From TikTok to Minefields: Capturing the Unexpected Reality of Iraq’s Women Deminers

On the left, a woman in a colorful, traditional dress adorned with flowers stands against a plain wall, holding small white flowers. On the right, there is a black and white image of four metal weapons, including a missile and a grenade, against a white background.
Halala, a MAG deminer, juxtaposes the beauty of Kurdish heritage with the stark reality of war, as she stands amid defused munitions at the Chamchamal training base, symbolizing her role in erasing the scars of conflict.

As I set up my makeshift studio in the Mines Advisory Group training base in Kurdistan, Iraq, I expected to photograph somber, conservative Yazidi women whose culture was shrouded in mystery and bizarre rumors. Instead, I found myself directing a TikTok-inspired pose from a Yazidi woman in full traditional dress, complete with ornate headwear and golden adornments – and Adidas sneakers peeking out from underneath.

Little did I know that this project, coinciding with the approaching 10th anniversary of the Yazidi genocide, would challenge every preconception I had.

A woman in a long, patterned dress and traditional headwear stands in a room with various artifacts and a wicker partition. The room has a large window with blinds, tables with items, and several cylindrical objects in the foreground and background.
Sanaria, surrounded by deactivated munitions, reflects the stark reality of her role at the MAG Chamchamal training center, where she honed the skills necessary to clear her country’s land of the remnants of war.

This surreal moment encapsulated the challenging and eye-opening experience of photographing women deminers in post-ISIS Iraq. As a portrait photographer, I’ve worked in various settings, but nothing compared to the complexities of capturing these women’s stories – a delicate balance of cultural heritage, modern aspirations, and the grim reality of their life-saving work.

My mission was clear: create a series of portraits of Yazidi, Kurdish, and Arab women who now clear the very landmines and IEDs that devastated their communities. But as I quickly learned, their stories – and my photographic approach – would be anything but straightforward.

A woman stands outside in a rural area beside a car, looking towards the open driver's side door. She is wearing a white dress with a black cloak. Another woman's hand, dressed in a white, gold-dotted sleeve, is seen holding the car door. Mountains and trees are in the background.
Halala, framed by the doorway that leads back to her life’s work, contemplates the terrain she has pledged to secure. With a history as a psychologist and now a deminer, she embodies the strength and care of her Kurdish heritage, a legacy she protects with each step she takes on the minefields near her home.
A person with dark hair and eyebrows is smiling gently. They are wearing a traditional headpiece adorned with intricate patterns, gold coins, and a light fabric draped around their neck. The background is dark, highlighting their facial features and clothing details.
Fahima’s gentle smile, beneath the ornate folds of her ‘lilak’, radiates the warmth of her spirit, an emblem of her Yazidi legacy and enduring hope.
A person wearing traditional clothing, including a headscarf and a colorful garment, smiles while taking a selfie with a smartphone. They are standing in front of a grey backdrop with some wrinkles, and the floor appears textured or unfinished.
In the soft light of a makeshift studio, Fahima captures her own image, a modern twist to her traditional Yazidi headwear, her expression one of quiet confidence and a touch of playfulness in a pause from her life’s serious work.

The journey began with a stark reminder of the region’s fragile peace. Staying near the American Consulate, we were jolted one morning by blaring sirens warning of a potential threat. As the radar on a nearby rooftop frantically scanned the sky, the consulate’s PA system ominously intoned “Target 4 o’clock.” Nothing came of the alarm, but it set the tone for our stay – a constant undercurrent of tension beneath the surface of daily life. That, coupled with my creative and life partner fainting on the bathroom floor from food poisoning the day before, made it clear we were in for quite an adventure.

This tension extended to my photographic process. How do you capture the essence of women some of whom have survived unimaginable horrors and now walk into minefields daily, all while respecting their cultural identity? The answer, I thought, lay in embracing contradictions and thinking on my feet.

Take Siham, a 24-year-old Arab woman from Mosul who recounted fleeing ISIS at 14, losing her husband to their brutality, and now working to rid her homeland of their deadly legacy. She arrived at the MAG training ground wearing a formal red business-like jacket – a stark contrast to the surroundings that resembled my grandmother’s garden in Lithuania. As I frantically searched for a way to make this work, my eyes landed on the canopy of olive trees. Suddenly, Annie Leibovitz’s portrait of Alice Waters came to mind – a chef standing with a peach against a backdrop of leaves. The olive branch, a symbol of peace, perfectly summarizes the struggle in Siham’s life. This kind of on-the-spot creative problem-solving raised my nerves and temperature, with no time to prep.

Two women in beige outfits stand on the tailgate of a white pickup truck, overlooking a sprawling cityscape nestled among mountains. The sky is clear, and the city, with modern buildings and open spaces, extends towards the horizon. The women look resolute.
Overlooking the city of Duhok, Siham Fayruz and Rawa Ahmed, deminers from Mosul, reflect on their harrowing past and the peaceful future they’re fighting for.
A person stands outdoors wearing a beige cargo shirt and pants. They are looking confidently towards the camera with a slight smile. The background features a hazy, expansive landscape with buildings and greenery stretching into the distance.
In the fading light above Duhok, Siham Fayruz contemplates the tranquility of a city spared the siege that ravaged her hometown of Mosul. Her steadfast poise belies a history of loss and a fierce determination to protect the future from the shadows of the past

These technical challenges were quite complex. Working in and around a demining training facility meant improvising with limited space and resources. I found myself using everything from pink fabric backdrops hastily hung between trees to the natural landscape of Dokan’s rolling hills. Each setup required careful consideration – how to frame these women in a way that told the story I was there to capture while honoring both their cultural heritage and their crucial, dangerous work.

My gear choices were critical in these challenging environments. I relied heavily on my Fujifilm GFX 100s with 45mm, 63mm, and 110mm lenses, allowing me to capture both environmental portraits and closer, more intimate shots. I chose this system for its exceptional image quality and dynamic range, crucial for capturing the nuanced details in both the harsh sunlight and deep shadows of the Iraqi landscape. A Profoto B10x Plus light was my lighting choice because of its portability and power. At the same time, I opted for a Pixapro 105cm 16-sided rice bowl softbox because of its sturdy construction that I felt could withstand the unpredictable windy conditions.

The technical challenges were compounded by language barriers. While I had a translator, it’s not the same as being able to connect directly with your subject. I quickly learned that emotion and a heartfelt hug were languages we all understood, bridging gaps where words failed.

A woman dressed in a traditional, ornate black and gold outfit, adorned with jewelry, stands against a light background. Beside her, on a separate panel, is a black and white photograph of various artillery shells displayed on a flat surface.
Avan, a MAG deminer, juxtaposed with inert munitions at the Chamchamal training base, highlighting the transition from conflict to safety.
Three women stand in a serene outdoor setting with bare trees and a distant city skyline. The central woman, dressed in a light blue gown, sits on a rock, while the other two hold up a large piece of light fabric behind her, creating a modest backdrop.
Berivan and Fahima frame Holya against a makeshift backdrop of pink fabric, a poignant contrast to the sprawling city of Duhok, Iraq, as they honor their commitment to landmine clearance 10 years after ISIS devastated their homeland in Sinjar.
A woman stands outdoors on rocky terrain, wearing a traditional black and gold dress adorned with blue flowers. She has a headscarf and various decorative items around her, with a barren tree and mountains in the background under a clear sky.
Amidst a field that bears the scars of conflict, Avan stands as a symbol of resilience. Clad in her traditional Kurdish dress, she contrasts the harsh reality of war, represented by the munitions at her feet, with the beauty and strength of her culture and the unyielding courage required in her mission to defuse the remnants of danger.

One particularly memorable moment came when photographing three Yazidi women against a pink backdrop suspended between trees. As I contorted myself into increasingly awkward positions to get the perfect angle, I ended up in what can only be described as a gynecological pose on the ground, legs spread wide. The sight proved too much for my models, who burst into laughter, looking at each other in disbelief. It was a humorous lesson in cultural sensibilities and a reminder of the unexpected moments that can bridge cultural divides.

The juxtaposition of culture, traditions, and modern realities became a central theme in my work. Avan, a 26-year-old Kurdish deminer with a background in electrical engineering, posed in her traditional dress with munitions at her feet and a backdrop of the Dokan landscape near the minefield where she worked. This stark contrast between her cultural identity and her life-saving work became a powerful visual metaphor for the complex realities these women navigate daily.

This contrast was never more apparent than when I photographed the Yazidi women in one of their homes earlier. Setting up a makeshift backdrop on a wall, I noticed how they wouldn’t let go of their phones, constantly snapping selfies – a striking juxtaposition with their traditional dresses and everything I thought I knew about their culture from media portrayals. When I mentioned TikTok, they instantly shifted into a completely different mode of posing, one that I eagerly captured on camera. It was a powerful reminder of the complexities of identity in our interconnected world.

Four women dressed in traditional, ornate clothing sit on a grassy hillside with mountains in the background. They are adorned with colorful jewelry and headpieces, exuding a sense of cultural pride and heritage as they gaze into the distance under a clear blue sky.
Seated in the grasses of Dokan, these four Kurdish deminers from MAG share a moment of repose, their traditional dresses a vivid contrast to the serene, mountainous land they diligently clear of mines.
On the left, a woman in traditional clothes holds a small bouquet and smiles softly. On the right, black and white depictions of a large mortar shell and two smaller grenades are displayed against a plain light background.
Hauras stands with quiet strength in Chamchamal’s MAG training base, her traditional attire contrasting with the remnants of conflict — a poignant reminder of the resilience and hope she embodies as a deminer.
A woman stands beside a tree in a picturesque mountainous landscape, draped in a shimmering silver and pink traditional garment. She appears serene, holding her shawl around her shoulders. A white cloth backdrop is set up behind her, enhancing the natural light.
Houras, with the heart of a teacher and the courage of a deminer, stands between a translucent backdrop fluttering on the winds of Dokan and the reality of minefields, her traditional Kurdish attire as radiant as her spirit, dedicated to the safety of her large family and the unity of her female team

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of this project was doing justice to the women’s stories through my images. How do you visually represent the journey of someone like Rawa, who fled ISIS when they invaded Mosul? She saw bodies burning, and cars and houses destroyed. Her husband broke his back as they ran from ISIS, leaving her the breadwinner for her family of 6. ISIS’ oppression of women encouraged her to want to do well and gain new skills. At 45 now skilled in defusing explosives, she works as a deminer, making it safe for others to return.

Sometimes the answers I was looking for found me instead. After the photo shoot, Rawa came to me and asked for one more photo. I felt she wanted to show me something but I was not sure if she wanted to give something to me or to give something to herself. She took off her hijab because she wanted her hair to flow freely in the wind. I didn’t ask for it but I followed her lead. I sat her on a random stone covered in pink fabric from an earlier shoot. The moment was more important than the location, so I lifted my camera and took a shot. I hope I managed to capture what she wanted to show me.

As the project neared its end, I realized that my greatest challenge had become my greatest asset. The contradictions I encountered – tradition vs. modernity, trauma vs. resilience, danger vs. hope – had pushed me to create some of the most nuanced and meaningful portraits. This experience has shifted my approach to portrait photography, teaching me to look beyond surface-level assumptions and find the complex stories that lie beneath.

A person stands smiling in traditional attire against a draped fabric backdrop. They wear a dark textured top, a white dress, and a black and gold headpiece with ornamental details. The individual poses with a hand raised near their face, giving a friendly and inviting expression.
Berivan, in her family’s home transformed into a makeshift studio, brings the vibrancy of Yazidi culture to life through her attire and spontaneous TikTok-inspired gesture, her smile a glimpse into the enduring spirit that defines her.
On the left, a woman in traditional attire stands against a plain backdrop, holding flowers. On the right, there is a monochromatic photograph of three types of artillery shells placed on a white surface, with one shell partially obscured by another.
Sanaria, poised at Chamchamal’s MAG training facility, her traditional dress juxtaposed with defused munitions, is a silent testament to the peace restored by the demining efforts she contributes to.
Three women are standing outdoors against a scenic backdrop of hills and a cityscape. They are smiling and wearing light blue tops and shawls. A leafless tree branch is visible in the top left corner of the image. The sky is partly cloudy.
Fahima, Berivan, and Holya, Yazidi deminers for Mines Advisory Group, stand before the rugged landscape of Duhok, Iraq, marking the approach of a somber decade since the ISIS conflict, their stories of survival and resilience as vivid as the city behind them.

As I packed up my gear and said goodbye to the remarkable women I’d met, I was struck by a final irony. I had come to document their story, but in the process, they had changed mine. Through my lens, I had glimpsed a world far more complex and hopeful than I could have imagined – a testament to the power of photography to bridge cultures and challenge our understanding of the world.

For photographers considering similar projects, my advice is this: embrace the unexpected. Let your preconceptions be challenged. Be prepared to improvise, both technically and creatively. Most importantly, approach your subjects with an open mind and heart. The most powerful images often emerge when we allow ourselves to be surprised by the stories we encounter. And sometimes, the most profound moments come when you least expect them – like a TikTok pose in traditional Yazidi dress, reminding us that in every portrait, there’s a story waiting to be told that goes far beyond what meets the eye.


About the author: Sane Seven is an award-winning portrait/ad photography duo who works internationally on commissions that range from fashion legend Jimmy Choo to heads of state like Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard. The duo is a regular contributor at The Sunday Times with an interest in future technologies. In 2020, Sane Seven used a remotely controlled robot to create a social campaign for The Women in Data in the UK. In 2021, Sane Seven received Gold in New York Photography Awards and an equivalent accolade in London Photography Awards in 2022. You can find more of Sane’s work on Instagram.

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