What is the point of a parliamentary seat for women if they are excluded from decision-making? What does participation mean if the doors close when policies are discussed? And can we really speak of political empowerment when women remain numbers, not voices, in a game ruled by men?

More than 22 years after the change — or the invasion, the occupation, or the fall of the former regime — and ahead of Iraq’s parliamentary elections scheduled for November 2025, women in Iraq still face fierce challenges.  

They take a step forward only to take several backwards again, especially in representation and political participation. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the years that have gone by — and those to come — are years of male dominance over politics and marginalisation of women. 

In the 2021 elections, 95 women won seats out of 946 candidates, representing 28.9 percent of parliament. Of these, 83 secured their seats through the quota system, which allocates 25 percent of seats to women, while only 12 won through popular votes — less than 4 percent of all seats. 

The tribal nature of Iraqi society plays a key role: southern provinces elect the fewest women. In Al-Muthanna, only two women were elected; in Sulaymaniyah, seven. 

At the provincial level, the situation is similar. Out of 76 women who won seats in provincial councils, only 17 did so without relying on the quota. 

Legislation and oversight 

Despite this notable presence — one that would carry weight in other countries — women’s legislative efforts have been modest. Most are stuck in parliamentary committees or awaiting a second reading. 

In a parliament riddled with crises, women’s attempts to pass laws affecting women — such as amendments to the Personal Status Law — faced fierce backlash. Deputy Speaker Mohsen Al-Mandalawi publicly rebuked MP Noor Nafe for objecting to the proposed amendment that stirred widespread controversy.  

Women MPs failed to prevent its passage. The bloc opposing it did not exceed 20 MPs — a result of either party restrictions that curb individual initiatives or women MPs adopting male-dominated, religious, sectarian, or tribal legislative attitudes. 

As for parliamentary questioning — a key oversight tool — no female MP has summoned a minister or official in the current term (2021–2025), reflecting the paralysis of the women’s oversight role. In five parliamentary terms, only MP Alia Nassif succeeded in dismissing a minister in 2016, backed by her bloc — a moved more by politics than public-interest. 

This weakness extends beyond legislation and oversight to decision-making itself. MP Hanan Al-Fatlawi revealed on TV that women were barred from attending meetings of the State Administration Coalition, which formed the government, because participants “use offensive language”.  

She added that no women were present in the Coordination Framework meetings that nominated the prime minister. The photos following these meetings confirm her statement: not a single woman is seen, reflecting a political culture that reserves decision-making for men. 

These realities reveal that women’s parliamentary performance is limited by structural barriers beyond their control: patriarchal party hierarchies, a male-dominated social order, and a parliament where legislation depends on consensus among male-led blocs. 

Parliament data show that women’s individual legislative initiatives remain minimal. Proposals are usually submitted under party umbrellas rather than as personal efforts, since an MP’s performance is measured by loyalty to their bloc rather than individual contribution. 

Still, amid these constraints, a faint light persists — one that could grow brighter if a more independent political environment and sustained social support emerged. 

Leadership in parliament and the state 

Reaching leadership roles within parliament is often seen as a sign of political empowerment and active participation. Yet the speaker and both deputies are men. The only woman to run for speaker, Maysoon Al-Damluji in 2009, failed — largely due to her secular background. 

Similarly, Hanan Al-Fatlawi’s symbolic candidacy for the presidency in 2014 gained no support, as the post is reserved for Kurds under political convention. Sarwa Abdulwahid’s 2018 candidacy also failed, as she came from an opposition Kurdish party outside the two ruling blocs. 

In the current parliament, women chair eight of 25 committees, mostly social or service-oriented — such as the Family and Human Rights Committees — while key ones like Finance, Foreign Affairs, Security, and Defence remain male-led. Women in those are merely members. This reflects the entrenched mentality of confining women to ‘soft’ sectors, while men dominate the core of political, economic, and security affairs. 

The same pattern extends across state institutions. Women hold only 17 percent of senior government positions over the past two decades — mostly non-sovereign roles. Only one woman has led a sovereign ministry: the current Minister of Finance, whose tenure has been consumed by managing US Treasury sanctions, budget planning, and salary disbursements — hardly a space for policymaking influence. 

Do women participate in decision-making? 

Political decision-making begins with voting and participation. In 2021, around 11 million women cast their ballots. Yet all 946 female candidates combined received fewer than two million votes. 

Women’s reluctance to vote for women reflects a deep crisis of trust rooted in a culture that deems them unfit for leadership beyond traditional roles. But before diagnosing this crisis, one must ask: do women truly have the right to choose freely? 

In Iraq, voting is largely a family affair — often tribal. Since men are seen as more politically aware, they decide whom the family votes for. Women rarely deviate from this, voting for the tribe’s, party’s, or sect’s candidate. 

In rural areas, where women are excluded from even basic household decisions, political agency is almost impossible. Only one percent of rural women reach university education. Thus, a woman’s vote there is often an extension of her husband’s or father’s. 

Cultural barriers reinforce this exclusion. Women remain viewed as politically absent, and many female candidates — especially from civil society or independent backgrounds — face smear campaigns during every election. This exclusion is not accidental. From the very beginning of post-2003 politics, women were sidelined. Paul Bremer, the US civil administrator, met seven Iraqi figures a week after the regime’s fall — all men. The subsequent Governing Council included only three women among 25 members. 

This shows that marginalisation was not just the doing of Islamist parties. Five of Bremer’s seven interlocutors were secular or civil leaders, proving that Iraq’s supposed ‘civil state’ is itself deeply patriarchal. 

Between quota and genuine empowerment 

The quota has proven effective in guaranteeing women’s representation and preventing their total exclusion. Yet it has also become a ceiling difficult to break. 

This stems from a stagnant political system and electoral laws that hinder fair competition. Opposition and civil parties have failed to build effective empowerment programmes for women, leaving women candidates without compelling platforms. The only path to parliament, therefore, remains through the same entrenched parties. 

The quota also serves ruling parties, which use women candidates as electoral leverage. Inside parliament, the female voice often mirrors the bloc’s stance, not individual conviction. 

While the quota secured women’s numerical presence, it did not grant them access to power or decision-making. True success lies in their ability to break traditional role divisions and champion meaningful legislation that improves women’s lives — and in fostering women-led initiatives within parties to challenge patriarchal leadership from within. 

Only then can women move from being ‘complementary figures’ to becoming active partners in shaping public policy. 

Will these elections be any different? 

In the upcoming 2025 elections, 7,876 candidates — 5,641 men and 2,235 women — are competing for seats. Women make up 28.3 percent of candidates, 3,406 fewer than men. Among them, 76 candidates (including 13 women) represent minority groups. 

A new electoral law passed in 2023 reshaped the system, affecting both the 2023 provincial elections and the upcoming parliamentary vote. Unlike 2021, which used multiple constituencies and individual seats, the revised law reinstated the Sainte-Laguë formula, favouring established parties with financial and political clout while reducing the chances of independents and new candidates. 

Once again, a call for boycott 

The November elections are already marked by widespread calls for boycott — led by the Sadrist movement and its leader Muqtada Al-Sadr. 

A new generation, too young to remember Saddam Hussein except on YouTube or to witness the civil war’s displacement, now approaches its first vote. Yet its choices are limited: most ‘new faces’ wear their fathers’ sectarian cloaks. 

How can these voters break the chain of power-sharing and sectarian division after the disillusionment of the Tishreen uprising? Even women candidates who presented themselves as feminist alternatives have ended up reproducing sectarian narratives — a reflection of the same political stagnation. 

This article is published in partnership with the Iraqi Network for Investigative Journalism (NIRIJ).