20 fotos

The last ‘butterflies’ of the Kurdish front

An old Sufi parable of Persian origin tells of three butterflies approaching the flame of a candle: the first observes it, the second feels its heat, and the third is consumed in the fire. Only the last attains true knowledge. The women who inhabit the mountains of Kurdistan see themselves in that third butterfly. Fighters of the Kurdistan Free Life Party (PJAK) and members of the Women’s Defense Forces (HPJ), they live and train in caves and hidden bases as the situation in Iran worsens and small groups move toward the Rojhilat border.

Valentina Sinis

Apr 14, 2026 - 17:49CEST

A group of 'havals,' or comrades, trained last February in the mountains where their military bases are located, moving across rugged terrain that has long served both as refuge and as front line. Most come from the Kurdish regions of Iran and belong to the Free Life Party of Kurdistan (PJAK), a Kurdish political‑military organization founded in the early 2000s that advocates Kurdish autonomy and gender equality and is ideologically influenced by Kurdish leader Abdullah Öcalan. The movement’s armed wing is divided between the YRK, the general militia that includes men, and the Women’s Defense Forces (HPJ), an all‑female combat unit. In recent weeks, as tensions in Iran have escalated, small groups of Kurdish fighters have moved toward the border with Rojhilat, and some have even crossed it to prepare for possible developments that might require their involvement. The HPJ was created to place women at the center of both the military struggle and political life, grounded in the idea that liberation must begin with women’s emancipation. Their training combines instruction in weapons use, mountain warfare, and survival skills with collective education on gender equality, grassroots democracy, ecology, and the preservation of Kurdish culture. Life in the mountains is organized collectively. Decisions are debated in assemblies, and hierarchy is usually conceived in terms of shared responsibility rather than rigid command. For many of these women, joining the movement represents not only armed resistance but also a personal transformation: a break with patriarchal constraints and an entry into a political project that links self‑defense with social change.Valentina Sinis

Haval Biseng braids another comrade’s hair. The young woman has taken the same name as an iconic figure of the Kurdish women’s movement. For her and her fellow fighters, the braid — the 'kezî' — is a badge of honor that links their struggle in the mountains to Iran’s Woman, Life, Freedom uprising, the movement born in September 2022 after the death in police custody of Mahsa Amini, a young Iranian woman of Kurdish origin detained for allegedly wearing her headscarf improperly. Haval Biseng comes from Urmia, in Rojhilat (Iranian Kurdistan), where she grew up in a family sympathetic to the Free Life Party of Kurdistan. The environment around her was largely feudal, but her family gave her a degree of freedom other girls did not enjoy — freedom that drew criticism from the community. During the Woman, Life, Freedom uprising, Haval Biseng also refused to wear a headscarf at school. The killing of Kurdish women became, she says, her turning point: she chose to resist the patriarchy, even knowing that decision would distance her from her family. She joined the Women’s Defense Forces because she believes the revolution can open the way to social change in which Kurdish women are no longer trapped between domestic violence and social control.Valentina Sinis

The havals walk inside one of the caves. “Before you pick up the rifle, fight for yourself; before the war, fight in life,” they say. Abdullah Öcalan’s ideas have shaped their understanding of struggle and communal living. His recent writings from prison emphasize that women are not objects of history but agents of change, and that their liberation must be at the center of any social transformation. The Kurdish thinker and political leader also argues that the patriarchal structures embedded in societies must be dismantled before freedom can be achieved, and that women’s freedom is the foundation of a free society. Öcalan has called this approach jineology, a current of thought that insists on collective education, mutual support, and shared responsibility as pathways toward women’s personal and social liberation.Valentina Sinis

A moment of rest for the Women’s Defense Forces inside one of the caves where they take shelter. The havals have been following the events of the war in Iran on television. They watch a mix of broadcasts aligned with their movement, Kurdish channels, and Turkish state media in order to understand both the different perspectives on the tensions in Iran and in the Kurdish regions on both sides of the borders, as well as the geopolitical lens of each country involved in the conflict. For them, it is a way of planning their actions more effectively.Valentina Sinis

The havals walk through the interior of the cave. They are in a shelter used to host temporary guests before they are sent on to other caves for military training, ideological study, or daily communal activities. Life in the caves is meticulously organized. Each day begins with physical training before breakfast. Afterward, the fighters take care of camp maintenance and prepare for the movement’s ideological instruction, which is held several times a week through readings, videos, and collective discussions. Military exercises take place in different locations, including caves and tunnels, where they train for specific roles such as leadership, technical support, medical care, or logistics. The fighters rotate regularly so they can adapt to any situation. Weekly assemblies, in which men sometimes also participate, bring together the women of the camp. There, operational matters coexist with conversations about history, gender, and community responsibility, forming a framework in which armed presence is inseparable from political consciousness.Valentina Sinis

Haval Delal (left) was born to an Armenian mother and a Kurdish father. Her great‑grandmother survived the Armenian genocide of 1915, and her grandfather took part in the Ararat rebellions, a Kurdish uprising in Turkey between 1927 and 1930. She is determined to break the cycle of trauma that has affected generations of Kurds. She reflects that while Kurds and other peoples lived in relative peace for centuries, the past 200 years have been marked by oppression and violence. If necessary, she says, she will fight to ensure a safe future for Kurdish children. It is a “form of legitimate self‑defense,” she says. She joined the party after graduating in dentistry at age 23. Drawn to the idea of practical solutions and social organization, she is inspired by the vision of a communal socialist life. “Here is the seed of free life. I will work to help it grow, so that the children of the future can play freely under the trees of Kurdistan,” she says.Valentina Sinis

The havals build an intimacy that goes far beyond daily tasks. They look after one another as they cook, mend boots, braid each other’s hair, share silences, or speak openly about fears and hopes. They also recreate spaces for music, singing, and collective dance — practices that have long been part of Kurdish culture and resilience. Traditional Kurdish dances, often performed in a circle and accompanied by rhythms and songs, are a common way to celebrate or to mark moments of unity. These cultural practices are not merely recreational: they reflect a heritage in which music, dance, and song accompany collective identity and resistance. At times, after training sessions, the fighters dance and sing revolutionary anthems or traditional melodies.Valentina Sinis

Haval Silav is from Bakur (the part of Kurdistan under Turkish sovereignty, in southeastern Turkey) and grew up in a well‑off, patriotic family connected to the movement. They were non‑dogmatic Muslims, and her environment blended conservative values with an open‑minded outlook. When she was three or four, the family moved to Italy, where she was raised alongside her two older brothers. At eight, she experienced a family loss that marked her deeply. She later attended university in Italy. But she felt driven by a purpose she saw as greater: the freedom of the Kurdish people and the role of women in that transformation. In her family, commitment came with a tangible cost: two cousins died in the struggle, and two others remain active in the movement. Inspired by the first Woman, Life, Freedom uprisings in Iran, she decided to join the party and moved to Kurdistan that same year. There, she was struck by a deeper understanding of Kurdish historical and social identity, as well as by the violence inflicted on her people, including chemical attacks against fighters. At first, some of the movement’s practices felt rigid or even dogmatic to her. Over time, she began to see them as concrete responses and embraced the voluntary nature of the militancy. Today, her goal is to challenge patriarchal mindsets and transform gender relations. She dreams of living in a liberated Kurdistan, in the village of Cilin in Mardin province, planting walnut trees across the region. At first, some of the movement’s practices felt rigid or even dogmatic to her. Over time, she began to see them as concrete responses and embraced the voluntary nature of the militancy. Today, her goal is to challenge patriarchal mindsets and transform gender relations. She dreams of living in a liberated Kurdistan, in the village of Cilin in Mardin province, planting walnut trees across the region.Valentina Sinis

On the right, Haval Cekzin, originally from Rojava (Syrian Kurdistan), grew up in a well‑off family as the only daughter among several brothers. In 2016, while studying photography, she witnessed an ISIS attack in the Syrian town of Deir ez‑Zor — an experience that marked her deeply. At 17, she decided to join the struggle for Kurdistan. Her family was afraid, but they did not oppose her. The violence she saw and the courage of the women fighters, as well as the coexistence of men and women on the front lines, strengthened her resolve. In 2019, she formally joined the movement and became part of the HPJ. Among the Kurdish mountains, she continued to develop her eye as a photographer, in an environment where she especially values friendship, trust, and respect. On the left, Haval Nuziyan, from Bakur, grew up between the city and the countryside in a family of milis, civilian supporters of the Kurdish liberation movement. After her brother was arrested, she took on the care of her nephews. She balanced that responsibility with her studies and an early political education: she read Öcalan and learned about the fighters’ experiences through her mother. At 14, she formally joined the party. During her military training, she was struck by the cohesion among women. At first, however, she had to confront resistance from some male comrades toward female authority. Today, she says she finds her strength in collective life, study, and the bonds between comrades. She is convinced that the revolution is already underway and that her struggle will help protect future generations and contribute to the liberation of the Kurdish people.Valentina Sinis

The havals bake bread and cook inside small underground bases as part of daily life and their training. In all the subterranean camps and caves, the comrades constantly prepare fresh bread and basic foods — not only for themselves, but also for the fighters moving toward the Rojhilat border. They do so while closely following the events of the war in Iran, which could redraw the region’s security landscape.Valentina Sinis

This cave serves as the HPJ’s main hospital. It is equipped with dental and X‑ray rooms, dormitories for doctors, a surgical area, patient wards, a kitchen, a communal dining room, and washrooms for both women and men. Comrades come and go constantly for checkups, especially now, as tensions in Iran rise and groups move toward the Rojhilat border. The doctors do not work permanently in a single cave; they move from one to another and even travel to the front.Valentina Sinis

Haval Aryen plays with Haval Biseng and the cave’s cat. Aryen, 21, is from Rojhilat and joined the HPJ two years ago. Originally from Urmia, she grew up in a family that allowed her to study. But at 16, she first learned about the party and the role of women within it, and she decided to enlist in the HPJ — even though that choice meant leaving her previous life behind: losing contact with her family, giving up her phone, and accepting a new, disciplined communal life. Reading Öcalan helped her understand the value of communal living, the solidarity among comrades, and the deeper meaning of love and support within the movement.Valentina Sinis

The havals talk and laugh together as they rest after a long walk. Three butterflies see a fire in the distance. The first reaches it and returns, saying it is light. The second comes back and says it is heat. The third flies closer and dissolves into it, never returning. To reach “the truth,” one must sacrifice oneself. For these Kurdish guerrillas, this parable reflects their struggle, inspired by Abdullah Öcalan’s philosophy. They see themselves as those who approach the fire, willing to give everything for freedom and justice. Their fight is not only against external enemies but also against internalized oppression.Valentina Sinis

Haval Media plays with a bird inside her underground base. She traces her origins to the Medes, an ancient Kurdish people of Mesopotamia. She grew up as the youngest daughter in a well‑off family, very close to her mother. Although she witnessed some violence within her family, neither she nor her siblings were physically mistreated. She knew of the comrades, but her mother never allowed direct contact. Curiosity led her to join the movement in 2016, at age 15, and she quickly discovered the depth of life inside the party. The bonds among women affected her profoundly, even though dogmatic behaviors sometimes hurt her. One of her worst moments came with the death of a comrade: after a drone attack, she personally gathered the remains of the fallen haval, recognizing her by a bracelet. She believes the revolution is unfolding at this very moment, and one of her deepest commitments is to write the history of the “martyrs.”Valentina Sinis

A haval enters one of the underground bases. Unlike the long, extensive cave systems, these bases are built quickly and are far more austere. They are temporary shelters, not designed to withstand missiles, bombs, or heavy fire. When they are discovered by an enemy force, they are abandoned immediately and left to collapse as the fighters move to new positions. Constant mobility is central to the strategy. These bases usually contain only the essentials: a sleeping area, a small kitchen, and a toilet. In quieter areas, some have basic electricity and running water. The long cave networks carved into the mountains serve a different purpose: they are fortified, expansive, and able to safely house large groups for longer periods. The underground bases support the daily life of fighters in transit, while the caves function as stable centers for communal living, military training, and preparation.Valentina Sinis

A fighter from a special unit trains as a sniper inside the mountains. She has completed courses in precision shooting and drone operation, and says she is ready to enter Rojhilat if ordered. Upon joining the movement, fighters follow structured paths that combine military preparation with ideological training. Weeks of collective study precede specialized schools where they develop skills according to their experience, education, and personal inclination. Some train in precision shooting; others in drone operation, sabotage tactics, field medicine, or protection against chemical threats. Not everyone goes through every track, but the opportunities remain open for those who want to deepen their role. Commanders assign the specialties, though each fighter’s motivation and demonstrated abilities also play an essential part.Valentina Sinis

A group of HPJ women move along the mountainside, their camouflage uniforms dissolving into the surrounding terrain. The clothing they wear has both practical and tactical value. Their trousers, inspired by the traditional Kurdish men’s garment, are intentionally loose, helping to break up body silhouettes and reduce visibility against the thermal detection used by aircraft and drones. They also allow freedom of movement across rocky ground and steep paths, making the uniform functional and adapted to the landscape they inhabit daily. Accessories also reflect this balance between necessity and identity. The belt between shirt and trousers is often the colorful Kurdish sash, though it is sometimes replaced with an elastic ammunition belt during operations. Fighters often carry umbrellas at night — a strategy meant to complicate thermal recognition by aerial surveillance. Attention to personal appearance is part of collective discipline: uniforms are kept clean and hair well maintained, though both are adapted when entering active contexts.Valentina Sinis