women of the pomegranate

for the underestimated women of the mediterranean and southwest asia, bodily autonomy is an ancestral calling

It’s a time-honored tradition, the peeling of a pomegranate. The maroon sphere, seemingly complicated to a first-timer, will eventually spills tens of delicious, ruby-red gems after the right score, pressure, shake, or tear. I am partial to the score-and-wiggle.

The pomegranate–or anar, in my family’s native language–and its symbolism has penetrated culture far from its origins in the Mediterranean, including fertility, sex, menstruation, life, death, and abundance. But this hallmark of regional culture had its own significance in Ancient Rome, Greece, Anatolia, and Persia; to women in need of birth control, it meant freedom.

Mashed, pulped, or held under the tongue, the pomegranate seed was provided to those in need of preventative birth control or abortion. Otherwise-average women with a knowledge base in herbalism were trusted during critical times, performing an essential service in their communities. Before the medicalization of reproductive health care in the 19th century, this was typical in indigenous communities throughout the globe. Women were able to seek the care they needed—without male oversight—in their villages from neighboring herbalists, wise women, and even friends. Abortion and birth control were, even moreso than today, normal and accessible.

Slowly, however, reverence turned to accusations of witchcraft; these innovative pagan and holistic traditions were eventually demonized and systematically eradicated through Christian- and Islamization. Like any talented woman in history, community abortion providers were written off as demonic, sexually deviant, and above all, threatening to patriarchy. (Sounds like the kind of girls I want to hang out with.)

While colonization and industrialization spanned the globe, these “Women of the Pomegranate” were forced to continue their vital work in the shadows. As with any anti-feminist policy enforced by men, the women of the Mediterranean, Southwest Asia, and North Africa continued to find ways to care for their communities without consequence. Hidden forms of birth control, secret abortion provision methods, and even subtle ways to make abusive men disappear spanned the region, often appearing today in fables and stories.

To this day, when only two countries in the SWANA¹ region offer abortion access for social reasons, women are still getting abortions. Organizations like India-based Aid Access, Canadian Women on Web, and indigenous abortion methods like cupping ensure women from Iran, Syria, Iraq, and more can get the care they need, away from the eyes of the state.

And this isn’t unique; U.S. abortion seekers from Texas, Indiana, Georgia, and more hostile states are forced to use the same extralegal methods to access abortion care. As emergency contraception, Long Acting Reversible Contraception, and most hormonal birth control methods are increasingly labeled “abortifacients” by anti-abortion extremists, it’s clear that parts of the United States are on, literally, the same witch-hunt as their ancestors. Attempts to make this nation a “Christian state” are eerily reminiscent of what befell the women of ancient Europe and Asia, making their experiences vital for American organizers to learn from.

Women of the Pomegranate have long been carers for their communities, but the intrinsic knowledge of women from the Mediterranean and Southwest Asia have been warped by history.

Unfortunately, the combined forces of Orientalism, imperialism, and Islamophobia have created a mythical creature in the West; the fierce, talented, and underestimated women of the region are often reduced to meek damsels, victimized by Islam. Westerners–especially Americans–have long viewed women of this region, especially Muslim women, as “in need of saving.” At risk of being trite, I recommend these individuals meet my mother.

The U.S. feminist movement has been plagued by this same Islamophobia and Western exceptionalism since its inception. But even with the rise of pop intersectionality and identity politics, today’s (white) feminists continue to fear, loathe, and dehumanize Women of the Pomegranate.

Take the mainstream feminist reaction to genocide—including reproductive genocide—in Palestine, as an example:

Planned Parenthood, a name synonymous with abortion provision here in the U.S., has continually used its platform throughout the last year to engage in genocide denialism and support acts of war. From a public statement passively condoning Palestinian slaughter, to a notorious phone call where a staffer thanked a pro-Palestine supporter for being “pro-Hamas,” to literally contracting with Raytheon,² this major repro player situated themselves cleanly in alignment with the U.S. war machine. And they’re not alone.

While other institutional feminist organizations weren’t as explicit in condoning genocide, ignorance to the Women of the Pomegranate’s current plight was still communicated. Repro Freedom For All, formerly known as NARAL Pro-Choice America, spent the entirety of the short-lived Biden-Harris campaign convincing burnt out, abandoned abortion workers to “get on board” for Genocide Joe. The National Women’s Law Center, which previously took a (soft) stand against war in Ukraine, remained entirely silent. And as local abortion funds came together to connect Palestinian liberation to reproductive justice, funders and feminist organizations punished them—harshly. Organizations like the DC Abortion Fund lost tens of thousands of dollars in funding, community support, and even staff as a direct result of calling for an end to genocide in Palestine.

Workers in the abortion movement see the space as politically splintered after the events of October 7th—and given the upcoming general election, it’s the worst possible time for division.

Why is this what’s creating walls within the feminist movement? Why was it not the institutional waste of campaign funding, the abandonment of abortion funds and direct support organizations, or the incessant union-busting throughout the movement, resulting in the pushout of primarily young, marginalized feminists?

Aside from genocide in Palestine being the largest news story in the world, I believe the contentious nature for U.S. feminists is, in part, due to confusion on what to do with Women of the Pomegranate. Despite women in this diaspora often leading American feminist activism, the powerful, often white women who dictate the mainstream feminist agenda have long been fed convoluted ideas about our area of the world.

From Italy to India, the women who grow alongside anar trees have been described to them in contradictions. We are both strong and meek. Our men both adore us and hate us. We love our religions—none of them Protestant—but we hate them. We are brave for resisting compulsory headdress, but weak for donning it of our own volition. We are both idiotic victims and terrorist sympathizers. White women struggle to articulate blame—because of course, there must be blame—when it comes to the plight of SWANA feminists. It’s the men—no. It’s the religion—no. It’s the culture—no. It must be the women. It must be our fault.

As Americans contend with a region full of ethnic diversity, overlapping faiths, and ancient history, it’s much more difficult to find solidarity and compassion when racist rhetoric is your foundation of understanding. In the last year, I have seen messaging more similar to that of 2002 than I have of 2015. Arabs are being equivocated to animals, Palestinians are blamed for the apartheid system they’re forced to live under, and U.S. activists are all too happy to employ selective amnesia when it comes to reproductive injustices in Palestine. In short, it’s much easier to decide they’re not like us and move on, ignoring all the while that your hard-earned tax dollars are funding their annihilation.

It is cowardly and entirely without principle: and isn’t that The American Way?

But, as always, the Women of the Pomegranate endure. With or without the care and support of international feminists, women of the global majority have been busy saving ourselves, even amid abandonment and racism from our own movement. Our dedication is rooted in principle, of course, but also in a deep calling to liberate ourselves (and each other) through radical community care—from our homelands to the global diaspora. This is the true tradition of the Women of the Pomegranate–fierce, talented, and often underestimated in the realms of global politics and scholarship.

As fascism, gender essentialism, and cultural panic spreads across a rapidly-changing West, geographically-large and culturally-diverse nations like the United States could face similar strains on abortion provision as Turkey, Greece, Tunisia, Iran, and India. With varying abortion access based on region; economic, ethnic, and lifestyle diversity; and inconsistent availability of abortion services; there are more parallels than perpendiculars in the regions’ abortion landscapes. The Women of the Pomegranate are an ideal community from which Americans can swap strategies, and vice versa—if they choose to listen.

Reproductive justice and feminist activism needs to be truly borderless to work. White American women becoming “She-E-Os” does nothing for the girls of Afghanistan, who are no longer allowed to read, sing, or converse in public spaces. TikToks infantilizing war criminals are a stamp of approval on patriarchal violence, ensuring the martyrdom of thousands of Palestinian, Lebanese, Yemeni, and more women and children. Feminism is not a piece of social currency or a cute hat to don when you feel like it. If the Women of the Pomegranate have taught us anything, it’s that feminism is a sacred obligation to take care of one’s community: mine includes any woman of the global majority seeking help in determining her own life’s direction. This responsibility is ancestral for me, as I believe it should be for all of us. And from one Woman of the Pomegranate to another, it could be for you too.

After all, every anar lover knows the best part is sharing the seeds—no matter how long it took—with someone you love.

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As of September 4, 2024, Israeli aggression and genocide is ongoing in Palestine—and pregnant women are still bearing the brunt of the violence. From Ammal Awadallah, Executive Director of Palestinian Family Planning and Protection Association:

Over 37,900 people have now lost their lives in Gaza. Women and girls that survive are facing a myriad of challenges; deprived of sexual and reproductive health services, sanitary and hygiene products. We believe every single person and organisation needs to mobilise to end this, by calling on their governments to demand unhindered humanitarian aid access, to demand a permanent ceasefire, and divest from any organisations aiding and abetting Israel’s military campaign against Palestine.  

Please consider taking one of the following tangible actions to support Palestinians in need of reproductive care, or to support U.S. organizations in solidarity with Palestinian liberation:

• Donate to the Palestinian Family Planning and Protection Association (PFPPA).

• Donate to Aid Access and Women on Web.

• Donate to the abortion funds who have spoken out against reproductive genocide by referencing this list.

1. SWANA is a decolonial and geographical term that represents the various communities located in Southwest Asia and North Africa. Members of the diaspora and those aligned use this term instead of “Middle East,” which is both nonspecific and colonial in origin.

2. Planned Parenthood of Northern New England, an autonomous affiliate of Planned Parenthood, has instituted a “weapons exclusion” in their investment portfolio, effectively divesting from companies like Raytheon which profit from violence and war.