Kurdish women have taken up the defense of their region, and have found a real bonding experience with their fellow women in arms. So much so, they don't want to go back to their previous way of life:
One woman I became close to was Shaima Sami. When the Ba'ath party executed her father and brother, her mother joined the Peshmerga, as did her three daughters, including Shaima who was only fourteen. Now twenty one, she guards a roadblock at night while attending school in the day.
Incredibly beautiful and charismatic, she is always running around with her Kalashnikov pretending to shoot Saddam who is hiding in the bushes and singing revolutionary songs at the top of her voice. At night we shared a blanket while I taught her a few words of English under the brightest stars I have ever seen, which stretched right down to the horizon.
Asked whether they will ever return to their civilian lives and the conventional roles of Muslim women, the Peshmergas' answer is a resounding 'no' - they 'love the Kalashnikov and an outdoor life' too much. Even when the cause is gone, they will remain.
While the author rejoices in finding a new breed of Amazons, it would appear that they're more shell-shocked and deranged than enlightened by their experience with war. Singing and shooting imaginary bogey-men suggest that the experiment with death and destruction took its toll. Put the guns down and step away from the barracks. (Why do we ogle and cheer instead of offering help?)
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