I have been wanting to write about feminism and Palestine since the beginning of the genocidal war in Gaza. However, and as words lost their meanings over the past two years, my constant thought was that maybe there is no point. There is nothing that Palestinians themselves have not said already in thousands of ways and languages and through even having to become social media influencers to have a reach and report on their own killing. Also, one does not need to necessarily be a feminist to stand in the face of the horror committed by the vile killing machine that is the Zionist entity since October 2023.
The reason why I feel it is important to write about feminism and Palestine is that on one hand, very little feminist writings since the genocidal war have aimed to reflect upon feminism’s own position vis-a-vis the war, and on the other hand, I have a strong belief in the ways through which feminism can be revolutionary despite its cooptation by neoliberal and imperialist powers. On a personal level, when the genocidal war began, I was completing a Master’s degree in Gender Studies at a public university in France, and my first confrontation with repression and intimidation that were practiced against pro-Palestininan mobilizations were within this context. Ever since, bringing up feminism to talk about Palestine has left me with anger, a stomach ache, and a sense of dissonance.
Since the beginning of the genocide, self-proclaimed feminists—those with political power and reach, have publicly and repeatedly used feminism as a tool to justify genocide, racism, and apartheid. Feminism was used to celebrate the lives of certain bodies, settler colonial bodies, deem those lives sacred, and their preservation necessary through any means —such as the annihilation of Arab bodies and the silencing and killing of pro-Palestinian voices.
The co-optation of feminism by political powers and by the West goes back to historical times, and its genocidal facet is not new. Colonialism and imperialism have always exploited gender for the service of the colony and used women’s bodies as sites of exploitation and subjugation. Feminism in that sense was a tool for colonialism and was complicit in the killings and the oppression of the colonized. Feminist scholars across the Global South—from Latin America to India—have long analyzed and critiqued imperial feminism’s support for colonial projects through using gendered oppression as a justification for the use of colonial violence.
One of the most famous critiques on this matter is the one Gayatri Spivak expressed against the British colonial rule of India during the 19th century, during which the British used the pretext of “saving brown women from brown men”^1 to pass colonial laws related to gendered social practices that were present within the Indian context at the time. A more recent example of the exploitation of gender for colonial ends is the case of the United States’ invasion of Afghanistan, and their justification of the invasion being that they wanted to save with Afghan women from Taliban^2. In the context of our own region even, Arab and Muslim women have always been portrayed by colonial powers as passive, oppressed, and submissive and therefore needing to be saved by Western colonial powers. In Palestine, Zionists instrumentalized gender to grant their genocidal war legitimacy. This was achieved through the false propaganda launched about women settlers being raped by Hamas, or through the instrumentalization of LGBTQIA+ rights to justify the annihilation of Palestinians. All of this circulated while Palestinian women were raped, bombed, tortured, shred into pieces, and denied reproductive care.
With regards to the mobilization against the genocide led by feminists in Western contexts, and more specifically in France where I currently reside, feminist groups organizing the first International Women’s Day March after October 7, 2023, found themselves facing a dilemma: whether to let Zionists into the march or not. While the answer is obvious, the organizers were incapable of keeping Zionists from protesting along them, and the outcome was that pro-Palestinian feminists were in the march for International Women’s Day alongside Zionist groups who showed up with bodyguards, ready to beat anyone who comes close. Not so feminist at the end. A fight erupted between pro-Palestinian protestors and the Zionist groups who were protected by police forces, and eventually it was pro-Palestinian activists who were accused of antisemitic acts. Some of them were detained and others are still facing the legal repercussions of these confrontations. Regardless of the internal dynamics between the organizations involved, this could have easily been predicted and could have easily been avoided. But most importantly what it highlights is the inability of the feminist movement – white in its majority – to confront its own racism and reflect upon its position within the broader geopolitical context. The groups involved were unable to translate their solidarity with Palestine into actions to confront the blatant racism within the French context, and in the end it was the ‘less privileged’ groups that paid the price.
I am not taking this example to feed the Western feminism vs. non-Western feminism dichotomy, as we can also reflect on the ways feminism in non-Western countries has failed to take a stand for Palestine. What I am trying to say here is that there is no self-righteousness in being a feminist, and statements alone do not protect feminism from serving colonial and exploitative powers. Feminism is a practice, and feminist acts of solidarity need to be grounded materially through sustained actions and tactics that contribute at different scales and levels to confronting domination and exploitation. And although we do not have the exact models and types of actions that can be put into place, feminism can contribute towards forging the way for identifying such types of actions that disrupt exploitation.
Right now, feminism, regardless of its strands, has failed to stand in the face of genocide. And no matter how many courses are taught in universities about power dynamics, colonialism, patriarchy, and capitalism, these remain empty academic teachings that fail to translate into action. In the context of the university, pro-Palestinian student movements were brutally repressed and controlled. In the U.S., immigrant students were deported and detained, and in other parts of the world, students fear that similar actions will be taken. During the year of my Master’s studies, it was “feminists” in positions of power who played an active role in policing us—the students who were organizing sit-ins and reading groups for Palestine on campus—and went to closely monitor our actions and to even intimidate us through various tactics and strategies. Similarly, in professional contexts, at times, it was feminists who censored pro-Palestinian content and statements and who contributed to further repressing pro-Palestinian voices. I can already recall how feminist networks I am part of which are supposedly against colonialism have remained silent on the genocide during the first period, and when called out ensured that their statement condemns the killings of Zionists on October 7 first.
This selective solidarity consequences on feminism as an ideology and practice and makes feminism complicit. Acknowledging this is necessary if we are to reimagine feminism and a feminist practice that is grounded in action and that understands and stands in the face of power in its different facets, and structures – including capitalist, military, colonial, imperial, and racist power. The tools for doing so do not need to be reinvented as they have been laid down upon us by anticolonial and anti-imperialist feminist and revolutionary movements. We can already learn from the ways women organized against settler colonialism starting with our region, in Lebanon, Palestine, and Syria, whether through enrolling in resistance movements or through supporting resistance groups. We can also learn from the solidarity structures built within the Palestinian context across the two Intifadas and even more historically, where women had a leading role in raising funds, protecting resistance fighters, organizing protests and engaging in strikes. Also, engaging in documenting and archiving revolutionary feminist movements is essential for this transmission of knowledge across generations. As we have come to know over the past two years, forging actions and practice that stand in the way of the Zionist and imperialist project comes with a price and a cost. However, attempting to imagine things differently, outside of the boundaries and threats of colonial powers, stands in this context as a necessity, a necessity for survival and for breaking from the limits that have been imposed on our imaginations by colonial powers, and on our capacity to imagine the world differently.
1. Spivak, G. C. (1988). Can the Subaltern Speak? In C. Nelson, & L. Grossberg (Eds.), Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture. Urbana/Chicago: University of Illinois Press.
2. Cooke, miriam. (2002). Saving Brown Women. Signs, 28(1), 468–470. https://doi.org/10.1086/340888
Zeina Mhaidly
Zeina Mhaidly is a feminist activist, writer and researcher from Lebanon residing in France since 2022. Her work is at the intersections of economic justice, feminist movement building and alliance building. More specifically, She looks at the impacts of neoliberal economic and funding structures on the possibilities of building antiracist and anticapitalist feminist movements. Her work is grounded in Marxist, queer and decolonial thought and is focused on the Southwest Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region










