Our new report ‘I want a safe place: Refugee women from Syria uprooted and unprotected in Lebanon’ reveals that Syrian refugee women don’t feel safe in Lebanon. Here are four reasons why, and four possible solutions.

1. Refugee women are often threatened and sexually harassed in public

Amnesty recently interviewed 65 Syrian refugee women in Lebanon. Some told us that men offer them money or help in exchange for sex, knowing that most refugees live in deep poverty. Others said they had been threatened, including with weapons.

Almost all the women we spoke to said they are constantly sexually harassed in public by neighbours, bus and taxi drivers, strangers in the street and sometimes even police officers and government employees.

“I feel threatened financially, psychologically and emotionally. My life pattern has changed. The way I do my hair has changed and I have to dress differently. Everyone approaches me to go with them in exchange for money. [Once] I was almost kidnapped. [Another time] someone said that they would give me money for rent in return for marriage. I say to them: ‘Who gives you the right to speak to me like this?” Reem, 28, Beirut

2. Many refugee women are supporting their families alone

Lebanon now hosts more refugees per capita than any other country in the world. Most have fled the violent civil war in neighbouring Syria. They live in tents, abandoned buildings, or rented accommodation because no new refugee camps have been set up.

One in five Syrian refugee households has a woman in charge. Some are widows, others divorced, or have husbands who have chosen to stay in Syria. Many simply don’t know where their husbands are: disappearances remain a terrifying fact of life in Syria, with 58,148 people vanishing at the hands of the government between March 2011 and August 2015. Around 90% were men.

“I came to Lebanon in 2013 alone with my children. My husband disappeared in Syria. I live in a tent with 10 people – we are three widows with our children. Every month I have to pay rent for my tent. The landlord won’t wait [for payment] so sometimes I have to beg. I just want to go back to Syria.” Rajaa, 50, eastern Lebanon.

3. Without residence permits, refugee women are easy targets

Today, one in four people in Lebanon is a Syrian refugee. In January 2015, Lebanon’s government made it more complicated and expensive for refugees to renew their residence permits. Without these legal documents, refugees are considered to be breaking Lebanese law.

Many refugee women told us not having a valid residence permit was a key reason for not reporting harassment to the Lebanese authorities. Refugees who can’t afford the US$200 to renew their permits live in constant fear of being arrested and detained or deported back to Syria. This makes them easy to take advantage of.

“[Without a valid permit] I am afraid to go out, and I’m afraid to cross checkpoints. I have to go to Beirut for hospital appointments for my daughter every 15 days. She has a rare medical condition. A Lebanese man told me he would help me [get] official documents, but in exchange he wanted to spend the night with me. I felt really disturbed and upset because the general view of Syrians is that we are cheap.” Aisha, 33, eastern Lebanon.

4. Without humanitarian aid, poverty is getting worse

Governments around the world have promised financial support to overwhelmed host countries like Lebanon, but it’s not enough. In 2015, the UN received just 57 per cent of the funds needed to support refugees in Lebanon. Many of the women we met either had their monthly UN food support payment stopped, or substantially reduced to just US$21.60 per person. That works out as US$0.72 a day – well below the UN’s global poverty line of US$1.90. Women say that that employers, who know refugees without residence permits are unlikely to report them, deliberately pay very low wages – or not pay at all. They also live in fear of landlords suddenly increasing their rent or kicking entire families out with no notice.

“Landlords will kick you out of the house if you are one or two days late with the rent. I work and receive some aid, but it’s not enough. My 16-year-old daughter is very tall and looks older. Men come to me proposing to marry her, but I don’t want that. I want her to finish her education even though she hasn’t had the chance here.” Hanan, 38, Beirut.

Four solutions that would help refugee women right now

Refugee women and girls in Lebanon are staying strong in the face of intense pressure but they need protection and support right now.

To help improve the lives of refugee women and girls in Lebanon and Syria, the Australian Government must:

• Increase assistance to countries hosting refugees and accelerate the resettlement of Syrians in Australia
• Support humanitarian assistance and help human rights monitors reach vulnerable people on the ground
• Make sure the Syrian Government and opposition groups stop all attacks on the Syrian people and act within international law
  Take all possible steps to avoid harming Syrian people during military operations.

During war and conflict, crisis researcher Joanne Mariner is the first on the ground to gather evidence of serious human rights crimes. She tells us how your support makes her life-changing work possible.

1. Training

2. Preparation

“First of all, I buy a good, detailed map! Then I read everything that has been published about the country – from Amnesty, other human rights organisations, the UN, and the press.”

3. Essential kit

“I’ll bring a first aid kit, anti-malaria drugs, and satellite phone, local phone and UK phone, as communications are so important. I’ll also pack a still camera, video camera, and a GPS tracker so colleagues can track my location.”

4. Security

“I talk with a lot of people on the ground to work out where not to go, what roads to avoid, when to travel. For example, they might tell us not to drive a particular type of car as it’s a favourite for car-jacking. In some situations, there are serious risks – of getting shot, hit by a mortar, kidnapped, killed…”

5. Transport

“In some countries, for example the Central African Republic, I usually just travel with a driver. Often the roads outside major towns can be terrible so we use a four-wheel drive. I’ve been in a few difficult situations because there can be robbers on the road, and it can be scary.”

6. Interviewing witnesses

“We always get first-hand testimony. After a massacre, you have an obligation to document exactly what happened. I ask people to detail the circumstances, the basic who, what, when and where. ‘What did you see?’ ‘What were they wearing?’ ‘Who was shooting?’”

7. Film and photography

“We don’t repeat rumours, we get testimonial, written documentation and forensic evidence.

Joanne Mariner

8. Reporting

“We describe exactly what happened, characterize and analyse the crimes that have been committed, and make recommendations for reform. We’re not criminal investigators, but we’re just as rigorous. Our goal is to provide real-time documentation, to hold people to account and get justice for the victims.”

9. Press and media

“In breaking news situations, we’ll tweet out news, speak with journalists, put out press releases, and write blogs, opinion pieces and briefing papers. It’s so important to show the world what’s going on and create pressure on governments to act.”

10. Advocacy and campaigning

“We put in a huge effort to ensure our recommendations for reform are enacted. We meet with UN and government officials across the world to explain the need for urgent action.”

Live updates

For the latest from the frontline of human rights, follow Joanne @jgmariner and her colleague Donatella Rovera @DRovera on Twitter. Follow Tirana from Amnesty’s crisis team at @TiranaHassan.

Omar, a refugee from Syria, was just 12 years old when he accidentally arrived alone in Sweden. It took months of tears and worry, emails and phone calls before his parents and big brother could join him. As Denmark proposes delaying family reunification for up to five years, their story shows why the right to a family life is worth fighting for.

“I slept in jeans, not pyjamas,” says Maha Khadour, Omar’s mother (pictured above), recalling the summer of 2012 when bombs starting falling on their neighbourhood in Syria. “You just didn’t know when you’d have to flee.”

Despite being a veterinarian, not a doctor, her husband Mohannad gave medical help to injured neighbours who feared being arrested if they sought help at a public hospital. When rumours started circulating that the government was looking for Mohannad, he and Maha fled with their two sons, Ali, now aged 19, and Omar, now 14, to neighbouring Turkey.

Alone in Stockholm airport

Frustrated, the family tried twice to fly to Europe. But without an EU entry visa, they were stopped twice. Finally, Mohannad tried a third time with Omar and a woman smuggler who pretended to be his mother. Mohannad was stopped again by Turkish police, but Omar passed under the radar.

It wasn’t until hours later, when Omar found himself completely alone in Stockholm airport, that he realized his dad hadn’t made it.

“It was horrible,” his mum says. “I sent the Swedish embassy hundreds of emails saying: ‘Please, my son is there, I have to go to him.’ He was just 12 years old.”

“It wasn’t until hours later, when Omar found himself completely alone in Stockholm airport, that he realized his dad hadn’t made it.” Maha, Omar’s mum

Reunited

Four months later, Omar got his residence permit and the right to be reunited with his family – guaranteed by both international and European law. In August 2014, his parents and older brother finally joined him.

Arriving in Sweden, some things felt surprisingly familiar: “When we came to Uddevalla [a town in south-western Sweden], my husband and sons laughed at me,” says Maha, “because every now and then I’d say: ‘Look at this grass, look at that mountain – it’s the same as in my village [in Syria].”

“…every now and then I’d say: ‘Look at this grass, look at that mountain – it’s the same as in my village [in Syria].”

MAHA, OMAR’S MUM

“I started working as an English teacher and it was wonderful. I feel better when I can teach children. My husband is still studying Swedish. It’s harder for him – he worked as a veterinarian for 20 years and is an expert in his field. To work here he has to study the language for three years, then go to university for another two years.”

Walking from Greece to Germany

Maha and her family have recently made room for two more people in their small apartment. Their young niece, Rahaf, aged five, and her big brother Noor, 19, have arrived after a dangerous and lonely journey through Europe on foot.

“It took them 20 days,” says Maha. “Rahaf is five years old – she shouldn’t have to walk from Greece to Germany.”

“It was an awful experience for her – she’s always talking about the police,” she continues. “They were afraid of the police in all the countries they went through. I tell her that the police here helps you. But she’s still afraid.”

The gruelling journey Rahaf and Noor were forced to undertake is a symptom of a much bigger problem: For most refugees, despite their right to seek asylum and get protection abroad, getting to Europe safely and legally is now almost impossible.

The human right to a family life

In the chaos of the global refugee crisis, close relatives end up separated for many reasons. For them, family reunification is one of the few legal ways they can be together again. “I wouldn’t have been able to go to Sweden if my son wasn’t already there,” Maha says.

“I wouldn’t have been able to go to Sweden if my son wasn’t already there.”

Maha

But now, even the human right to a family life comes under attack, as Denmark proposes legal changes that could force close relatives to wait up to five years to see each other again. This is despite research showing that family support is crucial for refugees, helping people deal with trauma and integrate in new societies.

And the harder it gets for refugees to find protection abroad, the more people will be forced to go through hell – walking for weeks in the freezing cold and risking their lives in inflatable boats – to find safety.

Dreams for the future

Maha thinks the current situation is “insane”: “If these governments could do one thing, at least they could help people to come here normally.”

“If these governments could do one thing, at least they could help people to come here normally.”

Maha

“My dream for the future is to go back to my country,” she says. “At night I dream about going back to these villages I loved. And sometimes I think about how many relatives I have lost in this conflict. Almost all of them are dead.”

“And I think a lot about what you can do to make real change. Maybe that’s what makes me want to be a teacher so strongly. I know that what I teach a child today, she will make use of tomorrow. And that’s good. Maybe it’s one way to create change.”