Baghdad's quiet revolution: Love locks and red bears
Shafaq News- Baghdad
Baghdad hasn't strayed far from its Valentine's script this year. Gift shops overflow with the usual suspects: red teddy bears maintaining their reign as the holiday's undisputed monarch, their plush dominance undiminished by the passage of years. Young men and women crowd the aisles, searching for that perfect gesture– the thing that says what words sometimes can't.
The numbers tell their own story. Economic expert Nabil Al-Marsumi estimated in 2024 that Iraq likely spent around $70 million on Valentine's Day, double the UAE's $35 million. With approximately 36,000 billionaires in the country, the spending ranges from modest teddy bears to what traders described as extravagances: Lexus cars, diamond rings hidden in truckloads of roses, and even a 1,000 square meter villa in Turkiye.
But this year, tucked inside a tourist resort in the capital, something quieter is happening. Ahmed Ali chose to memorialize his feelings differently. He placed an iron padlock on a metal lattice panel, a symbolic declaration of love whose details he preferred to keep private. He didn't reveal his beloved's name, only a single letter: N. A small secret now dangles from that lock, arousing the curiosity of passersby.
The "love lock" tradition has European roots, likely Roman. The ritual is simple: lovers attach a metal lock, often engraved with their names or initials, to a bridge, fence, or gate, then throw the key into water. The symbolism speaks for itself: love made permanent, connection rendered unbreakable. The thrown-away key means this love is "locked" and cannot be undone or abandoned.
Beside Ahmed's lock, others have already gathered, each carrying a different story. Perhaps more are coming, destined to embrace this metal lattice as witnesses to love stories written without sound.
Sarmad Mohammed understands this season intimately. He owns a gift and accessories shop, and he's been preparing for more than a week now, stocking his shelves with what the holiday demands. Red and white teddy bears command the storefront in small and medium sizes, flanked by perfumes and women's watches that consistently sell well.
"The pace of customers has increased noticeably, especially in the last two days," Mohammed told Shafaq News, explaining why he's kept his shop open until midnight to meet the rising demand. What struck him this year, though, was something new: some customers specifically requested small locks shaped like medallions. They want to use them as symbols to "lock their love" and preserve their feelings in a different way.
Alaa Ahmed, browsing the shop, sees it differently. "For me, it's an annual tradition I don't abandon," he told Shafaq News. Every year without fail, he purchases a gift for his wife, whether an elegant watch, a bouquet of flowers, or some distinctive piece. "It's an expression of gratitude and appreciation," Ahmed explained, "Renewed proof of a love that remains my choice, made entirely of my own free will."
In a city where so much has been chosen for people –where war and politics and history have dictated the terms of daily existence– perhaps that's what makes these gestures matter. Not the bears or the locks themselves, but what they represent: the radical act of choosing tenderness, year after year, in a place still learning to breathe easy.
