By its very nature, peacebuilding is a grueling, slow-motion endeavor. It is a process that unfolds under the crushing weight of limited resources, persistent trauma, and the volatile atmosphere of post-conflict recovery. Unlike the swift stroke of a pen on a peace treaty, the work of building a sustainable society is an everyday commitment that often requires decades—or even generations—to bear fruit. Because this labor is so long-term, the international community is increasingly recognizing a fundamental truth: peace cannot be "built" for the next generation if that generation is excluded from the construction site. To create a stability that lasts, young women must be empowered not just to participate, but to lead.
In the complex landscape of modern conflict, three essential ingredients have emerged as the bedrock of lasting peace: participation, dialogue, and safety. Through the stories of three young leaders from Yemen, Georgia, and Colombia, we see how these pillars are being reinforced in the world’s most precarious regions.
The Power of Participation: Bridging the Digital and Decision-Making Divide
For Olla Alsakkaf, a 30-year-old economist and activist from Yemen, peace work was never a choice; it was a survival mechanism. Growing up in a city besieged by civil war, the conflict was not a distant political abstraction but a daily reality that occurred just outside her front door. "The war was in my city," she recalls. "I was so close to the conflict parties, so close to the victims."
Alsakkaf’s journey into activism began with local conflict mediation, but she soon realized that while women and young people are often the most affected by both war and the escalating climate crisis, they are systematically excluded from the rooms where their futures are decided. In Yemen, this exclusion is physical, social, and digital. The lack of reliable infrastructure, such as electricity and internet, acts as a silent gatekeeper, preventing local voices from reaching the international stage.
The fragility of this participation was laid bare in 2020. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Alsakkaf was invited to address the United Nations Security Council virtually—a rare opportunity to bring the plight of Yemeni youth to the world’s most powerful decision-makers. In a cruel irony, just as she began to speak, her internet connection failed. Her voice was silenced by the very infrastructure gaps she sought to highlight.
This incident underscores a broader systemic issue: even when the door to participation is cracked open, the barriers remain immense. In many conservative societies, social taboos prevent women from discussing urgent issues like period poverty, domestic violence, or the gendered impact of climate change. Those who dare to speak out often face a gauntlet of online abuse, harassment, or the threat of state-sponsored arrest.
Alsakkaf argues that this exclusion is a strategic failure. In a country like Yemen, women manage the intricacies of the household and the community; they understand the granular impacts of resource scarcity in ways that high-level negotiators often miss. Furthermore, she notes that young people are leveraging technology and unconventional methods to build trust and achieve results faster than traditional bureaucratic channels. To Alsakkaf, participation is not a favor granted to youth; it is a necessity for a functional society. "Young women have innovative ideas and unconventional means to bring peace to the table," she says. "Peace discussions are dominated by men… but young women are more willing to take risks."
The Art of Dialogue: Finding Connection in the "Frozen" Zones
While participation secures a seat at the table, dialogue determines what happens once everyone is seated. For 22-year-old Elene Gureshidze, a peacebuilder from Georgia, the path to reconciliation began with a piece of street art in Nicosia, Cyprus. The graffiti read: "My ancestors have self-harmed for generations."
The message resonated deeply with Gureshidze, who was in Cyprus participating in the "SheLeads" program, a UN Women initiative designed to bring together young women from conflict-divided communities. Whether in the Caucasus or the Mediterranean, the "frozen conflicts" of the world share a common trait: a generational cycle of pain that makes the simple act of conversation feel like a betrayal of one’s own side.
When Gureshidze first entered the workshop room, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The participants were divided by history, language, and deep-seated prejudices. "We didn’t really have anything in common other than the ability to speak English and the willingness to build peace," she admits.
Recognizing that formal political debate often reinforces divisions, Gureshidze turned to an unconventional tool for peacebuilding: play. An athlete at heart, she organized a padel match, carefully mixing the teams so that participants from opposing sides of the conflict were forced to rely on one another to win. The transformation was nearly instantaneous. The rigid barriers of "us versus them" dissolved into the shared language of cheering and small talk.
This "soft" entry point paved the way for the "hard" conversations that followed—the raw, painful discussions about displacement, loss, and the possibility of a shared future. Gureshidze’s philosophy is that the goal of dialogue is not necessarily to reach a total consensus, but to build enough trust that disagreement no longer leads to violence. She encourages parties to listen to understand rather than to react, and to be willing to concede something real in the pursuit of a peer-to-peer relationship. Today, she is even co-designing a board game aimed at challenging stereotypes, proving that the tools for peace can be as creative as they are courageous.
The Foundation of Safety: Protection for the Most Vulnerable
However, neither participation nor dialogue can survive without the third and most vital ingredient: safety. In the Indigenous territories of Antioquia, Colombia, leadership is often a death sentence. For Nil Bailarín, a 29-year-old trans Indigenous woman, the struggle for peace is inseparable from the struggle for the right to exist.
"We don’t want to be made famous after we are dead," Bailarín says, her voice echoing the urgency of a region still reeling from decades of internal conflict. "We want to be heard before."
Bailarín’s activism was born from the trauma of seeing her community’s identity suppressed. She recalls a childhood where Indigenous trans girls were forced to cut their hair and erase their true selves. This intersectional injustice—where gender identity, ethnicity, and the scars of war collide—fueled her mission to protect "cuerpos y espíritus diversos" (diverse bodies and spirits).
In 2022, Bailarín made history by becoming Colombia’s first trans Indigenous governor. Her leadership is a masterclass in making peace concrete. Through the ProDefensoras program, an initiative supported by Norway that has benefited over 6,000 women human rights defenders in Colombia, she has worked to provide the basic infrastructure of safety. This includes securing internet access for remote communities so students don’t have to walk for hours through dangerous territory to study, and establishing ecotourism associations to provide local economic independence.
For Bailarín, peace is not just the absence of war; it is the presence of dignity. It is the ability to live in one’s territory without fear, to take pride in one’s culture, and to dream of a future that extends beyond mere survival. "The key is showing young people that they have the right and duty to be someone," she explains. Her role as a governor and an advisor is about more than policy; it is about creating a shield of community protection that allows the next generation to lead without becoming martyrs.
A Generational Handover
The work of Olla Alsakkaf, Elene Gureshidze, and Nil Bailarín demonstrates that the future of global stability lies in the hands of those who have the most to lose if peace fails. By prioritizing participation, fostering genuine dialogue, and ensuring the physical and social safety of activists, the international community can move beyond temporary truces toward a lasting, sustainable peace.
As organizations like UN Women continue to expand initiatives like the Young Women Peacebuilders Initiative, the message is clear: leadership does not descend from the top down. It rises from the ground up, fueled by the innovation, empathy, and resilience of young women who refuse to let the conflicts of the past dictate the possibilities of the future. Peacebuilding may be slow, but when it is inclusive, it is also unstoppable.
