Presented at the Inauguration Ceremony of Zainab Khan Institute, Koy Sanjaq, Kurdistan Region, May 17, 2025

Inspired by Virginia Woolf's essay “A Room of One’s Own”, I have titled this speech “A Home of One’s Own: The Hidden History of Kurdish Women.” We might wonder: why is Virginia Woolf being evoked here at the inauguration ceremony of the Zainab Khan Institute in Koy Sanjaq?

For one reason, Zainab Khan (1900-1963) – Kurdish poet, writer, activist, and older sister of great poet Dildar – was a contemporary of Woolf (1882-1941). Woolf quickly gained recognition among British intellectuals, and her voice resonated across Europe. Our Zainab Khan was no less talented than Woolf, yet did not have as fortuitous an environment, geography, or conditions to publish and grow famous during her lifetime.

Shakespeare’s imaginary sister

In “A Room of One’s Own,” Woolf explores British history and reflects upon the plight of women in society during the 15th and 16th centuries, raising concerns about discrimination in a male-dominated society, including the denial of education of girls, violence against women, the need for freedom of expression, and the right to human dignity and equality.

Are women essentially inferior to men, as society portrays them? Or are there material reasons why women have been marginalized in history? In answering these questions, I plan to relate today’s theme to Shakespeare’s imaginary sister, as portrayed by Woolf in her famous essay.

If Shakespeare had had a sister with the same talent, ambitions, and skills, could she have grown as famous as her theoretical brother? The answer is clearly no. For the sister would have been forced to marry at an early age, and if she refused, would have been cast out by the father. In this hypothetical scenario, Shakespeare‘s imaginary sister, equipped with knowledge in music, art and theater, would have run away from home and ensconced herself in London, where she could make a name for herself. But within the male-dominated culture, everyone would have made fun of her and thought her crazy. A man would have invariably approached her in the name of friendship, and she would have confided in him, becoming pregnant and dying by suicide. This symbolic self-murder would be no stretch; it would painfully mirror what occurs regularly in my homeland.

Shunned in her lifetime

Let us now return to the beginning of the 20th century in Koy Sanjaq. Zainab Khan, the older sister of the poet Dildar, was not imaginary; she was real, an educated poet, activist, and writer, who was able to go to school in Baghdad as a child. She pursued her education at a madrassa (religious school) when she returned to Koy Sanjaq and became fluent in Persian, Arabic, Hebrew, and Turkish. Yet history shunned her. Unlike her brother Dildar, Khan remained unrecognized for nearly a century – why?

Our grandmothers – and perhaps even our mothers – lived in Koy Sanjaq during Khan’s lifetime. My mother was born in 1930 in a context that did not allow her to develop her intellectual potential. She was denied education; her father, at the age of 12, gave her away as a bride to an old man, his friend. Her suffering began from that moment on, and would continue throughout her life.

At the start of the 20th century, Koy Sanjaq was a religiously plural society with a large caravanserai (inn for travelers) that served as hub of trade and the exchange of ideas and knowledge. The first school, Rushdiya, was also established by Malay Gawra (1876-1943), who sent his own daughter to learn alongside boys. Socially, however, it was marked by oppression and harsh patriarchal control, with structural discrimination and injustice against women. Girls were not allowed to attend school; from childhood, they were confined to domestic service and family duties, married off at a young age, and denied any prospects. Conceived as the nation’s uterus, their main tasks were reproduction and service. If they resisted, they were suppressed.

In that era – although Kurdish women were portrayed in the collective imagination as great warriors and political figures, and men sang songs praising their beauty, bodies, and attire – in reality, they were confined to the private domestic sphere and deprived of real opportunities for progress. Traditionally, they were denied interaction in the public cultural, political, and economic arena. In other words, they could not integrate with the outside world, develop and exchange ideas, experiences, and knowledge, or freely choose their partners, lifestyles, and economic autonomy. Society expected women to give birth to children, not to produce knowledge or write books. Therefore, the creative works of Zainab Khan were perceived as alien, and her role was not recognized.

In such an environment, women were forgotten and became invisible. The names of notable women in Kurdish cultural and literary fields have been scarce. Moreover, historians – again, men – viewed women as secondary, inferior, and weak, and did not believe they could produce intellectual and scientific knowledge, record and conceptualize their own experiences as women, or explore the unique characteristics of womanhood in society. Female writers were scant; to my knowledge, Mastura Kurdistani and Zainab Khan are the only two notable examples. Though women fought alongside men for their homeland, that homeland has often excluded them. History has rendered them invisible, as if outside time itself.

After the division of Kurdistan after World War I, Kurdish men and women alike faced political oppression from the occupying states. Khan was active in this context and was a founding member of Hiwa and Khayobun organizations, but remained invisible compared to her brother and other activists at the time. Women simply faced new layers of oppression, with state discrimination and structural inequality adding to the longstanding oppression within their communities and families. Political activism, in other words, did not alter their social status, as they were excluded from decision-making positions. If they were perceived as stepping outside social norms and customary boundaries, they were cast out, stigmatized, dishonored, or even killed.

Changing our social condition

Today, a century later, Khan is resurgent. We are fortunate that the efforts of some women and men today have brought us together to inaugurate the Zainab Khan Institute in Koy Sanjaq. This initiative will not only honor the name of that transformational woman in literature and knowledge, but also serve as a beacon for educating future generations.

Liberation is one thing, but practicing that freedom as a fundamental right is another. Some of us may have liberated ourselves, but do we fully practice that freedom as we should? Are those men who claim to have freed themselves from the patriarchal code proactively dismantling discriminatory barriers to advance women? How many organizations, university forums, and media channels here in Kurdistan are committed to equality and women’s empowerment? Over 95% of these platforms are male-dominated – led by men, serving men, amplifying voices the exclude or marginalize women.

When challenged, these men argue that women are incapable, or that there are no strong female figures. This is the joke of the century in this country. Is it true that there are no strong women in the field of culture, art, poetry, theater, music, or any other fields anywhere in the Kurdistan Region? The answer to these questions is that society remains closed-minded, trapped in ignorance, and under the thumb of patriarchy and discrimination, which controls our minds, governs us, and confines our public spaces, squares, cities, and neighborhoods. Despite this cruel dominance, men still appear unhappy, even upset when we talk about women’s rights and gender equality, claiming that women seek to dominate men. This is a bitter truth. And, as George Orwell said, until that truth is denied, it becomes more painful, and violence against women is trivialized as a normal practice with impunity.

We are currently living in that state on a superficial level; much seems to have changed, but the collective mentality of society has, in reality, progressed very little, largely due to conservative and radical Islamist ideologies.

I hope that the Zainab Khan Institute will create new conditions and lead to greater awareness and a new consciousness. It is the material reality that creates consciousness, not the opposite. We need, in other words, to change our social condition. This home will fill that gap and, in collaboration with other organizations, it can work to transform the current status quo, as unfair as it is.

A man’s agora

When I was a teenage girl here in Koy Sanjaq, I yearned to read and write, but these dreams were not supported by my community or family. I felt alienated, as though none of them could accept me as I was. Instead, they wanted me to be the girl that society wanted. I remember at that age, I had a small dream, which was to go on a walk alone to the square of Haji Qadri Koyee, to stand beside the statue of the great poet, smile, and take a photo. But that dream could never come true, because the city square was always dominated by men; there was no place for a young rebellious girl there. That square was a man’s agora; if a woman walked by and stood by the statue to take a picture, hundreds of eyes would be on her, scanning her as a sexual object and raping her with their gazes. For them, this display of freedom meant licentiousness. But I ask: is there a significant difference today compared to then?

In response, I exhort this truth: Whenever a woman stands up and demands her rights and equality, she is doing so not only for herself, but for all women. Today, Zainab Khan speaks for all of us, calling out and telling us, in her words: 

This generation, or the next,

Carries forward women’s rights

So, the wonderful daughters of Koy Sanjaq

Will all follow the path you’ve set

Khan has laid a foundation of hope, inspiration, and perseverance for today’s women, and this institute strives to realize those goals, giving importance to women’s voices and empowerment. It will defy the cultural and academic institutions that set hundreds of pre-conditions before allowing women to showcase their achievements, institutions that, while doing lip-service to equal opportunity for women, find a pretext to undermine them, confining them to their traditionally-fixed roles as mothers, caregivers, and nurturers.

I am confident that my friend Mahabad Azad, who established this institute, is leading women out of invisibility into light and recognition – a path that clears the way for girls and women to move forward and step into the present and future with clarity and confidence. But this cannot be done by women alone; men and women must work together and cross the boundaries of one single city or town, of party affiliation, and of regionalism to become a beacon for everyone in this land. This must become a home for everyone and, moreover, must reach out to embrace international cooperation. My friend and colleague, Rado Butom, the Head of the EU Liaison Office in Erbil, who is here with us today, is bringing international support to this pioneering effort.

In closing, I would like to say that whatever we do, if it does not strengthen human relationships and empower us as humans, it is meaningless. The mission of this institute is to foster harmony among all people – women and men alike – and to help us reconnect with life after the traumas that this region has endured.

Nazand Begikhani an accomplished academic, poet, and lecturer, has earned acclaim on the international literary stage, securing prestigious honors such as the Emma Humphrey's Memorial Prize and the French Prize of Feminist Poetry of Simone Landry.