. She develops this idea in the context of Sudanese and Eritrean women fighters, touching on how they engaged their own gendered memories of violence in stories about armed resistance and civil war (2012). For them, the past did not remain static; memory was used to structure the political and social realities of the present. Hale shows how memory can function as a process in which personal and collective experiences of violence are not merely remembered but repurposed as instruments of resistance.

Um Ahmad also politicizes the memory of her destroyed home in repositioning herself vis-à-vis society, transforming herself from a mother to an armed revolutionary. By framing her decision to fight as a direct response to the bombing, she links personal loss to collective struggle, making memory an active force in shaping revolutionary consciousness. In this way, her individual transformation mirrors a broader pattern seen in revolutionary movements, where women’s participation is often catalyzed by personal experiences of war and displacement. Her memory, then, is not just a record of past trauma; it is a political tool, one that sustains her role in the fight and challenges the very structures that sought to render her powerless.

Abdur Raheem Desai is a 4th year student majoring in Philosophy, and Ethics, Society, and Law at the University of Toronto. His research interests include phenomenology and mystical experience, Islamic philosophical theology, and contemporary Muslim issues.