ISIS rose from the chaos of war, promising a new Islamic state. Instead, it built a regime of fear, where women became the main victims. Behind the black flags was a system of control so cruel that life itself turned into captivity, and entire communities lived under constant terror. The story begins in 2003, when the United States invaded Iraq and removed Saddam Hussein from power. The invasion created a power vacuum.
Many old structures of government collapsed, and Iraq fell into chaos. In that chaos, a Jordanian man named Abu Musab al-Zarqawi stepped in. He had already been involved in militant activities, but now he saw an opportunity to grow his influence. Zarqawi formed a group that eventually pledged loyalty to Osama bin Laden, the leader of al-Qaeda. This became known as al-Qaeda in Iraq.
Unlike traditional al-Qaeda groups that mainly focused on attacking the West, Zarqawi’s men were even more ruthless toward locals. They bombed mosques, markets, and police stations, killing thousands of ordinary Iraqis. His cruelty shocked even al-Qaeda’s own leadership. In 2006, Zarqawi was killed in a U.S. airstrike.
After his death, the group weakened and tried to rebuild by calling itself the Islamic State of Iraq, or ISI. For a few years, ISI struggled. Many thought the movement might fade away. But history took another turn when Syria fell into civil war in 2011. With borders collapsing, ISI fighters moved into Syria, taking advantage of the lawlessness.
By 2013, the group had a new leader: Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, an Iraqi with a background in Islamic studies. Baghdadi was different from Zarqawi. He was not only brutal but also very organized. He expanded operations on both sides of the Iraq-Syria border and renamed the group the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS.
Then came the year 2014. In a stunning attack, ISIS captured Mosul, Iraq’s second-largest city with a population of over 1.5 million. The world watched in shock as the Iraqi army collapsed and fled, leaving weapons and equipment behind. ISIS fighters paraded through the city, showing they were no longer a small insurgent group but a force with real power.
In July 2014, Baghdadi appeared in the Grand Mosque of Mosul. Dressed in black robes, he declared the creation of a caliphate, claiming himself as the new leader of all Muslims worldwide. For many, this was the moment ISIS truly became a global threat. From this point, they set up their own government, their own laws, and their own brutal system of control.
They promised people they were restoring an ancient Islamic empire. But instead of peace, they built a state of fear. They issued rulebooks that told people how to live, how to dress, and even how to think. For women, the rules were suffocating. In ISIS-controlled cities like Raqqa in Syria and Mosul in Iraq, women could not leave their homes without a male guardian.
If they went out, they had to be fully covered in black, from head to toe. A simple mistake, like showing their hands or wearing the wrong shoes, could lead to a beating in the street. The fear of punishment was constant. ISIS formed a religious police force called the Hisbah. They patrolled daily, making sure everyone obeyed. There were even all-female Hisbah units. These women often carried sticks, whips, and guns.
They punished other women for not wearing the veil properly or for speaking too loudly in public. Girls as young as nine were forced into veils, their childhood stripped away in an instant. But clothing was only part of the control. Marriage was another weapon. Fighters could demand brides, and families had no power to say no.
Fathers who refused risked arrest or worse. Widows of dead ISIS fighters were quickly remarried, sometimes only days after their husbands were killed. The group treated women like property to be passed from one man to another. Daily life became unbearable. Women lost jobs, education was cut off for girls, and freedom vanished overnight.
For many, the home became a prison. And beyond that prison, an even darker reality was waiting. In August 2014, ISIS launched one of its most brutal attacks on the Yazidi people of northern Iraq. The Yazidis are an ancient minority community with roots going back thousands of years.
Their faith blends elements of old Mesopotamian traditions with Islam and Christianity. For centuries, they lived mainly around Mount Sinjar, a rugged area that had been their safe haven through many waves of persecution. ISIS, however, saw them differently. The group labeled Yazidis as “infidels,” believing their faith was not acceptable under its twisted rules.
For ISIS, this meant only two options: convert or die. When ISIS fighters stormed Sinjar in early August, the attack was sudden and overwhelming. Villages were surrounded. Men were separated from their families, marched into fields or open areas, and executed in mass killings.
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Human rights groups later estimated that thousands of Yazidi men were murdered in just a matter of days. Many were buried in hastily dug mass graves across the mountainside, graves that are still being uncovered today. The women and girls faced a different fate. Instead of being executed, they were captured. Reports show that about 6,417 Yazidis were taken alive.
Among them were children, girls as young as nine years old. Families were torn apart forever in those moments, with mothers ripped away from daughters and sisters split from one another. Once captured, ISIS divided the Yazidis into groups. Men and older women, especially those past childbearing age, were often killed outright.
The younger women and girls were considered “spoils of war.” They were loaded onto trucks and transported to different cities under ISIS control, including Mosul, Raqqa, and Tal Afar, where they were treated like objects. ISIS did not leave slavery to chance. They built it into their system like it was part of normal governance.
Women were not just captured; they were counted, registered, and documented in official papers. Fighters kept receipts of sales, records of ownership transfers, and even notes about children born to enslaved women. It showed a shocking level of planning. In Raqqa, ISIS created an office called the “Department of War Spoils.” This office worked almost like a government bureau, except instead of handling land or taxes, it controlled women.
It kept lists of who owned which captive, and it arranged sales between fighters. Sometimes, fighters were rewarded with slaves after battles. In other cases, they were allowed to buy them directly through the office. To make it appear “legal” under their version of religion, ISIS invented the practice of “temporary marriages.” These were not marriages in the true sense.
They were contracts that could last a few hours, a few days, or a week at most. When the time ended, the woman could be sold again or given to another fighter. This turned women into revolving possessions, stripped of any dignity or choice. The abuse was constant and widespread. Pregnant women were not protected.
Some were forced to give birth while still in captivity. Many babies were taken from their mothers and handed over to ISIS families, where they were raised to become future fighters. In other cases, women were forced into abortions so that fighters could continue exploiting them without interruption. The cruelty had no limit.
ISIS even set price charts. Young girls cost less, while women with certain physical features could be valued higher. Survivors later described how they were displayed in front of groups of men, like objects in a shop. A girl might be bought for a few hundred dollars, then sold again days later at a higher price.
This cycle could repeat many times, leaving the women with no sense of where they would end up next. The numbers tell part of the tragedy. By 2016, the United Nations estimated that around 3,000 Yazidi women and girls were still enslaved. Many had been missing for years by then.
Families searched for them desperately, but ISIS often moved captives between cities or even across borders, making rescue almost impossible. Not every woman who ended up inside ISIS territory was captured in war. Some made the choice to go. Between 2014 and 2016, thousands of women from all over the world left their homes to join ISIS. Estimates say that around 4,700 foreign women traveled to Syria and Iraq during those years.
Most of these women came from countries like Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Others arrived from North Africa, Central Asia, Russia, and even the United States. Many were young, some still teenagers, who had never even left their home country before. ISIS recruiters used the internet to reach them.
On platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and encrypted apps, they shared propaganda videos and stories of life in the so-called caliphate. They painted a picture of a “pure” Islamic state where women could live with honor, marry brave fighters, and raise the next generation. For girls who felt isolated, discriminated against, or lost in their own societies, the promises sounded appealing.
Some were also tricked. Recruiters pretended to be friends, mentors, or even potential husbands. They told women that joining ISIS would give them a sense of belonging. For many, the decision to go was made secretly. Families often woke up one morning to find their daughters missing, only to discover later that they had crossed into Syria.
Once they arrived, reality was completely different. Life in the caliphate was not a dream, it was a prison. Women were quickly forced into marriages with fighters. Many found themselves married to strangers they had never spoken to before. If their husbands were killed in battle, they were often remarried within days, sometimes against their will.
The morality police watched them closely. Every move was monitored. Talking to men was not allowed. The rules were so strict that many foreign women said later they felt trapped almost immediately, but there was no way back. Borders were heavily guarded, and anyone trying to escape risked execution. Some foreign women became active supporters of ISIS.
They worked as recruiters, encouraging more women online to leave their countries and join. A number of them also joined the al-Khansaa Brigade, an all-female police unit in Raqqa. This group enforced dress codes, punished women who broke rules, and helped keep female captives in line. Ironically, many women who had been lured by promises of sisterhood and safety ended up becoming enforcers of cruelty themselves.
Others, however, realized too late that they had been deceived. Many were trapped in violent marriages, abused by their husbands, and powerless to leave. Some gave birth to children in war zones, raising babies surrounded by bombings and executions. ISIS placed special focus on young girls. Fighters wanted brides who were novice and very young.
Many were forced into marriage at 12 or 13. Parents were powerless. In Mosul, families were ordered to give up their daughters for marriage. Girls who refused were beaten, starved, or locked in cells. Some were married to much older men, including commanders in their 40s or 50s. The trauma left scars that lasted a lifetime.
Survivors described losing their childhood overnight, becoming wives and mothers before they even understood what was happening. The children who were born inside the so-called caliphate had no clear future. According to estimates made by the United Nations, thousands of children had been born to foreign mothers and local fathers in Iraq and Syria. These children often had no official documents, which meant no recognized nationality.
ISIS treated these children as part of its project for the future. In schools, classrooms were changed into training grounds. Lessons in science and history were replaced with long hours of religious teaching designed to build loyalty. Playgrounds became drill sites.
Instead of normal childhoods, many boys were told they would grow up to be fighters, while girls were taught that their role was to marry at a young age. Foreign families who had traveled to Syria brought their children with them. Many of these children had been born in places like Britain, France, Germany, and Australia, but ended up in war zones.
They lived in camps set up by ISIS, surrounded by constant fear and uncertainty. Some grew up never seeing a safe home or knowing life outside of conflict. Local families also faced enormous pressure. Parents in cities under ISIS control had little choice but to send their children to schools run by the group. If they refused, they risked punishment.
Some families tried to keep their children hidden at home, but this was dangerous, and many could not manage it for long. As time went on, children began to be used more directly. Some were shown how to handle simple tasks for fighters, such as delivering messages or carrying supplies. Others were placed in groups where they were taught discipline and obedience from a very young age.
These programs were carefully organized, showing how deeply ISIS wanted to shape the next generation. ISIS prisons were another layer of horror for women. In cities like Mosul, Raqqa, and Deir ez-Zor, many women ended up behind bars. Some were accused of breaking the strict dress codes or speaking to men who weren’t relatives.
Others were simply Yazidi captives, locked away until fighters decided whether to sell them, trade them, or keep them as slaves. The conditions inside were unbearable. Cells meant for a handful of people often held dozens of women. There was no clean water, little food, and almost no medical care. Disease spread quickly, and many women became weak and sick.
Guards used torture as punishment, in which electric shocks, beatings, and starvation were common. In some cases, women were killed publicly in the streets to scare others into obedience. One of the most feared places was al-Khatuniyya prison near Mosul. It became known as a holding site for Yazidi women.
Survivors later said that fighters would come and choose women from the cells, treating them like items in storage. Some women were taken out at night and never returned. Very few managed to escape, and those who did carried the memories of screams and suffering that haunted them for life. By 2016, as ISIS began losing territory, the group grew more desperate and started using women as suicide bombers.
This was a major shift because, at first, ISIS leaders had banned women from fighting. But as their power crumbled, they saw women as another resource to use. Some of these bombers were foreign wives of fighters, women who had traveled from Europe, North Africa, or Asia to join the group. They were convinced that dying in an explosion was an honor.
But many others were captives, forced into suicide missions. Fighters would strap explosive vests onto them and order them to walk into crowded areas, promising their families would be spared if they obeyed. In Mosul in 2017, as Iraqi forces pushed deeper into the city, women hiding among civilians suddenly detonated bombs.
They killed both soldiers and families who were trying to flee. These attacks shocked many because women were often seen as non-combatants. But under ISIS, even women and girls were turned into weapons. By 2017, the so-called ISIS caliphate was collapsing. In July 2017, Iraqi forces retook Mosul. Only a few months later, in October 2017, Raqqa fell to the Syrian Democratic Forces.
What had once been a vast territory stretching across Iraq and Syria was shrinking quickly. But as the group lost ground, the violence against women became even worse. Fighters who realized they could not win turned their rage on the most vulnerable. Some captives were executed in the streets.
Others were locked inside houses that were then blown up or left to collapse under airstrikes. Survivors later said that women were sometimes buried alive in rubble, with no chance to escape. The very last battle came in Baghouz in March 2019. This small village in eastern Syria became ISIS’s final stand.
When the stronghold fell, thousands of women and children poured out of the ruins, surrendering to advancing forces. Many were widows of fighters, still dressed in black robes. Others were Yazidi girls and women who had been enslaved for years. They were thin, traumatized, and carried children born in captivity. After the fall, camps like al-Hol in Syria quickly filled up.
Inside, there were three groups of women, including those who had survived slavery, the wives of dead or captured fighters, and children who had known nothing but war. The camps became overcrowded, with poor food, little medical care, and constant tension. Some women still loyal to ISIS tried to enforce the group’s strict rules, while survivors of slavery just wanted to go home.
The caliphate was gone, but its damage remained as thousands of women were left in limbo. Yazidi survivors faced the hardest road. By 2020, over 2,800 Yazidi women and children were still missing. Many were never found. Those who escaped returned home with deep trauma. In some cases, families welcomed them. In others, they faced stigma and were blamed for what happened.
Some children born to ISIS fathers were rejected by both the Yazidi and the Muslim communities. Foreign women ended up in camps. Countries debated what to do with them. Some were stripped of citizenship, like Shamima Begum from the UK. Others were put on trial in their homelands. For many, the nightmare never ended.
