Salima Farhoud

It was just after sunset when I stepped onto the balcony. The air had cooled, and the call to prayer drifted through the streets of Baghdad, blending with the distant hum of traffic. I leaned against the railing, staring out at the city that always felt like a strange mix of comfort and struggle. I’ve seen both up close.

I’m 27 now, in my final year of law school, but sometimes it feels like I’ve lived a thousand lives. Today was one of those heavy days. I spent the afternoon helping my youngest sister, Mariam, with her math homework. She’s 12, smarter than I was at her age, but I can’t shake the fear that her life could change in an instant, like it did for so many girls I grew up with.

I think of Noor, my childhood friend. We used to walk to school together, laughing about our future plans. Then one day, she just disappeared. A few weeks later, I found out she had been married off to a man much older than her. She was only 15. The memory of her haunts me, especially when I see girls her age running in the streets, carefree. For now.

It’s frustrating to watch the same patterns repeat, to see outdated laws and traditions still holding us back. There’s talk of a new draft law that could make things worse for women—legalizing child marriage and stripping away rights for divorced women. I wonder how we got here, in a country that once promised progress and equality.

I often argue with my father about it. He’s a good man, progressive in many ways, but even he can’t fully grasp how deeply these issues run. He tells me I’m too impatient, that change takes time. But how much more time? How many more girls like Noor have to lose their futures in the name of tradition?

As the city lights flickered on, I stood there thinking about the future—my own, Mariam’s, and all the women in this city. It feels fragile, like it could break at any moment. But that’s why I’m determined to finish my degree. I have to fight, for Noor, for Mariam, for all of us.

I believe there’s a path forward, where our daughters won’t have to carry the same fears we do.