In a small corner of a modest room in the city of Qamishli, Rama sits before her mobile phone, its faint glow illuminating the space amid constant power outages. Around her are piles of clothes freshly delivered from online shopping sites, and handwritten notes tracking orders and prices. To her, the mobile phone is more than a means of communication, it is a moving shop, an office, and a business management hub all at once.
Rama, a young Syrian woman in her twenties, never imagined she would become a “digital marketer.” Yet she found herself compelled to do so after losing traditional job opportunities due to the difficult economic and security conditions in northeastern Syria.
She tells +963, while staring at the notifications on WhatsApp Business: “Sometimes I pay for advertising campaigns on Facebook or Instagram, and thousands of visitors come to my page, but no one buys. The customer is ready to purchase, but the website freezes or the payment does not work, and the chance is gone.”
This is how Rama began her journey into what is now known as the “black apps economy,” where instant messaging applications turn into virtual markets that allow women to overcome traditional restrictions on working outside the home. The smartphone has become a shop, and messaging groups are miniature marketplaces providing daily income without licenses or large capital, yet they carry multiple risks.
A Digital Economy from Behind the Screen
In recent years, Syria has witnessed the rise of an invisible digital working class, mostly women, who operate through apps such as WhatsApp Business and Telegram, benefiting from the accessibility of smartphones and the internet. These platforms, once merely tools for social communication, have gradually turned into thriving digital markets where clothes and cosmetics are sold, and private lessons and home services are offered.
These apps provide an economic refuge for women who have found themselves excluded from the formal labor market, whether due to social restrictions, displacement, or long-term unemployment. The phone has become a window to the world, allowing them to work from home, free from the pressures of place and time, and without the need for substantial capital.
However, this digital economic growth comes with risks. The absence of official registration means the absence of legal protection in cases of fraud or financial disputes, as well as exposure to extortion or hacking due to weak digital awareness and cybersecurity measures. Some activities may also be later classified as unlicensed, placing women at risk of legal accountability if online monitoring expands.
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From Hope to Setbacks
Rama describes her experience as a mix of ambition and frustration: “I started my digital marketing journey after noticing the growing culture of online shopping among women around me. I created a WhatsApp Business account and began promoting fashion products through closed groups, targeting women and girls in northeastern Syria. But the path was not lined with roses.”
Although the work does not require significant capital, constant internet disruptions are a daily obstacle: “When the internet cuts off, everything stops, no communication, no orders, no transfers. It is as if you closed the shop suddenly.”
Despite these challenges, Rama sees her work as an opportunity to build an independent project from her home and achieve partial financial freedom. She tells +963: “Even if the work is hard and full of obstacles, at least I can be independent and build something of my own.”
Digital Work Is Not Always Safe
Other young Syrian women face greater risks, such as financial fraud. Sarah, a Syrian woman working in digital marketing for women’s products, recounts her experience: “I started working from home two years ago after losing my job at a private company due to the economic situation. I promoted cosmetics and clothing in closed groups, sometimes buying wholesale and selling retail. At first, business was good, and I built a network of customers from different provinces.”
But she soon faced a difficult incident: “A customer ordered a large quantity of products and sent me a bank transfer receipt via WhatsApp. It looked real, with a stamp and everything. I shipped the order, and days later, I discovered that the transfer never happened. The receipt was forged, and the number disappeared. I tried to reach the authorities, but there was no official body to file a complaint with because my work is not registered. I work from home, have no commercial license, and no platform protects me. I felt like a victim twice, once from the customer, and once from the absence of the law.”
Internet interruptions also affect business operations, especially during promotions: “Sometimes I launch discounts, and the connection cuts off. The chance is gone. Customers do not wait; they go to someone else,” Sarah says.
Despite all this, she continues working but calls for official or secure Syrian platforms that allow women to work from home without fear of fraud or losing their rights.
Digital Education Between Dream and Disappointment
Work through apps is not limited to marketing, it also includes digital education. Rahaf, a young teacher from Latakia, began offering private English lessons online after failing to find a job in public schools. She tells +963: “I started from scratch, using only my phone, and I taught my students via Telegram. I sent them voice recordings, worksheets, and followed up daily. I felt I was providing something useful and earning a modest income to help with living expenses.”
But the work was not without challenges and risks: “The most painful issue is internet outages. Sometimes I am in the middle of an important explanation, and the connection cuts off. The student loses patience, and I lose trust.”
She also faced an attempted scam by a parent: “He sent me a fake payment receipt, took several lessons, and disappeared. There was no authority to complain to and no contract to protect my rights.”
Working from home also made her constantly available, creating psychological pressure: “There is no personal time. Sometimes students message me after midnight, and I feel like I live inside the screen.”
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Online Fraud and the Targeting of Working Women
Dr. Riad al-Subh, a human rights consultant, confirms that online fraud has become widespread: “The digital space allows the sender or producer to remain anonymous, opening the door to forgery and identity theft, especially with the development of artificial intelligence tools that can create promotional content portraying fake companies as legitimate.”
He points out that working women are more vulnerable, especially in Arab countries, where it is easy to forge advertisements or use logos of well-known sites to deceive victims with false job opportunities.
He adds: “The real danger lies in the nature of exploitation that women may face, whether psychological, physical, or financial.”
He also explains that what is known as the “informal app economy” in Syria falls under unregulated sectors, keeping workers outside official legal frameworks and licenses. However, victims can still turn to specialized legal entities or the cybercrime unit due to the technical nature of such cases.
Between Necessity and Risk
Despite the controversy over the legitimacy of this gray economy, it has become an undeniable reality. This shift reflects women’s ability to harness technology to face daily challenges, redefining concepts of work, independence, and income in a society facing ongoing crises.
From behind small screens, women are redrawing the map of Syrian labor with patience and skill, in an economy born from necessity, without contracts, without licenses, yet full of life. And at the end of the day, when Rama turns off her phone, she tells herself: “Even if the screen goes dark, I still believe I work, and I still dream.”
