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Hola, I’m Nuria Tesón, the Fuller Project’s new conflict editor. It’s a dream job that feels tailor-made for someone who has landed at Fuller after 16 years of reporting from places where wars, crises, and disasters unfold.
When I began my work, I quickly learned that in any conflict, the most vulnerable are always the most affected. Often, that is women and girls. Yet, in media coverage of conflict, women’s voices are often systematically sidelined. “Who cares about women managing their periods in conflicts?” I remember one editor asking me. The millions of people who experience “menstrual abnormalities” during “acute conflict” from Gaza to Ukraine and Lebanon – that’s who cares. And so should anyone interested in telling the human stories of conflict.
This year has been marked not just by the continued sidelining of women and gender-diverse people’s experiences in conflicts but also by consistent, disproportionate and unprecedented attacks on women journalists, documented by NGOs and other international organizations. With local journalists a target and foreign journalists banned in places like Gaza, and parts of Sudan, I have feared this year that women’s voices might fade completely from the agenda. If there is something that 2025 has made painfully clear, it’s that one of the most powerful weapons in modern conflict is silence.
Entire wars have unfolded behind sealed borders, broken phone lines, social media platform filtering, and disinformation, with governments determined to control the world’s gaze. Our gaze. Despite growing impunity and efforts to discredit institutions like the International Criminal Court and sanction its officials, perpetrators still want no witnesses for their crimes.
Earlier this year, I interviewed a woman from Sudan, Istiak. She still calls me once in a while. Her name isn’t real, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that while she waited to register in the UN’s refugee agency system, after arriving in Egypt from Darfur, she wanted to tell her story. One of loss, rape, and survival. I listened in silence while she described the facts, checking every so often that others couldn't hear her: “They killed my husband, and did everything to me. Now I have been kicked out of the flat I was renting because I am pregnant. Why is nobody talking about what they are doing to us?”
I wished I had a satisfactory answer for her.
Still, I have hope that we can change things. Afterall, as South Korean philosopher Byung Chul Han writes: “Hope is the only thing that makes us move forward”. I know that journalists like myself, who report from conflict zones, provide context and bear witness to devastation that spurs action. A small but significant ray of hope from this year was the news that more women are becoming journalists in Afghanistan: “We document the current history of the Afghan women. One day, these stories will make sense for the world outside this prison called Afghanistan,” said a journalist from the region.
This echoes what philosopher Hannah Arendt describes in her book Men in Dark Times: “We humanize what is going on in the world and in ourselves only by speaking of it, and in the course of speaking of it, we learn to be human.”
May we be more human in 2026.
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