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Aniya: a sister in the struggle

by Hindha Ismail

Aniya carried within her a deeply profound sense of commitment and duty. To the community, to her family, and to the world she wanted to leave better than she found it. Even as illness began to take its toll, she refused to yield. I had the honour of working with her to the end. Unyielding, purposeful, and unwavering in her devotion until her body finally demanded that she rest. 

I first met Aniya in the bustling offices of the Maldivian Democratic Party. She was the Deputy Secretary General, and it was my third year running the Maldivian Detainee Network. Her request that day was simple but urgent – how could the party organise itself so that it could help MDN support people arrested from the protests? Many of those detainees were party members or generally, democracy supporters. That question, posed with her usual clarity and conviction, was the start of something far greater than a working relationship. It was the beginning of a friendship, a shared purpose, and a bond that transcended politics and organisations.

To this day, I have not known another Maldivian who gave as much of herself to survivors of torture and to detainees as Aniya did. Her commitment was not an occasional gesture. It was the core of who she was. She found ways to connect with prisoners. Until the day she lay down, she called me every few weeks asking to help someone in prison.

At that first meeting in Male’, the country was still under the last, desperate years of Maumoon Abdul Gayyoom’s thirty-year dictatorship. Change was coming, but those who had clung to power for decades were using every tool within their reach to crush it. The police were their most brutal instrument. Armed with impunity, they descended on peaceful protests, beating, arresting, and dragging people away. Every day, dozens were detained. Yet from within that darkness of fear and pain, Aniya saw light.

She radiated hope. It wasn’t naive hope, but the kind that comes from understanding the cost of freedom and still choosing to fight for it. Her anticipation for change was contagious, moving us to work harder, to take risks. She reminded us that we were finally approaching the moment when Gayyoom could no longer gag the people while he drained our country dry. Our people would no longer “vanish” behind bars. The world would know about what happened inside detention centres and prisons. She had so much hope for our country. For the parents and children no one spoke of. She dreamed of freedom for the thousands of young people languishing in prisons. Of a country that would listen to its people.

Marking one year since we lost Aniya, Humay described Aniya, rightfully, as “a woman warrior. A mother, teacher, educator, journalist, broadcaster, pro-democracy activist, human rights defender, women’s rights defender, defender of the media and the constitutional right to freedom of expression.”

I will add some more. Aniya was the voice of this nation, quite literally, for thousands of listeners of Minivan Radio across the country. She brought the truth to the people at a time when it was thought impossible. She single-handedly ran and hosted the radio that the people loved, and the government hated. It was no small feat. Young and old alike, so many of us waited for her voice every day. Her unconventional style, her quick wit with Ahmed on air, their exchanges a mix of fondness and sharp political banter, and her unflinching choice to speak about what no one else dared to. Everything about her radio programs was something to look forward to.

When Ahmed Rilwan was abducted and disappeared in August 2014, it was personal for her. “Rilwan is not only a fellow journalist to me. He could have been my son, my brother”. She was heartbroken and angry, full of questions and frustration. From the day MDN released the results of our private investigation into his disappearance, she read the report on her radio station every single day for years. She vowed to keep Rilwan’s story alive, and she did. With Aniya gone, one seldom hears about what happened to Rilwan anymore.

She was, to me, a sister who chose me as her family. When MDN was attacked and so many turned their backs, Aniya stayed. She checked in, she guided me, she reminded me of my own strength. I still hear her voice: “No one will defend you if it means taking a risk to do it. The truth won’t matter to them. You must defend yourself this time.”  She recalled how she was abandoned by everyone after she was targeted by religious radicals back in 2007. Despite everything, Aniya’s commitment never wavered. She carried the weight of the struggle with grace and determination, year after year. But in 2022, even her unshakable spirit met its breaking point. She could no longer reconcile herself with the way President Ibrahim Mohamed Solih had diminished the sacrifices of thousands of her fellow party members and supporters. To her, it was not merely a political disappointment. It was a betrayal of the very people whose sweat, tears, and hope had built the movement.

Aniya lived her life in defiance of silence. She loved her people fiercely, fought for them relentlessly, and left behind a voice that will echo long after her absence. May Aniya receive an eternal place in Jannah.

Honouring Aniya – in memorium (1966 – 2023)

Independent, principled, uncompromising, fearless and fiercely committed. These are just a few adjectives to describe the amazing qualities of one of the most formidable women activists in the Maldivian media, politics and public life. She is the unforgettable and admirable Maldivian woman warrior, Aishath Aniya. Gone at 57.

Aniya sadly departed the battlefield of our earthly persisterhood on 20 August 2023 after a short illness, succumbing to cancer. One year has passed since her passing. The silence of her absence resounds in the Maldives, especially among those who value her unwavering qualities and inimitable contribution in a conservative, patriarchal, misogynistic and increasingly hostile environment to women – especially those in public life.

She is a woman warrior that must go into the country’s history books, for she fought on many fronts. As a mother, teacher, educator, journalist, broadcaster, pro-democracy activist, human rights defender, women’s rights defender and a staunch defender of the media and our constitutional rights to freedom of expression and assembly. Her social and political activism spanned across fast-moving historical changes in the Maldives in the early 2000s. From deadly authoritarian persecution and dictatorship to the fleeting hopes of democracy in the late 2000s, and back again to the darkness of uncertainty, insecurity and instability in the present time. She invoked the wrath of political conservative ‘clerics’, becoming the target of their harassment for questioning the alleged requirement to wear the hijab for women in a nation that had an Islamic history for centuries without this practice.

Throughout these social, cultural and political convulsions, Aniya weathered the political scene with dedicated commitment to the Maldivian Democratic Party (MDP). She was an active party member, administrator and organiser, coordinating and managing women-led grass roots street protests for MDP during its toughest trials. She confronted state lawlessness and police brutality with fearless conviction and pragmatism, suffering imprisonment and the inhumanity of being strip-searched in police custody. None of this broke her formidable spirit as she continued to fight for her democratic beliefs, in the pursuit of human rights, dignity and freedom. She fought with her body, her voice and her pen. Despite this commitment, Aniya found herself compelled to leave MDP a few months before her passing. She could no longer recognise what it stood for as the party became riddled with infighting among its leadership. She was always the principled woman. Like many loyal party members, leaving MDP is something she never imagined she would have to do. But that is the present reality of the landscape of democracy in the Maldives, which Aniya was a foundational part for at least two decades of her life, cut short too soon by cancer.

Through the toughest and most insecure times for journalists in the Maldives in the early 2000s, Aniya worked for the pro-democracy newspaper Minivan News. During the 2010s, the Maldives moment for democratic hopes rose briefly and fell back into authoritarian regression. At this time, Aniya held together a radio station, Minivan Radio, that continued to provide the public with sharp critiques of a lawless government with institutions operating with impunity against dissenters. Under great personal threats from the most unsavoury and dangerous operators in the Maldives’ political scene, rampant with conservative Islamism and political gangsterism, Aniya chose to forge ahead, unfazed.

Subsequently, when the space for independent media shrank further, Aniya took to the social media application Clubhouse where she curated a space and gathered a loyal audience to whom she provided her analysis and insights into the day’s politics. She had no funders. She was always giving, not taking. Always principled in her deep belief in human dignity, freedom, humanity and love for the Maldives. Her country. Her people. She continued to fight the good fight, until she could no longer use her voice through illness. And then fell silent forever, a silence and loss still felt.

Aniya’s contribution to the Maldives political scene as a fearless critic of the establishment is undeniable, uncontestable and in my opinion, absolutely admirable. This is why her absence is so acutely felt as Maldives went to the polls to elect the country’s next government in September 2023. Aniya’s departure means that Maldivians, who relied on her sharp political analysis, are suddenly bereft of these insights.
The absence of her fearless vocabulary of dissent leaves our media weaker. Her capacity to call out those deserving such treatment in no uncertain terms, based on her deep knowledge and experience of the country’s socio-political landscape and its many questionable actors is an irreparable loss.

With her departure, Maldives has lost a national treasure. That is what Aniya’s loss means to me. She is irreplaceable. She left us too soon, too young, with too much still to do. I was hopeful that she could run for the Peoples’ Majlis in 2024. It is a place lacking principled, committed, fearless and good people like Aniya. But that is not to be.

Aniya leaves behind a family, children and grandchildren. She leaves behind many friends and compatriots who feel her absence and the unwelcome silence of a cherished dissenting voice of reason and humanity.
Thank you Aniya for all that you were and for all that you did, taught and gave to the Maldives.
You will always be remembered as an inspirational woman warrior of our time.


إِنَّا لِلَّهِ وَإِنَّآ إِلَيْهِ رَٰجِعُونَ

20 August 2024
Humay Abdulghafoor

Photo: Aniya protesting with a group of women outside Velaanaage government offices, calling for the resignation of the then head of the Civil Service Commission, Mohamed Fahmy Hassan, after allegations of sexual harassment against him came to light. 2012.

Maldives wants the pink dollar but hates gays

Azra Naseem

The multi-billion-dollar Maldivian tourism industry courts the global pink dollar and arranges symbolic same sex wedding ceremonies on its turquoise blue waters and beautiful sandy beaches. But, Maldivian society hates gays, and doesn’t want them to exist. There is no room in the Maldives for its homosexuals, and anyone on any arch of the LGBTQIA+ rainbow. They are to be exposed, thrown to a well-mobilised religious mob, walked through the streets of Male’ naked, lynched, then hung in the Republic Square for everyone to see, while they all chant ‘Allah Akbar’ before decapitating them. This is the ideal scenario. One Friday after prayers would be a good time. Or must they be thrown from one of the newly built high-rises, so they experience what the ISIS claimed as the most Islamic punishment for homosexuals?

Gay Maldivians exist. They always have. And they always will. As long as Maldivians exist. As ‘100 percent Muslim’ as every citizen must be, and as uniquely Dhivehi as they may be, they are also human. Officially being gay has been forbidden ever since recorded history began but unofficially homosexuality has, of course, existed on these isolated island communities as it does in the rest of the world. Muslim Maldives never openly tolerated “deviant” sex, but nor was it openly discussed or made the centrepiece in political and social affairs. Gay relationships happened between those who wanted it to happen, often between men who were married to women and bore children with them. Nobody spoke about it not only because it is illegal but also because learning of such a double life would hurt people around them, not just their wives and children but also the extended family. 

Only a few Maldivians through history have dared to be openly gay. Until quite recently society opted to treat the most camp among gay Maldivians as “weird”, mentally imbalanced, or the village eccentric. They were laughed at for being too effeminate or too manly, and ridiculed for the difference in their mannerisms to the ‘normal’ man or woman. Hanee, for example, was an excellent, popular and celebrated tailor, and was openly trans in the Maldives of the 1990s. As society grew more intolerant, Hanee’s troubles multiplied until their previously well-ordered self-sufficient life became unliveable, and they were jailed for crimes not directly related to gender and sexuality. I cannot imagine life would have been easy for any gay Maldivian in any time in history, as children laughed and adults sniggered or worse. But compared to how today’s society treats Maldivian homosexuals and any other sexual minority, the cruelty that gays of previous generations suffered seems less visceral, less driven by unadulterated hatred. 

The first violent attack on a gay man in recent history occurred in 2011, when Hilath Rasheed was almost decapitated outside his home. Hilath was a former journalist who was ‘too open’ about being gay. The attacker was never punished. Hilath was successfully hounded out of the Maldives, just escaping with his life. Religious conservatives have promoted homophobia openly and unabatedly ever since. Recently Eman was run out of society for dressing as a man. Having sought refuge in Australia they are now undergoing gender transition. Before that Medula Oblongata became a drag queen in New Zealand after he was run out of the Maldives for being queer. Despite the thousands of miles between these Maldivians and their home country, they still get harassed online, the calls to have them brought home and be punished grow louder with each wave of homophobia.

Gay Maldivians who have to remain in the country, meanwhile, are forced to lead a double life. Most remain silent, but many are also on social media, being homophobic themselves, or being bashed for promoting gay rights. Dhiyares newspaper recently hounded a young man out of the country for his Tweets which it found to be too gay friendly and offensive to Islam. The 23-year-old was using a fake name. Not only did the newspaper find out his true identity under what it calls investigative journalism, it also ‘exposed’ him as gay. The paper is now trying to point out who is to blame for letting the man get away safely. How dare a homosexual escape with their lives intact after such transgression? That cannot be. 

Maldivians want the spectacle of death to the sinner, a la Shari’a. They are baying for punishment. Arrest the dirty gays. Arrest the apostates. Arrest the yogis and the dancers and the lovers. Arrest those who are laughing too loud; arrest those who wish their mothers well on a particular day; arrest those who think. Maldivian society is no longer satisfied extending even the lowest possible level of compassion, that of mere tolerance, to its homosexuals and other sexual minorities. Instead, it lays traps for them, deliberately entices them into what is considered sinful behaviour and waits for them to fall. When they do, it is the religious duty of every ‘justifiably and suitably angry’ Maldivian Muslim to see these ‘dirty’ mududhaaru sinners punished. Society must see and enjoy their pain, in their death is the satisfaction of the righteous living.

Mind you, this is the same society which believes firmly in afterlife and Judgement Day. Aren’t they usurping the very powers they have vested in God alone?