The determination to live free

In memory of the martyr Deniz Ciya.

On 10^th of January 2026 fascists threw the dead body of a fighter from a building in the Kurdish neighborhoods of Aleppo. They turned it into a meme. Ugly laughter. But that is not what I want to write about today. Instead, I want to write about the fighter and the strength of a woman that they will never overcome.

Her name is Deniz Ciya. A name that shall not be forgotten. To tell her story is something precious to me. We spent many months together - we laughed , danced, and searched for how we want to live together.

On January 10, 2026, in Sheikh Maqsoud, Ṣehid Deniz decided together with four other fighters of the internal security forces to become immortal rather than fall into the hands of the enemy. In the defense of the neighborhoods, they fought until their last bullet. They kept their very last explosive for themselves and used it on themselves so as not to fall alive into the hands of the jihadists. Like all people of North and East Syria, they know firsthand how jihadists mutilate, rape, and murder.

Ṣehid Deniz was the commander of this unit. Her actions and her person are inseparably linked to the resistance of Aleppo. She was only nineteen years old, and yet it does not surprise me to see her as a commander. If anyone was able to encourage everyone around her to always give their best and to be fully present, it was her—especially when she was fighting for her city, Aleppo, and for her society.

Even before she decided to fight with a weapon, she sang and danced in Aleppo’s art and culture groups. She took this love of music with her everywhere and shared it with us. I can see her, hours on end, immersed in her diaries with music in her ears. Or turning the music up loud and calling all of us together to practice traditional Kurdish and Arab dances. Very often I stumbled more than I danced alongside her, but she always encouraged me to keep dancing until I finally mastered it.

We spent many nights side by side, watching the stars together and sharing our thoughts. When supplies at our location became very scarce for a time, we shared a diary—she one page, I one page—so that in the end we could read them aloud to each other. She almost always wrote about her friends: who they were and what they experienced. She never told only her own story, but always that of others as well—the different languages and different lives that had brought us into this struggle; together we fought for a world as diverse as we ourselves were.

Ṣehid Deniz carried this diversity within her. Her mother came from Afrin; her father was Arab. She grew up both in Aleppo and in Damascus. She was proud to have both Kurdish and Arab roots. She was deeply connected to the history of her country and to the coexistence of its people. Shaped by this diverse society, she never set herself apart; she was always, in a completely natural way, an inseparable part of the whole. Her personality carried internationalism within it. Tirelessly, she translated between different languages and people. When I read my first Kurdish book, she sat next to me and patiently explained every unfamiliar word.

She sang songs from many different cultures. Her favorite song was Berxwedan xweş doz e, a song about the beauty of resistance in the mountains of Kurdistan. She loved animals and nature. She could sit by the fire for hours. As soon as an animal was nearby, it had her full attention. When she observed animals, she forgot everything around her. She always stood for life. When I see the images of the abuse of her lifeless body that were published, the cruelty of fascism shocks me. But it will always be this beauty of life that I see in her. That is what she fought for—a free life.

The names we carry in revolutionary struggle are of special significance. They are the names of friends whose legacy we carry forward. Ṣehid Deniz grew up in a strong culture of resistance. As a child, she had encountered a fighter from Northern Kurdistan who bore the name Deniz. She often spoke about the great footprints this friend had left behind and about how contagious her energy was.

Şehid Deniz Kawyan Amad fought against ISIS in Shengal and became the commander of a Yazidi women’s unit there. With this unit of Yazidi women, she took part in the liberation of the city of Raqqa from ISIS. During the defense of the city of Afrin against the invasion by the Turkish army, she gave her life for the future of her country. Her life and her stance in those difficult hours deeply shaped many people in Afrin. The pain and resistance of Afrin are burned so deeply into the soul of this land; in every second, in every place, in every friend, one can feel them. Ṣehid Deniz Çiya was still a child at that time. But in Rojava, to be a child of war also means to be a child of resistance, of revolution. Like so many other very young friends, they carry this energy forward and ignite it in new friends.

Ṣehid Deniz Çiya became a commander in this struggle for her homeland—for the defense of a free life. Her energy carries us all along, not into dream worlds but into the here and now. She gave her surroundings a sense of security and entered the struggle with everything she had. And she was never alone, but always in connection.

You wanted to fully honor your friend Deniz Kawyan Amad. You always spoke about that. Dear Ṣehid Deniz, you did. You have left deep traces in all of us. In us burns the rage to avenge the atrocities committed against you. You are a role model for us in connecting with one another and building bridges. We will continue your struggle. Never will we forget you, your determination, and your dreams.

We feel the strength you give us—your determination never to look away and always to fight for life. To conclude with your last words:

“The enemies—those who, with a jihadist ideology, pose a great danger to the entire world and the peoples of the region, especially to women—have surrounded us with heavy tanks. A very large number of gangs are attacking us. Up to now we have resisted them in many different ways, but now we are using the ammunition we have with caution so that it does not run out. It is necessary that all our friends and our people know that we will fight until our last breath, no matter what happens. Calls for surrender are being made to us, but just as Zarîfe and Besêyan threw themselves from the cliffs of Dersim, as Rindêxan ended his life at the Malabadi Bridge and gave meaning to life, we too will never take a step back from resistance. Now each and every one of us has a bomb with us. If we know that our last ammunition is exhausted, we will—five comrades together—carry out a self-sacrificing action against the occupying enemy who has committed every kind of atrocity against our people and our comrades. Whatever happens, nothing is more important than protecting the honor of our people. Those who do not face death at the decisive moment cannot become the breath of a free life.”

Şehid Namirin — the fallen are immortal.