To say this period feels surreal is an understatement. Every Syrian, including me, grew up being told the walls had ears. Dare to speak up, or so much as suggest a semblance of contempt for the Assad regime, and you too could join the ranks of thousands who were disappeared, tortured, or even exterminated. This omnipresent threat of arbitrary punishment marked our collective psyche for over five decades. Even our grief for our dead loved ones was expressed in silence. 

Fast forward to May 2011. I was a junior in high school when I heard the story of Hamza Al-Khateeb, the 13-year-old boy whose lifeless, mutilated body was delivered to his family weeks after his arrest at an anti-regime rally in Daraa. His death, along with the brutal torture of other local teenagers who made anti-regime graffiti, sparked widespread outrage and galvanized the nascent Syrian revolution. For the first time in years, people were rising en masse with a collective yearning for change. But the crackdown was swift, and worse than any of us could’ve ever imagined. And in the 14 years since then, this barbaric, belligerent, tyrannical regime has inflicted upon its own people horrors beyond human comprehension. Thousands disappeared, hundreds of thousands murdered, and millions displaced. This violent, repressive backlash had exactly its intended effect—the Syrian consciousness had all but accepted its fate. Assad, along with his band of corrupt cronies, were here to stay. 

That is exactly what makes this period so remarkable to those of us who lived to witness it. In a matter of days, the regime was no more. And while I, like so many others, have tremendous anxiety about what’s to come – and what has already begun – I cannot deny the absolute joy and catharsis I feel watching my people break out of prison — literally and figuratively. Watching thousands of political detainees, long presumed dead, reunited with their loved ones. Watching those in exile return to their homes for the first time in over a decade. 

Of course, none of us is deluded or naive. The future is far from certain. And various imperial and colonial forces are already working to exploit this moment. Israel began bombing Damascus mere days after the regime’s collapse. But amid all of the chaos and uncertainty, I am choosing to rejoice, even if only for a brief time. For the first time in my life, I have hope.  

May this moment strengthen our resolve and be the impetus for freedom everywhere — from Palestine to the Congo. May it manifest into a Syria that belongs to its people.

Ayla Kadah is a Center for Constitutional Rights Justice Fellow. She grew up in Damascus and relocated to the United States at the height of the Syrian Civil War in 2013.