War and economic crisis eliminate women’s jobs first, deepening poverty, financial dependence, and exposure to domestic violence.
War has a male face, partly because most soldiers are men and because, throughout history, warfare has been understood as a masculine activity. Accounts of courage, death, and injury in war are all organised around the language of manhood.
During war, other concerns are pushed aside in the name of survival. Staying alive and making it through become all that matters. Attention and resources are directed first towards those assigned to military defence, while other forms of suffering are pushed into the background.
In his book War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, Chris Hedges writes about the painful and ugly realities of war:
“When we come under fire, we are humiliated. Abstract words such as ‘glory,’ ‘honour,’ and ‘courage’ often prove shameful and hollow in war. They are replaced by concrete images: the names of villages, mountains, roads, and military units that mean nothing to an outsider, but carry tremendous emotional power and terror for those trapped in war’s grip.”
Only after the fighting subsides do war’s wounds become fully visible. Unemployment, violence at home and in the workplace, displacement, depression, and profound economic anxiety all leave their marks on the body and psyche of society.
One of the most consequential developments during and after the war has been mass layoffs and the loss of employment for large sections of the workforce. But this is not the whole story.
The most disturbing indication came from the vice-president for women and family affairs, who said:
“Of all the unemployment-insurance claims registered during these 40 days, approximately one-third concern women. This is a very high figure, particularly given that women’s participation in formal employment is already much lower than men’s.”
The statement appeared in an April 25, 2026 report by Fararu.
Why have so many women lost their jobs amid the severe economic conditions following the war? Why is women’s share of the post-war unemployment crisis disproportionately high, and what consequences does this have for their lives?
Women’s Subordination in the Labour Market
Reports published by Iranian media show that during the twelve-day and thirty-nine-day wars, the greatest number of lost employment opportunities were in jobs previously held by women heads of households.
Most of these jobs were informal, uninsured, paid by the day, and offered no security for the future. Under such conditions, it is not even possible to produce accurate statistics on the number of people who have become unemployed. Their situation becomes visible only through the ever-expanding poverty encountered face-to-face across society.
In the formal labour market, meanwhile, the dominant stereotype of the “male breadwinner” means that women are laid off earlier and in greater numbers than men. This stereotype treats women’s employment as less necessary than men’s.
Simin Kazemi, a sociologist, explains:
“These stereotypes, which present women’s employment as less essential than men’s, mean that women are the first to be sacrificed when employers reduce their workforce. In the collective and public imagination, women are still not regarded as the ‘breadwinners’ of their families. This is despite the fact that women head 22.5 per cent of Iranian households—and these households are among the poorest and most vulnerable in society.”
According to Kazemi, these women generally occupy the lowest levels of the employment hierarchy. During crises such as war, they suffer the most, lose their jobs first, and become unable to meet basic needs such as food, healthcare, and housing.
But women heads of households are not the only ones affected. Across social and occupational categories, women are often among the first to be affected by workforce reductions.
Middle-class women employed in positions equivalent to those of their male colleagues are also more likely to lose their jobs first. Unemployment damages their social standing, destroys their economic independence, and forces them into financial dependence on their families. Depression, unemployment, and lack of money subsequently impose numerous psychological and social pressures upon them.
Women who were previously employed but are forced to become financially dependent on male relatives may be particularly vulnerable. The loss of an independence they once possessed can expose them to greater harm than women who were already unemployed and financially dependent. It can also make domestic violence more likely.
Parisa is a woman in her thirties from Kashan. After completing her education in Tehran, she remained in the capital and rented an apartment with a friend. She worked for a small medical-supplies company.
The company closed for almost a month during Nowruz and the war. When Parisa returned to work, she discovered that her name was on the list of dismissed employees.
After repeated appeals and desperate attempts to keep her job led nowhere, she and her friend decided to start a small home business making costume jewellery. But internet shutdowns, their lack of experience and access to a market, and the fact that jewellery was hardly a purchasing priority during such a severe economic crisis meant that the business also failed. The attempt consumed what little capital they had.
Eventually, they had to leave their apartment after falling several months behind on the rent.
Parisa says:
“I’m going back to my family. At least I’ll have a roof over my head there, but I’ll definitely become a burden on my brothers, who are already struggling to support their own families.”
She says that after her divorce, living in a small town had become difficult for her. Now she must return to where she began, having lost all the financial and social independence she had built.
Women Are Concentrated in Informal Employment
According to a report by Donya-e Eqtesad, “out of every 100 working-age women, only around 12 to 25 enter the active labour market, while the corresponding figure for men is more than two-thirds of the working-age population.”
Against this background, the post-war rise in women’s unemployment takes on a deeper significance. It exposes the structural divide underlying “one of the most persistent inequalities in Iran’s labour market.”
A recurring pattern emerges during periods of crisis: women are pushed out of formal employment and towards informal work. This is followed by greater job insecurity, the expansion of poverty among women, damaging consequences for household economies—particularly for children—and, ultimately, an increase in domestic violence.
Disaggregated figures from the Statistical Centre of Iran show that “more than 60 to 65 per cent of women’s employment is concentrated in the service sector, primarily in small-scale businesses, retail, personal services, and activities requiring little capital.”
This sector is highly vulnerable to economic recession, declining purchasing power, and external shocks.
The jobs available to women—particularly women heads of households, women with limited education, and women from lower social classes—are heavily concentrated in this sector. Employment in services therefore often means facing an extremely fragile occupational future.
In addition, “Iran’s gender pay gap is estimated at approximately 20 to 30 per cent.”
Although gender pay gaps exist in most countries, comparative data from the World Bank and the International Labour Organization estimate women’s average global economic-participation rate at around 40 per cent. In Iran, the figure is only approximately 12 to 15 per cent.
These figures appeared in Donya-e Eqtesad’s June 24, 2026 report, “The Alarming State of Women’s Employment in Iran: High Unemployment Is Feminising Poverty.”
They demonstrate that this is not merely an economic problem. It is an expression of women’s institutionalised subordination within society—a subordination that shapes the structure of the labour market, the kinds of work available to women, and their access to employment opportunities.
Even in formal office jobs, women are far less likely than men to be promoted to management positions within their departments.
In recent years, app-based driving has joined the range of informal jobs available to women, alongside traditional service work such as domestic cleaning, caring for children and elderly people, home-based businesses, and online marketing.
At first glance, women’s entry into driving—a profession previously almost entirely controlled by men—might appear to represent a welcome expansion of employment opportunities. A closer look, however, reveals that women have gained access primarily to the informal and least secure part of the sector.
Women are legally permitted to work as licensed city taxi drivers. Yet customary restrictions have acquired the force of unwritten law, making it far more difficult for women than men to enter the profession. Their chances of being employed by municipal bus companies are similarly limited.
Licensed city taxi driving is a form of formal, company-based employment. City taxis receive a defined monthly petrol allowance of 400 litres, whereas support for app-based drivers is calculated according to distance travelled and provided as a cash credit. Licensed taxi drivers may also receive social-insurance coverage and enjoy greater job security than those working through ride-hailing platforms.
Women have therefore gained access primarily to the informal and less secure section of the driving sector, leaving them with an uncertain occupational future and deepening their subordinate position in society.
Their disadvantaged position in the labour market also restricts their access to loans and other sources of capital, further deepening that disadvantage—particularly for women heads of households.
Tayebeh lives in a marginalised neighbourhood on the outskirts of Mashhad. For a time, she sold clothes and small household items from her father-in-law’s garage.
After the war began, however, she was no longer able to order goods from Chabahar, where her supplies had previously originated. Her debts continued to accumulate. Her father-in-law, unhappy that his garage was being occupied without generating income for his son’s household, eventually took back the card-payment terminal he had provided to his daughter-in-law.
Tayebeh says:
“Now I don’t know whether I should shut the business down altogether or hold on a little longer in the hope that things improve and I can start selling again and repay my debts.”
Asked whether the small income had made any real difference, she says:
“It meant that I didn’t have to ask my husband for money for my own expenses or for the little things the children needed. When his financial situation is bad, he becomes irritable and beats the children.”
Tayebeh has now lost even the small amount of money that once covered her personal expenses.
Despite all the deficiencies of women’s employment, layoffs remain especially consequential for women who have struggled to establish careers.
S. M. has worked as a journalist for an Iranian newspaper for more than 20 years, yet she has accumulated only around three years of social-insurance contributions. In other words, most of the publications that employed her never insured her.
She says that whenever she asked to be registered for social insurance, the newspaper’s management told her explicitly that it had no objection—but that she would have to pay the contributions herself.
To receive insurance coverage, she would therefore have had to surrender almost half her salary to cover what should have been the employer’s share.
After the war, she was among those dismissed.
She says:
“After the war ended, the newspaper’s management said nothing. They simply wrote the names of the dismissed employees on a whiteboard and terminated the employment of four women working at the newspaper.”
What particularly angered the journalist was the management’s refusal to provide the dismissed employees with formal termination letters.
Had they received these documents, they could have claimed unemployment benefits and used the six-month period covered by those benefits to search for new work.
She believes the newspaper refused to issue the letters because its management feared that the dismissed employees might file legal complaints. The documents would have had to state the salaries they had received. Because the journalists had been paid less than the minimum required under labour law, the termination letters could have served as evidence in a legal case.
After the journalists repeatedly requested the documents, the newspaper’s management eventually said that it would provide them only if each employee signed a promissory note for an amount determined by the management.
None of the four journalists agreed because they regarded the demand as unlawful. As a result, none of them received a termination letter.
For Parisa, Tayebeh, and the four dismissed journalists, unemployment is not simply the loss of a wage. It means losing housing, autonomy, legal protection, and the limited power they had to resist dependence and violence.
Iran remains a long way from a situation in which women can obtain their rightful share of employment and economic resources. The patriarchal assumption that women should not be prioritised for work remains dominant, while the hardships created by political and social unrest are added to the inequalities women already face—a crushing burden they carry with great difficulty.
Yet women have demonstrated in recent years that they are capable of bringing about profound social transformation—if the struggle for bread allows them.
