Women taking power in ways the Middle East has never before seen. Men, at their side, taking the radical transformation in stride.

And together, by consensus, both fighting tooth and nail against the Islamic State — and winning — liberating towns and villages in northern Syria with the promise of a new kind of freedom, where all are welcome to a fair share of collective self-rule, regardless of gender, religion or ethnicity.

It reads like a revolutionary daydream from John Lennon’s songbook. But it is actually happening throughout the sliver of terrain known as Rojava, the predominantly Kurdish territory abutting Syria’s border with Turkey.

The Islamic State group doesn’t like it. Turkey doesn’t like it. Bashar Assad doesn’t like it. Yet the quiet revolution in Rojava isn’t just taking root; it is growing, thanks in part to the White House, which has deputized the mostly Kurdish revolutionary fighters as America’s most effective boots on the ground on the Syrian side of the campaign against the Islamic State.

The fruits of the U.S. alliance with Syria’s Kurdish paramilitary fighters — the People’s Protection Units, or YPG, and their female counterparts, YPJ — became especially clear over Christmas, with the Kurds leading a four-day sweep south from Kobani, snipping some 640 square kilometres from the caliphate’s map and seizing back from the Islamic State a key piece of infrastructure, the Tishrin Dam.

Throughout the operation and ever since, independent Toronto filmmaker Nadim Fetaih has been on the ground with a crew of two other Canadians, capturing the changes unfolding as the fragile Rojava revolution takes hold. Fetaih doesn’t expect to release his documentary until 2017 — today he is sharing exclusive images and insights from the project with the Star.

“The most striking thing for me is the amazing revolutionary structure of what is taking place — at its heart, we’re seeing women playing important roles unprecedented in the Middle East for the better part of 1,000 years,” Fetaih told The Star.

“We’ve been able to get access inside the military complex in Kobani and spend time with the wounded fighters — a fairly even 50-50 split of men and women and they’re all badasses. But the YPJ women, because they are going to the front and laying their lives on the line, are able to come back to town and essentially create their own world. They are respected on the street by every single person.

“I’m personally scared of them — and so is Daesh. It is clear to us that this is not just a battle against Daesh but against patriarchy, against the treatment of women,” he said, using a slang term for the Islamic State.

Fetaih, 27, came to Canada at age four with his parents, both Egyptian political activists. He grew up in a home where political awareness — and the regime of former Egyptian dictator Hosni Mubarak — was routine conversation around the dinner table.

In 2014, he released his first documentary, A Tale of Two Revolutions, linking two generations of resistance to Mubarak, his and his father’s. That’s essential context for his insights into what is — and is not — happening in Rojava.

Among the bigger questions: Is the transformation in Rojava a singularly Kurdish national effort? Or does it have potential to become a model for the broader Arab world beyond? And even if it does, will it be allowed to succeed — or will Turkey, a NATO ally already clearly infuriated at the Rojava revolution’s implications for its 15 million Kurdish citizens, act to ensure failure?

“I’m realistic,” Fetaih said. “What we’re seeing here has huge potential. It feels like the restoration of a shining hope — an actual viable way forward for the people who rose up for 18 days in Tahrir Square in Cairo five years ago. But there are serious politics stacked against this being allowed to grow and become the alternative the Middle East has been looking for.”

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

Those aren’t the only complications. Though the fighters in Rojava have stressed pluralistic values, Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, alternately, have raised concerns about reports of sporadic sectarian violence within the territory. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, given the sectarian centrifuge spinning on all sides of the region.

“We’re mindful that whatever else is happening here, it’s still a war zone. Every gain Rojava makes comes with the threat of payback and reprisal by Daesh,” said Fetaih. “Things are getting better, but it is a long way from what anyone would regard as normal life.”

Fetaih’s own documentary, This Is Kobane, he readily admits, will involve “a bias for and by the people — I’m hoping with my films I can actually empower people,” he said.

“We’ve financed this on our own thus far. And now we are launching a humble crowd-funding effort to help us on the editing while we look for additional support.

“I feel a connection to what’s happening in Rojava, obviously, but I also believe criticism is the best solidarity. I know there are pitfalls in the system they are building as of now. We will show them. But as a director, I won’t separate my own heart and hopes.”

Read more about: