“We want to be heard, to show the world that Afghan girls can build and endure”

Motahara

Baker, Logar

A woman in a green veil sits, a toddler on her lap and an older daughter in the background.

“I’m a mother of two children, aged 3 and 5, and a second-year nursing student. In the previous regime, I was fortunate that I could focus solely on raising my children while my husband worked as a government employee. Over time, however, my husband was laid off from his job and could no longer work. His unemployment and hardship led to severe mental health issues.

I decided to overcome my fears and took on the responsibility of providing for my family and giving my children a better life. I tirelessly strived for a better future, attending morning classes while working as a security camera officer at a private company to provide a good life for my children. Every time I left home, the haunting voice of my child saying ‘don’t go, mommy,’ echoed in my ears. However, I embraced the warmth of a mother being able to provide a better life for my children.

After 15 August, not only my life but the lives of all Afghan women changed. Women became housebound, and girls lost their fundamental rights, such as the right to work and study. In one unfortunate day, the fate of all Afghan girls took a drastic and terrible turn.

Now, I don’t even have the ability to buy a notebook for my child. My son writes in a notebook with a pencil, erases it and writes again.

I want my husband to receive treatment, but I don’t have the money. I want my son to get an education, but I don’t have the funds. I want to seek justice, but I don’t have the right to speak.

On the one hand, I’m facing the bitterness of life, illness and my husband’s tough attitude, and on the other hand, I’m experiencing the strong pressure of the Taliban, such as the harassment and persecution of women who do not wear the hijab and who are deprived of the right to expression and education, which have both led to me to tolerate numerous hardships.

My life has become a dead end. Now, everywhere I look I see darkness, and I ask myself, will these dark days ever end? Will the sunshine of happiness rise again in our lives? We are just breathing, moving like the living dead.

After a few months of wallowing in such despair, I realized that I have to be strong for my children, so I started baking some cakes and cookies at home that my husband could sell at the market. I also have two other women who help me. I hope to one day be able to grow my business so that I can provide more jobs for other women.

We want to live. We want to express our opinions. We want to be heard, to show the world that Afghan girls can build and endure. I know I can succeed, and until my last breath, I will fight to reclaim my rights, provide a better life for my children, and tell all Afghan girls not to let the sacrifices we have made over the years go in vain.

We must rise, united as one voice, and demonstrate that we can achieve our fundamental rights to work, an education and freedom.”

“Sometimes, when I close my eyes at night, I have one wish: that I never wake up again”

A veiled woman holding papers walks down a stone path.