The role of women in political fights is a tale as old as time. From the Old Testament to the pro-life movement, women have played an indispensable part in crushing the head of the enemy, swaying public opinion, and offering wise guidance. The work of such women is often revealed when godly men abandon their duty to lead and protect those entrusted to them. Perhaps this is one reason why the recent death sentence of Iranian Kurdish civil activist Pakhshan Azizi has sparked widespread protests by human rights activists.

Azizi is the third woman, following Wrisha Moradi and Sharifeh Mohammadi, to receive the death penalty for alleged “armed rebellion” in the last month alone. Indeed, in 2023, Iran executed 834 political opponents in hopes of quelling dissent against the Islamic Republic. At least 22 of these prisoners were women, making Iran the country with the highest female execution rate. If current trends continue, this year will be no different.

Azizi’s current predicament began in 2009 when she was arrested at Tehran University for protesting the unfair execution of political prisoners. Ironic, right? She was released on bail after four months in detention. Still, the political threats continued. Sensing that Iranian officials had placed a target on her back, she left the country for humanitarian work in Iraq and Syria, where she focused on people displaced by ISIS. Statements from Azizi’s family and legal counsel variously describe her as a humanitarian worker, a journalist, and a lecturer in women’s studies. Azizi’s second, and final, arrest by Iranian authorities occurred in August 2023 when she returned home to visit family.

So, what is it about Azizi and other female political prisoners that captures international attention? Perhaps it’s their relative rarity. Many more men than women are executed, at a ratio of 17 to 1. Yet it is the stories of women who suffer due to their social and political engagement that elicit the strongest response. This is because there is a distinct way and reason that women fight compared to men. Yes, women and men are called to work together to further the cultural mandate and the Great Commission. But when women, not men, are at the forefront of the battle or suffer the greatest harm, it suggests that the situation is not only bad but really bad.

Azizi’s story, and dozens of women like her in Iran, allow us to reflect on the broader Biblical theme of how women fight, especially when those in authority over them fail. Unlike their male counterparts, wise women of the Bible never grasp a sword to fight, but they are often credited with the victory. They embody tactics such as righteous deception, foresight, wise counsel, strategic use of household objects to crush the head of the enemy, and a loving embrace of marriage, motherhood, and domestic life.

Jael is an excellent example of these principles in action.

Judges 4–5 describes the day when Jael looked out from her tent and saw Sisera, the commander of the army of King Jabin, Israel’s enemy, stumbling toward her. Faced with the failures of her husband and tribe, who sided against God’s people, Jael called Sisera from afar and entreated him to rest in her tent. Although he asked for water, she deftly gave him milk and a soft place to rest. As soon as he fell asleep, Jael drove a tent peg through his head, swiftly defeating Israel’s enemy.

What stands out to me about this story is that when Jael drove the tent peg through the evil commander’s head, she was not in alien territory, as I note in a recent essay for the Eikon journal:

“Setting up and taking down tents was a feminine duty; she had likely driven tent pegs into hard patches of earth hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Jael was not only engaged in political affairs—able to recognize and engage with [Sisera]—but she used foresight and wit to carry out this task in a distinctly feminine manner.”

God used her through her daily work—primarily located in the home—to achieve His victory. Similar stories may be told of Deborah, Esther, Ruth, Tamar, the woman of Thebez, and many other wise women of the Bible.

Azizi’s family describes her innocence in a similar light. “She has never held a gun,” they said. They added that she went to Syria to serve as a social worker and to volunteer her service there. Despite the failures of Iran’s political regime, Azizi embodied a distinctly feminine form of resistance. She did not take up arms but devoted her life to serving those harmed by a radical regime and reminding those in authority above her of their duty toward their people. That is not armed rebellion—that is telling the truth.