In late 2010 and early 2011, the Arab world experienced the culmination of decades of resistance, organizing, hope and anger into a cry for change and justice.

Across the Western Sahara, across North Africa to Egypt, from Palestine to Lebanon, from Saudi Arabia to Yemen, women, girls, men and boys responded to a call for action that had rang for decades without response. In Libya, that call was answered on February 17th, 2011, the 42nd year of Muammar Gaddafi’s rule. It was largely women who responded and had been responding. In the case of the Libyan uprising, it was mothers seeking justice.

In June 1996, 1,270 political prisoners were brought to the courtyard in the center of Abu Salim prison in Tripoli. Gunmen on the rooftops shot and killed all 1,270. The bodies were buried in a mass grave. Many families continued to leave supplies and food with the prison, unaware their sons had been murdered. Some  never received official notice. The massacre was only acknowledged years later, - and mothers of the martyrs refused to accept it in  silence. Instead, they single-handedly led the slow march towards revolution, gathering every Saturday to protest against the regime, calling for accountability for the atrocities committed against their sons. It was this sacred practice that broke the silence. The last protest would take place two days before the uprising began. In response, the regime arrested the families’ lawyer,  meeting protesters who called for his release with violence. This sealed the fate of the regime and sparked the uprising from the city of Benghazi.

At the time, I was a young Libyan based in Canada, stunned to see these movements break decades of silence. Undermining regimes that had ruled brutally with iron fists, undisturbed for decades, suddenly became possible through instantaneous information sharing that circumvented the cages between countries of the Arab World. We became a regional and international force. Inspired, I participated in my own way. The Gaddafi regime had tried to cloak the country in darkness, but tech-savvy activists and protesters were able to maintain connectivity, broadcasting their revolution to the world. From thousands of miles away, connecting the revolution to the world and the world to the revolution was how I could support these efforts. I launched a social media platform (ShababLibya) that built relationships with sources in Libya and then triangulated updates to validate information that was then shared globally. This effort grew to include over a dozen Libyans across the diaspora and key sources on the ground. The international media quickly took notice and our reporting became a 24-hour newsfeed. We also supported international journalists’ efforts to cover the events as they unfolded, and served as key context experts. Our efforts have been researched and documented in history books, we have been invited to speak at countless engagements; academic, political, media and government institutions about the Arab Spring in Libya, the role of women and youth, the country’s post-revolution hope and continued struggle for stability, for human rights, for democracy and the realization of all the hopes and dreams that Libyans had when they first took to the streets 14 years ago. Libya was, and still is, poorly represented or understood on the international stage. At the time, the world was finally listening to what the Libyan people, not Gaddafi or his regime, had to say. They were demands for justice, accountability and human rights that the regime tried violently to silence.

It is no surprise that women were part and parcel of the uprising in 2011. From organizing protests, reporting events as they unfolded using social media, providing medical aid to those injured, supporting the protracted armed struggle against the regime, raising funds, cooking meals and even sewing the country’s kingdom flag - banned for over four decades, it was reinstated as a symbol of the uprising and the rejection of the regime. However, as early as September 2011, the National Transitional Council (the government entity which led non-regime held areas of Libya), had already begun to exclude women from decision making and political power. The sole woman in  the 43 member transitional council: Minister for Women.

These barriers to women’s rights continued, with gender inequality in governance reinforcing itself across all levels of socially conservative Libya. The brief period after the fall of the Gaddafi regime until 2013 would become known as the honeymoon phase in the country’s post-uprising reality. It is described as euphoric and hopeful. It was violently interrupted by targeted assassinations of prominent civil society youth activists, journalists, lawyers, members of law enforcement. Since 2014, the spaces where Libyan women advocate for themselves and their communities, whether physical or virtual, are under attack. Women who speak out have faced smear campaigns, death threats and intimidation, gender-based slurs and violence, abductions, torture, and murder. The faces of Salwa Bugaighis, Fariha Berkawi, Entisar El Hassari are forever etched into Libyan history as women who were assassinated for being women human rights defenders, for urging Libyans to be active participants and authors of their own futures. No one has been held accountable for any of these murders, #JusticeForSalwa. Siham Sergiwa, a Libyan politician and women’s rights defender was abducted in 2019; almost 6 years later and her fate continues to be unknown. The United Nations Special Rapporteur on Violence against Women and Girls, in 2022, identified widespread, systematic and grave levels of violence faced by Libyan women and girls, including femicide alongside physical, economic, political and domestic violence in private and public spheres.

While February 17, 2011 marks a historic day in Libyan history, it was women’s activism that paved the way for revolution, peace, accountability and the call for human rights for all in Libya. Like the heartbeat of the nation, when women cannot be heard, the country is in peril. Women’s rights and their ability to realize these rights are an indicator of the wellbeing of the country. As is often the case, when half a population is empowered and allowed to thrive, society as a whole prospers. However, in the years since 2011, institutions have failed to hold people accountable and anti-gender equality campaigns, whether communicated through religious or cultural channels, continue to deny women their rights or agency, limiting their participation not only in governance but also in social and public spheres.

It is the women of Libya and their activism which are a mirror for the country’s progress, missteps and failures. Women-led and women’s rights organizations and advocacy groups continue to push institutions, society and their communities to ensure that women are included in all areas of rebuilding the country. This means they must be given the space, support and opportunities to meaningfully engage, to realize all their rights, to live in a society that is consistent with justice and the law, that promotes non-discrimination, protects its citizens, especially women and girls, from violence, and eliminates gender barriers, in order to enable women to be full and equal participants in all aspects of life in Libya.

Women’s activism in Libya faces a  lack of support,  intense scrutiny, precarity  of their safety and security of their activism, the high risk of facing violent backlash,  and despite all this, still fights to realize these goals for all women in Libya. Women have been detained, abducted and even killed for engaging in online and offline political activism. The status of women in Libya, not just as activists is challenging, as women face human rights abuses including domestic violence, forced marriage, sexual violence and online harassment. Though the risks are great and being a woman mobilizing in Libya is dangerous, these women activists continue to advocate and push to create spaces for solidarity, pushback and hope.